Victory. Something I’m doing is getting through to him. It could be my stories or my submission. I laugh at the thought. I don’t have a submissive bone in my body; it’s a complete sham. Not the stories, though. Those are true and it’s comforting to finally say them out loud.
Austin isn’t as immune to me as he pretends. Last night, I saw the outline of his stiff dick beneath his pants. I guess he isn’t gay, because on some level he’s attracted to me. He thinks he’s the spider to my fly but he’s wrong. I’m really the spider biding my time and waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce and devour my prey. He’ll slip up and I’ll have my chance.
I eat the eggs and toast, relishing every bite. The flashlight gives me hope and holds the depression at bay. My plate is bare in a matter of minutes. It’s at least another hour before he returns and silently takes the plate away. He doesn’t look at me either. I wonder if that makes it easier for him to live with his conscience. I don’t mind, though, and I’m relieved he’s not taking me to the bed for another session. I can’t seem to spill my darkest secrets without the hum of his tattoo machine.
A tear slips down my face when the flashlight’s battery begins to fail. I quickly wipe it away. No tears. No feeling sorry for myself even though I have reason. Sleep hovers in my peripheral. My sanity waits there, so I embrace it.
∞∞∞
The overhead light brings me back to consciousness. Austin sits on the floor studying me again. It’s creepy in a way that doesn’t bother me for some reason. If he were going to seriously hurt me, I think it would have happened by now. I place my foot out, and he unlocks my ankle and then helps me stand. I noticed yesterday that he’s touching me more and it still doesn’t scare me. Any other man would have raped me by now. Austin is unlike anyone I’ve known. He’s hard like my brother but I don’t sense Diego’s evil. Austin has a purpose for kidnapping me and mutilating my skin. My brother’s only reasoning is greed and insanity.
Austin holds complete control over himself and that intrigues me. My brother’s men could never be trusted with a woman. Hell, my brother would be the first to rape her. I’ve heard the screams. I remember my mother crying and holding me because something bad was going on downstairs. The woman’s screams lasted for hours that time.
I can’t allow Austin’s captivating qualities to lull me into thinking he won’t kill me if necessary. I haven’t mistaken his small kindnesses like the flashlight for weakness. He lives and operates in the same world my brother does.
I lie on the bed while my brain churns looking for the next memory to share. I’ve become so damn good at blocking them from my brain that it’s not easy to bring them forward in my mind. With a heavy heart, I decide on the one I need to share today.
“I miss my mother’s smile most of all.” Scratching the plastic beneath me with a ragged fingernail helps me gather my courage. “After she died I would smile in the mirror because I have her mouth and I would see small glimpses of her if I turned just so.” I’ve been incredibly lonely since she died, but I won’t tell Austin that. “Before she left me, we had a very special day. I don’t know how she did it, but she got us away from my father and took me to the zoo. It was magical. I’d never been before and we stayed a long time at each exhibit reading all the information on the signs. The elephants fascinated me and we came back to their enclosure repeatedly. There was this baby elephant with sad eyes. I wondered if his father was horrible like mine. The enclosure reminded me of the life my mom and I lived.”
The baby elephant still haunts me when I think of my mother. With another short inhale and exhale, I continue my story, “It wasn’t until we left the zoo that I noticed my mother’s fear. Her hands shook when she started the car and her eyes scanned the parking lot repeatedly. That’s when it occurred to me we didn’t have my father’s permission. She broke the rules knowing full well what waited at home when we returned.”
This next part is harder because I’ll never regret that day no matter the consequences. “I watched as my father beat her senseless. He told me it was my fault while my brother held me back from helping her. She held my gaze and cried softly until he slammed his foot in her head and she passed out. I received one slap across the face for my part in the adventure. My true punishment was watching what he did to my mother and knowing no one would ever stop him. When my mother was able to speak, she told me it was worth it.” I place my palm beneath my chin and stare at the wall in front of me but Austin quickly pulls my arm down by my side with a soft growl. I ignore him and continue, “My mother never disobeyed him again. We found our adventure in books. She read to me even when I was old enough to read for myself. She shared so many books with me. Those were the peaceful times. When she became ill, she never fought death even knowing she was leaving me behind. By then, the fight was beat out of her.”
I don’t cry. I can’t. Tears never help anything. Reliving the day at the zoo was good for me. My mom was happy that day. She was a shy woman with no backbone. My father kept her easily in line by threatening me. I often wondered why she didn’t kill him. I wondered the same about myself as I grew older.
Austin begins wiping down my skin and tapes on more plastic wrap when he’s finished. I take comfort in his touch. For once I appreciate his silence. He eventually leads me back to the wall. He gives me to the darkness without a backwards glance. Remembering is exhausting and I sleep like the dead.
The next morning he turns on the overhead light when he brings food. After breakfast I feel refreshed for the first time in days. My heart thumps in anticipation at what the overhead light means. I crave the release the needle brings.
Austin doesn’t speak. We have a routine now and I offer no trouble when he leads me to the bed. Even his eyes appear somber today. He prepares his equipment and I mentally prepare myself for what I need to tell him.
The steady hum of the tattoo machine helps me find the courage. “When I turned eighteen I thought I would be able to leave and escape the nightmare inside the house.” The plastic beneath my fingers crinkles under my grip. Just say the words, I tell myself silently. Once the words are out it won’t be so bad. “I was wrong. It didn’t matter where I went or what I did, my brother had men watching me. They didn’t even try to hide that they were there. It was outright intimidation and it worked. I obeyed most of the rules and was able to attend junior college. Oww, that hurt,” I say as he goes over a particularly sore area of skin.
He pulls the machine back for a moment before starting it up again. I continue with the story, “One of the guards started talking to me. Just silly things, really. He was maybe in his mid-twenties, too old for me, but the attention made me feel special. He wanted to know what I was up to, where I was heading next, that kind of thing. At first I didn’t answer. It took weeks of ignoring him before I even said hi. We slowly became friends. It was strange because I’d never had a friend. My father’s home wasn’t the place you invited kids into. Not that I knew any kids, because I was homeschooled by my mother then, and too afraid to befriend anyone on the rare occasion I came into contact with someone my age. After my mother died, my father hired a tutor—not because he cared if I were educated but because the government frowns on not providing a child an education and the last thing my father wanted was the law looking at him closer than they already did. I begged and begged about high school and he finally gave in. Thank God I graduated from high school a year early, because my brother thought school a complete waste of time.” I still don’t know how I talked Diego into college. My promise to look over his books and double check his accountant’s work finally got through to his greed.
Here goes the hard part. “The guard’s name was Bobby. We talked whenever we had a chance.” A small laugh escapes my throat. “He must have thought me so naïve. He knew all about the world and I only knew the world inside the walls of the house.”
My lungs don’t have enough oxygen for this next part. I clench the plastic tighter and try to breathe normally. “My brot
her had two guards drive me to his clubhouse. I’d never been there before. With all the money my brother inherited, the clubhouse is a piece of shit, rundown shack that I didn’t expect. I thought he would auction me off to the highest bidder. Diego threatened me enough times with it. I also knew he would kill me when he discovered I wasn’t a virgin. I would die but my revenge would be so sweet.” I take a long breath. “Bobby waited. I walked inside and saw him tied naked to a chair in the center of the room. My brother’s men stood around watching while my brother smiled. I knew Bobby would die. I wanted so bad to take his place.” I’m almost hyperventilating at the memory, and then the hum of the tattoo machine stops.
It takes a few minutes. I speak again and then the machine starts up. “My brother severed Bobby’s penis and forced it down his throat until he strangled. I watched the entire time. My brother said if I turned away or closed my eyes, he would remove my eyelids. I believed him. I watched Bobby suffer until the final gurgled scream cut off and he died.
“That was the last guard who spoke to me. My brother made his point. I was too good, or so my brother thought, for a measly guard. You marring my back might be more payback than my lack of virginity. I just want to see the look in Diego’s eyes before I die.”
Austin continues working. I hope the horror he’s driving into my skin is ugly. It will match my soul. I don’t know why dolling out my secrets is so exhausting. My body feels like a noodle. The tattoo brings out a side of me I hadn’t discovered before. Maybe it’s the pain or irritation of the needle. It frees me to give voice to the things I’ve buried.
I remain pliant when Austin puts plastic wrap on my back again. His warm hands guide me back to the wall where the damn chain is attached. He empties the bucket, returns and walks away. I’m happy to close my eyes and allow my dreams free reign. Nightmares are preferable to what the light holds.
Chapter Nine
Austin
After three weeks, the tattoo is almost complete. Melina’s stories always begin when I push the pedal and fire up the Dragonfly. By now she knows I won’t offer comfort. That doesn’t stop the words from pouring into the room. It’s hard not to believe her. The horrifyingly real details paint a life of fear and survival much like mine, only hers carries on today. My nightmare ended when Victor picked me up from the juvenile facility.
Diego Fernandez will die by my hand for what he did to Cindy and now, for what has been done to Melina.
Every two days I bring her upstairs, allow her time to wash in the bathroom sink and eat a meal at the table. The hard part is taking her back into the basement. I enjoy seeing her walking in my home. When she’s up here, I think of the house as mine and not Victor’s. Maybe I like having her up here too much.
All I have left to ink is the top and bottom parts of the design. One skeletal hand will swirl over her shoulder and settle on her breast. The other will wrap around the top of her ass, resting on one bronzed cheek. I’m excited to begin on the end but that also means our time is almost up.
Melina says nothing when I push the blanket farther down and prep the area of her hip and ass. I swear her skin is softer here. Her ass, for such a skinny woman, is something to behold. The curve of her butt rounds gently and draws the attention of my cock. Oh yes, I want what I refuse to take.
The first skeletal outline with a small bit of shading will take an entire session. Melina stays quiet, which seems strange now.
Halfway through she finally asks, “It’s almost done, isn’t it?”
She knows her time here is short. If everything she’s told me is true, her brother will take my revenge out on her. I seriously doubt he’ll kill her, but the thought unsettles me. I want him to see my claim and feel the pain of having his sister defiled. He’ll never guess I didn’t touch her sexually. All he’ll see is my brand. Diego Fernandez will suffer for his sins, and his sister will be a daily reminder that I’m coming for him.
I have the strangest urge to protect her and I’m fighting it. It’s taken this past week to come to terms with what some would call feeling. Cindy was the only person who brought any sense of compassion out of me. Her death affected me deeply, and I can admit that now. Listening to Melina makes me see some things differently. It won’t change that I’m twisted inside and always have been. Melina is better off as far away from me as possible. I won’t keep her because of what they did to Cindy, but the impulse to help her is difficult to resist.
Melina doesn’t tell me a story today. She remains quiet and it’s actually difficult to concentrate on ink without her voice filling the room.
After I finish our session, I spend the remainder of the morning with two of my men at the homestead. We inventory the weapons to ready them for delivery. I’ve never minded getting my hands dirty. I’m not Victor, who left the sweaty work to his men. I need the sweat to clear my head and keep me focused on the end game with Fernandez.
Andreas hands me a heavy box and I stack it on the others we’ve inventoried. “There’s been rumblings, boss.”
I turn to Andreas. “Spill.”
He looks away before once more meeting my eyes. “Fernandez and his gang are coming closer. They must know you have his sister. Is she still alive?” Andreas should know better than to question me. He raises his hand when my eyes go hard and he takes a step back. “If you don’t want to know these things, boss, don’t tell me to spill. I’ll fight on your side until there’s no fight left, but I think me and the men deserve the truth before the war starts.”
“There’ll be no war,” I say slowly. Andreas stares at me while I gather myself and try to calm the fuck down. He’s right. The men followed Victor because when it worked in his favor, Victor told them the truth. I know he lied often, but there was always a reason. His men followed him because even as cold-hearted as he was, they respected his leadership. The men look at me differently. Fear is not the same as respect.
“Okay, boss.” He lets it drop and we get back to work. I don’t tell him I plan to take out every member of the gang until I get to Fernandez. Then I’ll relish taking the dark light from his eyes. Maybe when it’s over, I’ll go back for Melina.
And where the hell did that thought come from?
She says Fernandez will kill her, but I still don’t believe it. If he does, it will be very, very bad for Fernandez.
∞∞∞
The anticipation I feel when I walk into the house is energizing. I’ll be working on shading the lower part of Melina’s piece and beginning the front piece this evening. Tomorrow I’ll go over the shading and highlighting with white where needed. The tapestry is everything I hoped. By far my best work.
The remainder of the design should be complete in two days and then she’ll need a few days to heal. Then, my true vengeance will begin and Fernandez’s world will turn upside-down again. I want him to know I’m coming.
Melina is waiting for me curled in the fetal position. This image will remain in my dreams for a very long time. Even with the blanket pulled up around her chin, she’s gorgeous. I haven’t really given thought to how she’s handled being alone in the dark for so long. Her skin is paler than it was when I brought her here. She’s possibly thinner too.
I wait patiently for her eyes to open; I might not smile on the outside but inside the day turns sunny when she blinks awake. Yeah, she’s changed me. I give her a minute to come fully awake before unchaining her. I’ve alternated her ankles because the chain is rubbing on her skin, causing abrasions. She’s cooperated, so she gets a side of me few people see.
“Good morning, Austin,” she greets me. She likes using my name and I like the sound of it on her lips.
I help steady her when she stands and lead her to the bed. When she tries to roll over, I stop her with a gentle hand. “Lie facing up.” Her hands clench the blanket and I let her keep it pulled tight while I set up my kit. “Pull the blanket down slightly and keep it out of my way,” I instruct.
I rest my hand on her shoulder. The skin is softer at her t
hroat and it fascinates me. I turn my hand and partially wrap my fingers around her slender neck. She stops breathing when I add a bit of pressure.
“It’s okay, please kill me,” she moans.
I ease the pressure while looking into her stark, brown eyes. They’re flaked with gold and hold an entire world I know nothing about. I only know the bad parts and I know she’s unafraid. She may be the only person who doesn’t fear me. It’s one of the reasons I believe the stories she’s told me. Her lack of fear could only come from a place that’s lived with ongoing terror. I had the same demeanor when Victor brought me here. Nothing done to me could be worse than what I had already survived. She’s like me—a survivor. Her brother won’t be the end of her. His death will bring her freedom. No, I won’t kill her even if the thought of squeezing her throat until she’s unconscious has my cock going rock hard. The biggest problem is I don’t trust myself to stop before it’s too late and that would ruin my plans. Yeah, the old Austin is still here and scarier than ever.
I work on her shoulder connecting the tapestry to a skeletal arm matching the one on her ass. She inhales slowly and grimaces when I hit a sensitive spot on her collarbone. She’s different today, much like yesterday. I’ll miss her story time, but we both need space from our growing attachment.
We’re about fifteen minutes into the session when she decides to speak. “My body changed as I grew older. I hated it because I knew what was waiting for me. My brother’s men might not talk but they looked. All the men started looking. My prison became tighter. My brother hired a prostitute and had sex with her in front of me. ‘This is what you have coming, sister dear,’ he said while he pounded into her from behind. He had her bent over a table and I could see her expression. She was pissed off. Her anger turned to pain when Diego pulled her head back by the hair until he almost snapped her neck. Either way I already knew she would die. That was always part of my brother’s fun. He shot her in the head right on our table and laughed when her brains splattered everywhere. I learned how to fuck by watching my brother. He always wanted me to know what I was good for.” She sighs before whispering, “I fear that more than death.”
Combust (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 6) Page 6