Was it shock or weakness that caused me to retreat deep inside? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know because regardless of how I came to live behind my heavily fortified wall, I was never leaving.
I knew what awaited me if I ever did and I wouldn’t survive it.
Q stayed beside me, never ending his vigil. Whenever I woke, he was there to fetch me a glass of water, or massage my temples if I had a headache from the medicine.
He tended to me with all the gentleness in the world.
I smiled and thanked him. I let him know I appreciated his tenderness, but I wished he would leave. Q wasn’t a healer or nursemaid. To the old me he was a beast, a strong-willed man who would never let me ruin him this way.
Every time I saw him, he changed. His pale eyes lost the ferocious glow—they muted, faded, turned inward and unreadable. His body language morphed from itching to touch me, to withdrawn and self-conscious.
If I had locked myself in a tower, he had chained his monster up and forgot who he was. We both existed in another dimension—one that would never have a happy ending and one I wanted to leave as soon as possible.
I knew Q was pulling away from me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to care. But I wanted to stay in my unfeeling tower more. And so I let him care for me, to nurse my body from broken to whole, all the while saying a silent goodbye.
I let him drift away from me.
Hours turned into days and my lungs gradually drained from sickness. Q hardly ever left my side, but we never talked. He sensed I’d left him. When he looked at me, he stopped searching my eyes, stopped bossing me around to snap out of it.
He didn’t talk about his business, or what he went through to find me. We existed as strangers—our roles reversed from lovers to patient and nursemaid.
Thankfully, the bugs had transformed from gnarly insects into annoying moths and butterflies. The craving was still there, aching in my teeth, but I could ignore.
Even my dreams were vacant of emotion and thought. In fact, sleep was one thing that hadn’t returned. I managed to nap, to catch rest here and there, but at night when Q lay twitching with nightmares beside me, I stared at the ceiling.
You know this isn’t normal. You should grieve. Go through the stages of dealing with the guilt and find absolution.
I ignored myself. I was stronger this way. I stayed alive this way.
Q shifted beside me, mumbling in his sleep. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you, you bastard.” His fist gripped the bedding and he snarled, “I fucking love—” His leg struck out hitting my foot. It didn’t hurt, but the moment he made contact, I fell straight back into hell. My tower cracked, letting all the guilt and fear and never ending hatred for myself consume me.
“You think you’re free from us. You’re not. We’re coming.”
“He doesn’t love you. Nobody could.”
“Die, bitch. We’ll cut you up nice and fine.”
My head pounded, and my belly twisted with nausea; I dry heaved. The tower left me unprotected and in a bad, bad place to be.
“No. I want to go back. Don’t make me remember,” I moaned as another wrack of sickness crippled me.
“Tess?” Q murmured, half-asleep. “Shit.” He shot to his knees, helping me sit up. He grabbed a bowl from the bedside table and gathered my hair back as I retched and retched. I wished there was something inside to purge. At least then I might’ve stopped. Each wave squeezed my painful ribs until my vision greyed on the edges.
“You killed me. How could you! Don’t you know my family will never find my body?” Blonde Hummingbird wept.
In my mind, I hammered on the tower, my fists growing bloody with the need to go back in.
The guilt grew deeper and deeper, cracking my mind, making my heart race toward a dying beat.
“It’s okay, Tess. Don’t fight it. It’s okay,” Q soothed, his nostrils flared, scenting my panic.
After days of no emotion, I was sure he relished some sort of reaction from me. His eyes were alive for the first time, his body tense and hopeful.
Then the door in my tower opened wide, tumbling back into safety—granting me freedom from guilt. The retching stopped and I pushed the bowl away, dislodging Q’s grip on my hair. “Thank you.”
Q stared, shaking his head slowly. “How do you do that? You were feeling something. I could smell it. And now you’re like a shell. You smile, you talk, you heal at a miraculous pace, and yet you’re not really here.” He tossed the bowl away, anger tingeing his moves. “Speak to me, Tess. Tell me what happened.”
I looked away. “No. Don’t ask me about it.”
The darkness in the room seemed to grow as Q seethed with temper. Gone was the nursemaid; I saw glimpses of the monster who’d been covered in blood in Rio.
He gave me a heart. He placed the heart of White Man at my feet. The sudden memory made me ill and I fortified my tower even more. I’d stepped outside my safety twice now and all it brought was pain. I would never again willingly leave my safe place.
Not for Q.
Not for me.
Not for anything.
“You will talk to me, esclave.”
My eyes rose to his. “I’m not your esclave anymore. I’m sorry, Q, but what we had is gone.”
“Only because you refuse to fight. I’ve seen a lot of women come back from the shock you’re living with. It will take time, but I’ll be here for you. I’m not letting you go again.”
I sighed, wishing I didn’t have to do this. I didn’t want to break his heart, but he had to understand. My life as I knew it was over. It didn’t matter if a week past, a year, or a century. I was never stepping out of my tower again. I would explode with grief and I wasn’t strong enough to deal with such pain.
“I’m weak, Q. And I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not in shock. This is who I am now.”
“Bullshit. You’re a fighter. So fucking fight, Tess. I’m getting tired of you shutting me out. Do you even know how long it’s been? Nine days! Nine fucking days where I’ve watched your body heal and your mind drift further and further away.”
He grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. “I’m not going to let you do that. Not after everything I’ve been through.”
“I can’t thank you enough for saving me, but you have to understand—”
“I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing. All you need to know is, I’ll make you come back to me. I didn’t fucking kill the monster inside me so I could heal you and not have you whole.” He dragged hands through his hair. “I didn’t sacrifice everything just so you could live a half life!”
There was nothing for me to say. So I didn’t. I had no urge to fill the tense painful silence. I had no yearning to kiss Q and take away his hurt.
“I need to be alone,” I whispered.
Q snorted. “Alone. You need to be fucking alone. What about what I need? What about talking to me? Helping me understand what you went through so I can help you through it. Talk to me!”
I sucked in a deep breath and delivered my parting sever. “I’ll never talk about it. Not to you, or a shrink, or Suzette, or anyone. It never happened. It doesn’t exist. And if you keep forcing me, you’ll only kill me.”
Q’s chest strained, the fluttering inked sparrows looked as stricken as the man.
I swallowed hard. “Do you want to kill me? Because if you do, keep pushing me. Keep forcing me to live with the guilt. I won’t ever tell you because if I did, you’d kill me anyway. So, leave me alone. Go away. Let me to drift away in peace.”
Q’s shoulders rolled and his hand came up. Will he strike me? I sat taller just in case, ready to accept his blow.
But all the fight drained out of him and he climbed off the bed.
Without a word, he traversed the large bedroom and left. I didn’t move as the door clicked behind him. I didn’t feel relief or regret or any other emotion but blankness.
My mind, for the first time in forever, was clear. I had no residue of drugs, or agony of grief. M
y body was healing and I no longer wanted anything foreign in my blood stream.
Grabbing the IV in the back of my hand, I pulled it free and tossed it off the bed. It dangled and a single drip landed on the carpet.
Hours passed as I stared into the darkness.
Unfeeling.
Uncaring.
All alone.
* * *
“Master, it’s been two weeks. You need to stop beating yourself up. It isn’t your fault.”
Something slammed against the wall and shattered into tinkling pieces.
Q raged, “All of this is my fault. Tess was the perfect person to go after in order to punish me. And it fucking worked because I want to kill myself for what’s happened to her. Look at her, Suzette. She might as well be dead for all the life left inside her.”
Suzette murmured, “She’ll come right. You’ll make her come back, you’ll see.”
“Don’t fucking patronize me. I’ve tried. I’ve been gentle and patient. I’ve slept beside her. I’ve offered to listen and help. But none of it does any good because she’s fucking blocked me out and I can’t find a way in.”
Something banged again and I kept my eyes tightly closed.
“I’m done. The moment we can send the girls home they’re gone. I don’t want to be reminded about any of this. I just want everything to go away.”
I dared crack open my eyes. Q paced, running anxious hands through his longer hair. It wasn’t the sleek pelt he normally favoured—now it was long and stuck up in all directions.
Suzette stood by the door with a tray in her hands. “Will you at least let me feed her?”
“She’s not awake. Believe me, I’ve watched her all night. Waiting for her to open those blank eyes so I can force her to talk to me.”
He told the truth. All night he’d stared, and all night I pretended to be asleep. Even though I told him every night that I needed to be alone, he never listened.
If he disobeyed me to get a reaction, then it wasn’t working. I wouldn’t argue. I had no energy to argue.
Suzette glided forward, smiling at me. “She’s awake, master. I’m surprised you didn’t sense she was faking.”
If I had any emotions left inside, I would’ve scowled at Suzette.
Q whirled to face me, then dashed to the edge of the bed. He took my hand. I wished he’d stop touching me. He squeezed my fingers. “Tell me what I can do to fix this. Fucking tell me right now. I’m done waiting for you to snap out of it.”
I waited for an urge to either squeeze him or pull away. But my tower kept me snug from everything. I hung in an eternity of nothingness.
“Just go. Return to work.”
His eyes delved into mine, but they weren’t soft and tender, they were agonizingly sharp. “My work is in ruins. Did you know that? I slandered the company’s reputation all in the name of saving you.”
“I’m sorry. Go live your life before you knew me then. Before I ruined everything for you.”
He looked away before roaring, “I had no fucking life before you. You are my life. Without you, I might as well take a shotgun to my head and join you in the dirt because, Tess, if you leave me—if you’re so fucking weak not to fight, then that is what will happen to me. You’ll crucify me.”
He leaned closer, bringing with him the smell of citrus and desperation. “So go ahead, esclave. Take my life as I’m not fit for anything anymore.”
Tossing my hand away, he stalked past Suzette and slammed the door closed behind him.
Whatever we’d had before was well and truly broken. I was broken. My soul tentatively touched the wall of the tower, wanting freedom to go after him. But I killed that part of myself. If I stepped free from my fortress, the guilt would find me. The ghosts would haunt me. I would die from an avalanche of emotion.
I raised my gaze to focus on Suzette.
She shuffled to the side of the bed with her tray. Up close it smelled like chicken noodle soup and fresh baguette. Her gaze was full of understanding painted on her pretty face. “Do you want to talk about what just happened?”
I shook my head. How could I talk about it when I’d been the devil? When I’d maimed and murdered? No one wanted to hear my plight. I didn’t deserve it.
“I know you must hate me for hurting him, but I won’t talk about it. Not to anyone.” My stare was a forceful warning.
She didn’t say anything as she placed the tray on my lap. When neither of us moved she whispered, “I don’t dare presume what they did to you, Tess. But if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I haven’t told you my story, and I don’t know if I should, but your broken finger looks a lot like all ten of mine did when I was sold to Q.”
My eyes flew to Suzette’s in horror.
I blocked out the pain of the pliers with the help of my tower, but how did Suzette do it?
“Whoever took you will never take you again. Q made sure of that.” Suzette added, “You don’t believe me?”
“He said they wouldn’t take me before, but they did. He lied, Suzette. But none of that matters because he found me. It wasn’t his fault. I was the one who let life get in the way and forgot to remove the tracker. I ruined Q’s business. I brought this on myself.” My voice was a monotone, never rising with hills and valleys of emotion. “I know you think I’m being silly, but I honestly can’t talk about it. A burden shared is a burden halved, or however that stupid proverb goes. But I’m deadly serious when I say the past is in the past and I refuse to think or feel or even acknowledge what happened.”
Suzette brushed a strand of brown hair off her forehead. “I understand more than you know. And I can’t force you to step out of that safety net you’ve created. Just try and remember all the things you’re sacrificing.”
“I’m—”
She held up a hand. “Let’s not think about it. You’re strong enough to have a shower. That will make you feel ten times better.” She smiled gently. “After all, you do kind of smell like road-kill.”
My lips quirked for her benefit only, and I let her move the tray and quilt so I could stand on wobbly legs.
She helped me upright, giving me time to cough wetly as the last dregs of liquid in my lungs sloshed around.
“Every step takes you closer to being well again, Tess. And I’ll be by your side as long as you need me.”
I smiled and let her lead me onward.
Chapter Seventeen
Quincy
Whimper and moan while I sit on my throne, we can be monsters together so we’re never alone…
I could no longer look at inane objects without wanting to smash them to fucking pieces.
Everything pissed me off. My temper broiled constantly, and the helplessness I felt when it came to Tess crippled me.
She shut me out. She flatly refused to talk to me—to tell me what happened so I could help fight her nightmares for her. She looked at me as if I was a fucking stranger.
I meant every word. If she gave up, gave up on herself, on us, then I had nothing left. She might as well have died in fucking Rio. I could’ve gone rogue and killed everyone until someone put me out of my misery.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst part was the nightmares and the skull-crushing pain of a migraine that refused to break. I lived on codeine and anti-inflammatories to try and function—to make sure I was there for Tess.
My one bodily weakness was determined to murder me all while Tess ripped out my aching heart.
No matter what I did, nothing worked. I slept beside her, nursed her. I died a little inside. The beast hated seeing her so meek and broken while the man learned a new compassion for caring. But day by day, hour by hour, the passion and need I felt for her turned from lover to brother. From consumed to confused.
I knew I could no longer hurt her and the sane part of me didn’t want to. But the part of me that knew Tess would never come back wanted to kill her faster. Just so the agony would be over with.
She looked at me with such emptiness it only m
ade me sink further into hell. I’d never be able to touch her again. Never draw blood or show her how much I cared with the use of a whip or flogger. That was all gone and I mourned for it. The beast lamented that I would never again have Tess panting in pleasure-pain, completely at my mercy. But now I mourned a deeper feeling.
I’d wrapped her in cotton wool; I’d doted on her for over two weeks. I watched as her body responded to treatment, how the bruises faded, and her lungs stopped wheezing. I stopped going to work so I could be with her every hour. I gave up my entire life to make sure I was there for her, but she didn’t want me.
She didn’t want the man with the beast who wanted to make her scream.
She didn’t want the man who cared for her so sweetly and would never hurt her.
She doesn’t want me.
Any part of me.
Frederick took over the company, and I had nothing to do with my time but lurk in my home, being confronted with so many injured and broken women. The beast inside trembled and huddled into a ball. It hated everything. It begged me to leave. To run.
Franco found me making my way outside. “Sir, the doctor and his team have finished their daily rounds for the women. Do you need them for anything else before they leave?” He came closer, eyeing me.
Franco hadn’t left me alone since damn Frederick told him to watch out for my migraines. He ratted me out to my own staff to keep an eye on me. I tore into Frederick for overstepping the line, but he just hung up on me. Bastard.
Franco always looked at me with fucking respect; now it bordered on friendship and pity. Even after everything we’d done in the warehouse, he thought I was weak.
I fucking hated it. I hate everything. I hate everyone. Tess did this. Tess cut out my soul and left me with nothing.
“Tell him to go. I don’t need him.” If I died of a migraine so be it. Then at last I might find peace.
“Are you sure?”
I glowered. “Don’t, Franco. Don’t ever forget your place.”
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