Monsters in the Dark

by Winters, Pepper

  Q climbed out, slamming the door behind him. He came forward, glowering at Franco.

  “As-tu fini?” Are you quite done? Q’s anger lashed us, snarling the tropical air into a turbulent eddy. “Can I have her back now? Or are you planning on taking her out to dinner?”

  “Q…he was only being—”

  “I don’t fucking care what he was being.”

  Franco shrugged. “She’s my boss too, you know. Have to keep the employers happy.” Two very strong and opinionated male egos clashed. Lowering his head, Franco glared under his brow. “Keep your anger for those who deserve it, Mercer.”

  Franco gave me a smile. “Like I said, you’re safe with him and I’m always there as back-up.”

  Q coughed as if he couldn’t believe Franco’s nerve.

  My emotions toward Q’s head of security were mixed. At the beginning I’d hated him, then I grew to care for him, seeing him as a loyal employee, but now…now I sensed he’d been initiated into Q’s world a bit too well. He seemed dangerous—wearing the same edginess and unpredictability that Q did. Whatever happened in their hunt to find me, Franco had adopted the darkness.

  I doubted Suzette would be pleased. I always had a suspicion she had a little crush on Franco. I knew Suzette was madly in love with my husband to be, but it wasn’t sexual love, more like a saviour complex, kind of love.

  “That’s comforting to know. Thank you.” I pressed against Q, trying to unwind the tightness in his body.

  I wanted to ask what Q had done in Brazil, but a grisly still-warm heart leapt into my mind and suddenly I didn’t want to know—I had enough filth inside my brain.

  Q bared his teeth. “Yes, very comforting. Now fuck off and flirt with someone else’s woman. I won’t need you for the rest of the night.”

  Franco splayed his hands, brushing away the angst between them. “Book me a room, and I’ll stay out of your way. You know my number if something happens.” Giving me a small salute, he grinned. “Enjoy your evening. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about whom to fear.”

  “Franco! As-tu perdu la tête, putain?” Have you lost your fucking mind? Q was absolutely livid. His eyes narrowed to slits, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.

  I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye as Q grabbed my elbow, charging me toward the entrance. I looked over my shoulder, relieved to see Franco laughing, fully enjoying getting a rise out of Q. At least he hadn’t quit or aimed a gun at Q’s back.

  “Q, it’s okay. He was only trying to—”

  “I know what he was trying to do, and it damn well worked. Fucking idiot.” He nodded tersely at a man in a green suit who opened the large glass doors for us. “I have no right to be pissed off, yet I can’t stop it. Guess I’ll have to apologise.”

  I shivered as we walked from island heat into freezing air-conditioning of a five star glitzy hotel. I wanted to say something—anything to have the Q who’d been so gentle and forthcoming come back.

  There were many forms of pain, and right now my heart was suffering.

  “Pain is your only option, puta. Hit her.”

  I closed my eyes for a second, slapping the voices away.

  Q stalked through the hotel lobby, dragging me in his terrible wake. Needing to find normal again, I asked, “Do you own this hotel, too?” I blinked, focusing on the imposing pillars, the ginormous potted plants, and grand piano with expensive looking cocktail bar to the right. The lobby spoke of island tranquillity and exoticness.

  All this—this wealth—came with the package of being with Q. I still struggled to get used to it.

  Q slammed to a halt, yanking me against him.

  Instantly my heart clawed up my throat. The burning, searing awareness of his erection dug against my belly. His eyes looked too ferocious to be gentle.

  He’s going to hit you. The minute you’re behind closed doors he’ll strike.

  I wanted so much for the rush of wetness between my legs. The intoxication of lust in my blood.

  “You wouldn’t like that would you, esclave? Yet another property; yet another possession.” He shook his head. “Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu détestes autant l’argent.” I don’t understand why you hate money so much.

  My heart pumped harder as a few guests glanced over, their faces freezing in judgement. To anyone who didn’t know us, the way Q held me would look like a bad argument or worse, domestic violence.

  “Q, don’t be so rough. You’ll have security asking questions.”

  He growled, “I’d like to see them probe into affairs that aren’t any of their goddamn business.”

  I couldn’t stop the knotting of my stomach or the slight queasiness of Q’s temper. Something else must’ve upset him. Franco couldn’t have riled him up this much. Could he?

  Wishing I could force him to look at me instead of through me, I whispered, “Is everything alright?”

  “Don’t speak to me,” Q muttered. His tone tightly controlled and ice cold.

  I’ve done something wrong.

  I was sure of it.

  He’s guessed.

  No, that couldn’t be possible. Please, don’t let that be possible. Only moments ago he’d been sweet and kind and very much together. Would I always suffer whiplash where his mercurial emotions were concerned?

  Looking around at the milling guests, I hissed, “Stop making a spectacle, Q. People are looking.”

  “They can look all they want. And to answer your question, no, I don’t own this hotel. If I did, I would’ve kicked everyone out by now so I could teach you a lesson right here.”

  My eyes flared. “Teach me a lesson? What the hell did I do?” My lungs worked harder, saturating my blood with anger, ready to fight, ready to retaliate.

  “You—you….Goddammit, I don’t know.” He sighed. The blazing fire in his gaze snuffed out, becoming human once again.

  My own temper fizzled. Taking a risk, I rested a palm over his heart. “Take me to a room. Use me to forget whatever’s upsetting you.”

  Use your chains. Use your scissors. Use whatever you want.

  Before the image would’ve made me throb for a release. Now…now I vibrated to avoid it.

  His shoulders tightened. “I’ve wanted you since you woke up screaming this morning.” His hand imprisoned mine, pressing my fingers harder against his chest. “I won’t hold back. I can’t hold back. Tell me now if that’s going to be an issue.”

  Tears rushed my spine. Sadness filled my heart.

  Yes, it’s an issue. But no, I won’t tell you.

  Stepping into the role of Old Tess, I murmured, “I want you. I need you to hurt me, Q. I need to remember.”

  Q’s back snapped straight. With a fierce kiss, he dragged me the rest of the way to reception in a flurry of footsteps.

  The woman behind the desk was gorgeous with long black hair, thick eyelashes, and moon-sized eyes. She radiated an aura of strength and independence—exactly the type of woman Q admitted he liked—someone who wasn’t broken. Someone who would fight him.

  A sharp band of jealousy struck from nowhere as the woman smiled at my master, batting those ridiculously thick eyelashes. I watched Q carefully, trying to read how affected he was by her.

  He didn’t even glance at her. Dropping my elbow, he snatched his wallet from his back pocket, yanking out a credit card. Handing it over, he ordered, “The best room you have available and a suite for a colleague.”

  The receptionist’s mouth parted slightly as she took the credit card, eyeing Q with interest. Her smile encompassed coyness rather than professionalism. I welcomed the snarl in my stomach. I loved the ignition of rage. Adored my willingness to fight.

  It was so different to hurting the women in Rio. This I would gladly start and end.

  Something shifted in me. Something small but fundamental as I took back a piece of my life—acknowledging my urge to hurt another.

  “Is there a problem?” I said, dragging the girl’s eyes to mine. I had the sudden need t
o smooth my hair. I wished I wore a tailored dress or some exorbitantly expensive jewels. I felt so ordinary next to Q. But he was mine.

  Hands off, bitch.

  Her smile froze, turning to brittle efficiency. “No. No problem.”

  We both jumped as Q slapped the counter. “When I asked for a room, I want it now, not tomorrow.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, bending to look at the computer screen. The cattiness and female challenge between us faded as her interest in Q died a quick death thanks to his rudeness.

  After a second, she said, “We only have the Presidential suite available.”

  “Fine. Book it.”

  “How many nights will you be staying?” She fluttered those obnoxious lashes in Q’s direction.

  “Not sure. Keep it open-ended.”

  Her eyes popped wide; I swallowed back my smugness. Q was dangerous. He was dark. But he was also the most generous, sexy, powerful man I’d ever met.

  Happiness ballooned as Q glanced my way. He didn’t acknowledge me, but we were linked too deep. We belonged.

  I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

  “Um, well. We can’t just hold it. It’s four thousands euros a night. Should I book for the one night, or a week, or what?”

  Q bristled, electrifying the air. “Charge me whatever you want but give me the keys.” His eyes fell on me, melting the ice in my blood, turning me into a flickering candle ready to burn.

  Holy crap. It wasn’t often that I blushed. But damn, Q set my cheeks on fire.

  The girl dropped her eyes, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

  A moment later, Q fisted the old-fashioned key she held up, and dragged me like his hard-won prey toward the elevator.

  “I’ll keep the other key here for your colleague. Oh by the way, dinner is included in the room rate. I’ll advise your butler to confirm your menu selections,” the woman called after us.

  Q slammed to halt, spinning back toward her. “If anyone interrupts us, I’ll have this entire hotel bulldozed to the ground. No dinner. No reservation. No menus. Nothing.” A smile decorated his face, struggling to project a businessman rather than a beast. “Merci.”

  I didn’t say a word as we rushed to the elevators. He punched the ‘up’ button. His fingers tightened around mine until mini-heartbeats pounded in time with my fear.

  The lift pinged. We entered.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  No one else entered.

  Three seconds.

  Four seconds.

  The doors closed.

  The lift hadn’t moved before Q launched himself at me.

  Grabbing my hips, he hoisted me upward, slamming my back against the mirrored panelling. Instinctively my legs wrapped around his body, joining us tightly together.

  The second Q rested between my legs, he thrust upward, grinding himself violently against me. His glowing eyes captured mine, his mouth tightening into a grimace. “Fuck, I’m hard. Can you feel it? Fucking hell, Tess. Qu'est-ce que t’es en train de me faire?”

  What are you doing to me?

  The air no longer held oxygen, only need.

  I bent my head to kiss him, but he denied me his lips. Tilting my face, I managed to find his cheek, then throat, then ear. Tracing my tongue around the shell and fleshy lobe, I murmured, “You need to be in me. I need you to be in me.”

  He growled, driving up harder. The beads of my spine throbbed against the unforgiving mirror.

  “You have no fucking idea, esclave. Needing you frays my patience. Needing to come makes me insane. I’m running out of control.” His voice dripped with black desire—stealing thoughts straight out of my head.

  My ears roared with blood; I grew wet with every uncontrolled and savage thrust. I relished the melting, hoping against hope I remained turned on. Fear had no place here. Not while I had the man who’d saved my life between my legs.

  Q’s anger switched to feral desire. I latched onto his strength, keeping myself locked in delectable lust.

  I moaned as Q fisted my hair, giving him access to my throat. His wet mouth covered the sore brand and the stinging pain of an unhealed wound sent a tangle of terror through me.

  I wanted to be with him—more than anything. I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted to hold him close and have his body blanket mine. I wanted to feel safe.

  “Hit her, puta. Kill her, puta. Obey us!”

  “Goddammit, esclave. I need you. I need—” Q’s breathing was ragged, harsh. His hand dropped from my hair to my breast, cupping me with vicious fingers. Sensitivity erupted to agony; I bit my lip, scrambling to keep hold of desire.

  I’m not strong enough.

  My eyes squeezed. I willed my body not to expose me.

  In some far away universe, the elevator doors opened.

  An embarrassed cough.

  It sounded out of place to the heavy breathing and absorbed world we lived in.

  Q twisted his head. “Ah, fuck me,” he grumbled. His hips withdrew from mine and the violence of his touch receded to let me slither down his body and land on my feet.

  An elderly man in an immaculate tuxedo, bowed. His black eyes looked flustered, shining with wry amusement. “I believe you booked the Presidential suite. I’m the butler, Andre.”

  I gawked, unable to act normal while so much intensity bubbled in my blood.

  Q however slipped into egotistical businessman, dragging me from the lift. “Yes, we’re staying in the suite. No, we don’t need anything. You’re dismissed for the rest of the night. Thank you for your time.”

  The butler bowed again, his lips turning up ever so slightly. “I’ll be on extension 232 if you require anything.” Entering the lift we’d just vacated, he smiled. “Good day to you both.”

  The doors shut but it didn’t cut off the small peel of laughter.

  My heart hadn’t had time to stop racing; my hands shook. Once I entered that room, I could no longer be weak. I could no longer indulge in the horror and memories drowning me.

  Q believed I was the perfect masochist to his sadistic needs.

  I am that girl.

  I am.

  “Nosy old bastard,” Q muttered, fishing the key from his pocket. The entire floor housed the Presidential suite. There was only one door, and Q attacked it with the key. It swung open thanks to a well-placed kick.

  I laughed softly. “He didn’t exactly want to see two people groping each other. Hazards of the job I can imagine.”

  Q lassoed my wrist, yanking me into the room. With a dark smile, he slammed the door and spun me against the wall. The second my back hit resistance, Q froze. His eyes fixed me in place, adding more bubbles to my blood.

  I forced myself to relax. Give in. I had to trust him and let go completely.

  Don’t tense.

  I had to trust in my strength to survive whatever he would do.

  He can’t know.

  Our breathing accelerated, filling the suite with overwhelming tension. Q raised his arm, slowly, so, so slowly, dragging out the anticipation until I quivered against the wall.

  “Where were we before we were interrupted?” His eyes fell to my brand, his jaw locking. Something animalistic flickered over his face, transforming him into something far scarier than human. “Seeing my mark on your skin—it does things to me, Tess. It affects me here.” He thwacked his chest with a fist. “It calms me here.” He tapped his temple.

  Q was so strong and invincible but beneath it all he was insecure—just like me. He needed daily affirmations that I wouldn’t leave. That I wouldn’t lock him out like before.

  We were the same.

  We need to talk.

  Q reached forward, running his fingertips along my jaw. In their wake, he left me on fire. My heart scurried faster and faster, hurling itself to its doom.

  “So many things I want. So many things I need to do.” Q’s fingers trailed down my throat, making their lazy way to hold my neck hostage.

  My hands
balled by my sides; my breathing turned fast and reedy. I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t.

  He’s going to hurt you. Spank you. Bite you.

  The panic was worse than the pain and out of nowhere a familiar tug happened deep inside. A tug of promise—a shelter where I’d once hidden.

  The tower.

  Horror shoved away the first brick sliding into place. No!

  Never again would I shut myself off. No matter what I went through I couldn’t go back into that circular prison. I wouldn’t find my way out again.

  Q’s fingers squeezed, reminding me of the day he’d strapped me to the cross and waited to see how far I’d let him go.

  I couldn’t stomach the stretching tautness. If I let Q draw out the connection, he’d taste my reluctance.

  I did the only thing I could.

  I threw myself at him.

  Q’s fingers broke away from my throat, falling to his side as I jumped on him. He grunted as my body weight knocked his balance, making him stagger backward.

  I was the one taking. I was the one reclaiming our relationship and even though I knew pain would be forthcoming, I relished the power at the surprise in Q’s eyes.

  But then it was gone. Replaced with fierce lust and unfathomable possession.

  “Fuck, Tess.” That was all Q managed before I slammed my mouth against his, shutting him up. He groaned as I wrapped my legs around him just like in the lift.

  His biceps rippled, holding my weight, only to spin me around and smash me against the opposite wall.

  I clawed at his back, hoping to enrage him enough to use me fast and hard. Fast because as much as I wanted him, I wanted it over quickly. Fast was good—fast hid everything slow would reveal.

  His tongue lashed out, taking complete possession of my mouth. I squirmed closer, pulling his hair, forcing him to hurtle toward violence.

  He growled as I reached down and grasped his cock as hard as I could.

  “Fuck.” His hips pistoned, crunching my wrist between us. My mouth opened in a silent scream but Q used the advantage to kiss me harder, deeper, wider.

  “What are you?” he grunted, rocking into me.

  “You’re worthless. You belong to us. Withdrawal will make you do anything, obey anyone. You’re ours.”