“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He clipped the words short and then clapped his mouth shut. For a few minutes they sat in silence, and Neala shuffled herself back against a shelving unit and leaned back. She didn’t want silence at the moment, her adrenaline was still pumping, and she wanted answers. She wanted to know how the fuck she had gone from planning a cottage with her – whatever Kiernan was – to being on her knees in Ráj Manor again.
“So, Andrew... you tried to buy me?” Neala tried to consciously drop the hostility from her voice, and his eyes jumped to meet hers as the blush crept back up his neck.
“Yes, but it -” He cursed under his breath and yanked the zip-ties back against the shelving causing it to shake a little. “I was trying to help you. After they – after he hurt you, I just wanted to get you away from them.”
“What was your plan?” She noticed his eyes dropped, but he seemed to steel himself for the conversation and looked back up at her.
“I hadn’t exactly thought it out. It’s not like I have some big estate. People would notice if I brought you home. Maybe I would have tried to free you, maybe I’m not as good as I think I am and I would have kept you. I don’t know. I never had the chance to find out.” He sounded ashamed, but he kept his eyes on hers and she had to respect the honesty.
“I knew you were trying to be some knight at the party, but I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not the damsel you should pick if you’re feeling heroic.” Neala’s sarcasm took over as the constant humming pain of the bands began to fade. The curse seemed happy to have a master again, and the bands were responding to Marik in a way she’d never seen.
“Yes, I noticed.” Andrew had his own bitterness, and looking at his injuries, knowing that before now he’d led a life of privilege, she could imagine that this was beyond horrible to him.
“Well…” Neala swallowed her anger, her hidden fears of the situation, and the leftover frustration she had at his active participation in the Winter Dinner, and spoke again, “Thanks for trying to help, and I’m sorry you got dragged into this. Do whatever you have to do so you can go home. You can’t help me.”
His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“Tell them whatever they want to hear, Andrew, and go home.” She sighed, trying to find a comfortable position.
“They’ll –” he was struggling with the words. Some sense of propriety stymieing his vocabulary, but he seemed to find some balls when he looked up at her again. “They’ll do horrible things to you, Fae.”
“My name isn’t Fae, and yes, they will. They’re going to do horrible things to me either way, so do what I said. Save yourself.”
“I -”
“Save yourself, Andrew.” She locked her eyes with him, and he looked like he was about to speak again but he stopped himself. Defeat washed over him like a wave, and he turned to face the shelving. That was the last time they talked, after all, there really wasn’t anything more to say after that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ráj Manor, Caledon, Ontario
After about twenty minutes of uncomfortable silence, the door clicked and a young guard opened it. She hadn’t seen him before and Neala tensed, but the brown haired man just moved over and gently helped her to her feet. “I need you to come with me.”
Dread pooled in her stomach, but part of her was relieved to not have to sit and watch Andrew spiral further into his self-loathing; she just didn’t have the energy for it. The man led her out of the storeroom silently, keeping his touch light on her arm as they walked. Thoughts swirled in her head – of Kiernan, of the life they’d almost had, and of what waited for her now that she was back in this house.
Suddenly the guard stopped near the entry to the hall of master suites and his grip tightened on her arm before he let go completely and stepped away from her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“What?” Neala snapped at him, and he shook his head, laughing bitterly. She rolled her eyes and stood in the middle of the hallway, waiting for the idiot to get himself under control. There was too much on her mind to worry about some asshole’s personal issues. She’d already done that with Andrew.
Honey brown eyes turned to her and he gripped his hair at the root, looking her over. His voice was tired when he spoke, “I thought you got out for good.”
The words felt like a slap and she fought the urge to flinch against the memories of Kiernan’s couch, of Elsie, of Kiernan’s bed. “Why do you care, guard?”
“Hills.”
“What?” Neala glared at him, jerking against the ties on her wrists, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers anymore.
“Nothing.” The man reached forward and pulled her down the hall again. They were in the shorter west wing that had held Nikola’s bedroom, but the guard stopped in front of a different door. He lifted his hand to knock, and his knuckles went white with the hard grip of his fist. “Just be careful.”
“Like that’s fucking possible…” Neala muttered and he sighed and let go of her arm. Then his knuckles landed on the door in a quick series of loud knocks.
Butler opened it.
Neala regretted for a moment that she’d pushed him, because his anger was simmering just behind his eyes and she knew he could snap at any moment. When he suddenly smiled at her she unconsciously took a step back, but the other guard was right behind her and she bumped into him.
“So glad you could join us, Fae.” Butler grabbed her arm to pull her inside, and then nodded at the guard with her, “Stay outside, Hills.”
The guard, Hills, gave her one last look and she couldn’t figure out why he’d said anything to her. Why he had even bothered. Then he turned away and leaned against the wall outside the door. Butler turned her around and when the door clicked shut behind her, her pulse started racing as panic rose up inside her. The curtains on the windows were drawn against the cold, and there wasn’t much light in the room to see by. Butler dug his fingers into her skin again and pulled her forward into the room, towards the bed. She planted her feet on the carpet and jerked to the side, breaking his hold on her so she could step away from him.
If he thought she was going willingly to whatever he had planned, he was wrong.
“You really are this defiant all the time, aren’t you?” Marik’s voice, smooth and calm like his father’s, came from her right. He was lounging in a chair against the wall and she saw his face when he flicked his lighter to light a cigarette. “We’ll see how long you keep that up.” Out of the corner of her eye Butler lunged for her, but Marik raised his hand and Butler stopped short. He grumbled to himself and moved to flip on a lamp.
“I have some questions for you, and I encourage you to answer them honestly,” he paused, “Well, just to be safe, Fae, I order you to tell me the truth.” Marik leaned forward in the chair, and Neala rolled her shoulders as she felt the warning hum in the bands. “Butler has told me you said Andrew Clark had nothing to do with your escape, is that true?”
“Yes.” Neala clipped the word short, leaving off any honorific he may have been hoping for. Marik didn’t seem surprised by her answer, or the lack of a painful response from the bands.
“Alright. Butler, release him. I’d rather have him out making me money than taking up space in my house. Make it clear to him that if this little incident were to damage our business relationship I’d be very disappointed.” Marik gave a smile as Butler passed by and opened the door to talk to the guard in the hallway. “Next question, how did you kill my father?”
“I don’t know.” Neala waited for the bands to react for the vague answer, but they didn’t respond at all. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that her guesses had not counted as knowledge to the curse. Marik’s eyes narrowed slightly as Butler slipped in silently and returned to standing behind her.
“You don’t know how you killed him?” He was clarifying to give the bands another chance to respond, and she could feel Butler’s rapt attention on her as he caught on to the current line of questioning.
> “No.” She rolled her shoulders trying to adjust the tight ties on her wrists. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Butler shaking his head at Marik. No, the bands were not responding.
“How interesting…” He sat back in the chair, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. “Now, for the question of the hour - who helped you escape the guards?”
Neala clenched her jaw shut. She wasn’t going to name Kiernan. She wouldn’t reveal who he was or where he lived because she knew Butler and his men would track him, and Kiernan would fight for her, and it would all be pointless. She’d still be claimed, and he would still be Laochra. If the curse was dragging her back, she wasn’t letting it drag him down too. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to ruin his life. The bands pulsed against her skin and the aching pain started to crawl up her arms, digging into her shoulders like claws.
“You’re really not going to answer me?” Marik seemed a little surprised, and he watched her with a fascinated expression as the pain suddenly doubled and she clenched her teeth to suppress a gasp.
“No.” Neala spit out the word, and his eyes widened slightly before he masked his face with a smile.
“You are feisty. I like it, it makes things interesting.” Marik took a long, slow drag on the cigarette as he trailed his eyes over her, letting the smoke trail out as he spoke. “Well, if you don’t want to answer any more questions, undress.”
Neala’s stomach flipped and she pulled against the zip-ties unconsciously. Butler laughed to himself and stepped up behind her. She felt his hands pull her wrists back, a quick movement and the zip-ties were cut. Neala stood there, rubbing her wrists while a smile settled on Marik’s face. Her discomfort seemed to be what was making him enjoy the moment so much, so she had to make herself not care. The bands were glowing brightly as they hummed another warning against her skin. Undress.
She’d had a month of freedom, of being in control of her own actions, and for a moment she contemplated letting the bands do their worst just to spite him. Maybe she’d black out from the pain, and then none of it would matter. Marik rolled his eyes, done with waiting, and stubbed out the cigarette in a small tray beside him.
“You can either do it yourself, or I’ll have Butler help you. Your choice.” He gave her a look that dared her to call him on the bluff, and she saw Butler move closer.
“No, wait.” Neala held out her hand towards Butler, the idea of him touching her made her sick. She wanted to put off being near him for as long as possible. Being back in the house already made her stomach turn, and right now she wished she had Kiernan’s power to just disappear with a thought. She’d go back to the spot he had picked for the cottage, and see it in the daylight.
Gray skies, and craggy mountains, and lush green grass.
“Now, Fae.” Marik’s voice broke into her thoughts and yanked her back to reality with the name that had always been a synonym for slave. Neala took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself enough to become as detached as she’d been before. She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and started to pull it off over her head, but Marik’s voice interrupted her, “Slow.”
Butler was an arm’s length away from her, and she knew he’d jump at the opportunity to humiliate her, so she slowed down. Shirt first, which she dropped to the floor, and then she slid the jeans to the floor, revealing skin inch by inch. She could see red marks on her sides from the hits she’d taken earlier. If they had enough time they’d bloom into bruises, but she’d probably heal before then. She pushed the clothes to her side with her foot and Marik clapped his hands together loudly.
“Lovely. Keep the bra and panties. I think this is a much better uniform than the dress, don’t you Butler?” Neala focused on the wall past Marik’s head, if she could just ignore him she’d halt the blush creeping across her cheeks. She tried to remind herself that she was basically in a bikini, and people wore those for fun; she’d seen them in the store with Kiernan.
“Of course, sir.” Butler’s voice didn’t sound convinced, but he’d never been interested in the girls’ clothes. When it came to his entertainment, he preferred force and violence, not pretty clothes.
“Okay, Fae, on the bed.” Marik stood up and Neala moved backwards from him. She shook her head, and felt the hum of the bands pick up, and a sharp pain began between her shoulder blades. The first sign of irritation appeared on Marik’s face and he sighed. “Fine. You want it that way? Butler, help her.”
Neala had lost track of Butler when she was focused on Marik and suddenly Butler’s arms went around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She kicked back into his shin when he lifted her off the ground and he cursed.
His words growled in her ear as he half-dragged her backwards, “You never listen to me, but now you’ll see.” When he got to the bed he picked her up and dropped her onto it, and she immediately sat up to try and get away from him. Butler just grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head, his tight grip making them ache even through the pain from the bands.
Then, Marik was suddenly above her, straddling her waist to keep her there. “Butler is going to let go of your arms, but I order you not to move them, got it?” Marik’s voice was still calm, and Neala felt the bands hum against her wrists. The urge to cry rose up suddenly and she clenched her teeth against it, but Marik must have seen the tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, don’t be upset yet, we haven’t even started! I wanted our first encounter to make it clear to you who’s in charge here. As long as you obey me, I won’t have to hurt you, and while these bands of yours are interesting I’m a lot more hands on when it comes to punishment. Understand?”
Neala felt taut as a bowstring, and she was holding her breath because she was worried if she breathed it would come out as a sob. She tried to release her mind to wander like she used to do so easily. She didn’t want to be here right now. If she could detach and be somewhere else it wouldn’t matter, none of it would matter. That morning she’d been planning a future, a real one, where she’d be happy and now she was back, but she could picture that open green space at the foot of the mountains and her unique little design-confused cottage.
Marik grabbed her face hard and leaned down over her, breaking the fragile vision she’d been building. “Hey! Come on now, you have to look at me. Don’t lose focus. Answer me when I ask you a question, or I’ll hurt you. It’s very simple. Do you want me to hurt you?” Marik’s calm façade was slipping a little, and the bands pulsed a wave of pain down her arms. It collided with the tension in her chest and she winced and glanced over at Butler. She knew he was enjoying this, and that he’d take any opportunity Marik gave him to hurt her. He was just waiting for Marik’s order.
“No. I don’t.” She hated how her voice cracked when she was on the verge of tears, and Butler just smiled down at her. Marik tightened his grip on her face and made her look at him.
“Why are you looking at Butler? I’m the one you need to focus on. I’m the one in charge.” Marik’s eyes were fierce, and she realized that underneath that cool exterior was a rage she had never seen in Nikola. It made her stomach drop. A muscle in Marik’s jaw ticked and he suddenly reached over towards Butler, and when he leaned back he had Butler’s knife in his hand. Neala stilled as he pressed the edge against her neck.
“I understand that my father didn’t like to get his hands dirty.” Marik started to trail the knife down her chest and towards her stomach, but he wrapped his other hand around her neck and squeezed lightly to keep her from lifting her head. “I am not my father. I think a level of fear creates a healthy respect, and I believe you should fear me.” There was a blinding pain in her side and she started to cry out, but Marik’s hand tightened on her throat until she couldn’t breathe.
The knife. He’d actually cut her.
He was smiling when he leaned down to her face again, and she was starting to panic from the lack of air, but when she tried to shift she realized the knife was in her side. She felt dizzy, and nauseous, and Marik was watching her face as the edges
of her vision started to go dark. Then she heard a knock at the door. Marik removed the blade and released her throat in one swift movement, and she gasped from the pain of the knife being torn out of her. She tried to move her hand to her side, but the bands sent a jolt of pain through her bones.
He’d ordered her not to move her hands.
Except now she was bleeding, and she couldn’t tell how much, she could only feel the pain that washed over her in cold sweeps. She was definitely crying now. How could things have gone so wrong so fast?
“Sir? The lawyers are saying they can’t leave until you finish signing the documents.” Hills was at the door speaking. Marik twisted at his waist above her, blocking her view and looking at the door.
“I already signed the estate documents.” Marik growled out the words, but the calm mask was slowly descending over him again.
“I’m sorry, sir, they asked us to find you. They said they can’t process your requests without your signature.”
Marik’s head turned back to face her, and he brushed a thumb across her temple wiping the tears that had gathered there. He looked completely disappointed at having to leave her now, and that made her sick.
He had wanted fear, he had it.
In a swift movement he was off her and back on his feet, a nonchalant calm settling over him. He wiped the knife across the front of his white shirt, leaving two swipes of bright red, before he handed it back to Butler.
Apparently he wanted to make it clear to the lawyers that they had interrupted him.
“Well, then, let’s go tend to business. Have Fae taken to the girls’ quarters, I’m sure they would love to see that she’s back.” Marik took a few steps towards the door and turned around. “You can move your arms now, Fae. I’ll come get you later so we can continue our discussion. For now, you should think about trying to keep me in a good mood.”
Neala winced when she sat up and swallowed the scream that caught in her throat when she applied pressure to her side. She glared across the room at him, asking quietly through clenched teeth, “Why?”
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