The Uprising (GRIT Sector 1 Book 2)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  "There is, and I will find it."

  "You're not good at this conversing thing, are you?" he seethed. "You know how to boil my blood and you've just lit the fire beneath me."

  "Can you blame me for wanting to leave?"

  "Yes. I told you, we'll fix this."

  "By continuing to kill?"

  "For Christ's sake." He slammed his hands to his knees and looked up at the heavens, no doubt for guidance. God had deserted us here. It was just us. "Will you just get over it? You killed him, he's gone, you've done what you were asked. You can't bring him back and you're not the woman I thought you were if that's what you long for."

  "I didn't want to do it!" It was my turn to yell, to meet his fire with an inferno. "You used my parents against me! I saw them for the first time last night and I can't even remember what they look like. All I can remember is the light in their killer's eyes going out." I tried to keep my emotions in check. "Can't you see how wrong that is? What it has done to me? I've lost myself, Elias. I found the people who created me at the same time you made me throw that girl away."

  "It was the only way."

  "For what?"

  "I left the hall during the reception last night."

  "I know." I nodded and whispered, "I feel when you're further away. I feel the distance between us like a heavy ache no amount of blind searching could ease."

  "Ambrose summoned me." He didn't react to my attempt at reconnecting. He didn't blink, showing no emotion when I told him I was tethered to him, no matter how much I wanted to cut through the binding. "Trixie, if you hadn't completed the task last night, he was going to take over."

  "What? Why?"

  "Because if you were any other woman I would have tortured you into obeying me."

  "Any other woman?"

  "You're mine. My father had no right to threaten to put his hands on you. To be there with you when you sacrificed yourself for us." He shook with anger and regret. "You weren't the only one who snapped. You're not the only one who'll regret what was supposed to be the best night of our entire lives."

  "Sacrificed myself?"

  None of what he was saying made sense, fragmented pieces of his words sticking more prominently than others.

  "Yes. You proved you can become a warrior. You might feel like you lost a part of yourself, that there's something wrong with you because you can't cry for the life you stole. It's normal."

  "None of this is normal."

  "You can shut it off, the guilt. You can control your emotions, segment them and place them in different archives. Guilt wouldn't have helped you last night. Regret will never help you. Instincts told you to lock empathy and remorse away because they're useless."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  "I won't believe you. I won't let you change me."

  "I'm not trying to change you!" He took another deep, composing breath. "I'm trying to make you. I'm trying to guide you into realising who you are."

  "A killer?"

  He paused, his head dipped low, eyes fixing on mine from beneath a hooded brow.

  "A queen."

  I shook my head. He nodded. Then he stood up and held his hands out for me. I took them without thought, before I could wonder what he intended. Now I was in his grip and he wouldn't let me catch him off guard again.

  "Where are we going?"

  "I'm going to show you what I mean."

  "No."

  I didn't trust him. I'd turned that off too, and I wouldn't switch it back on until he'd earned it.

  She pissed me off. She was the strongest, stubbornest person I'd ever met in my life, even to herself. She refused to believe what was right in front of her—that she didn't feel guilty for what she'd done.

  I loved her. I loved her with the cold contents of my black heart, the sparks and waves and ripples of my soul; my entire fucking existence was devoted to her, and I knew she could feel it. She wouldn't deny it because it was something we couldn't control. It was something totally out of our grasp, carrying us along on whatever journey our love for each other had planned for us.

  I had to prove my point.

  Trixie fought as I dragged her across the field, along the adjoining garden, and back to the house. I pulled her up the steps, careful not to let her trip, into the house and towards the office.

  "Elias, no." She cried. She begged. She still didn't understand the Sector wasn't something for her to fear. "Please. Please, no."

  "Stop it," I snapped, tugging on her hand to bring her closer to me.

  I needed her closer.

  I needed to feel everything she felt before she knew it.

  Shoving her in front of me so I could lock the door, I forced her to lead us to the bookcase. She strained as she pushed the shelves across, still refusing to give me all control although her body and mind screamed for me to take it. To educate her. To lead her into temptation and let her drink from the fountain of damnation. She stepped down and into the corridor; I followed and closed the bookcase behind us. I needed to place as many obstacles in front of her as possible. I couldn't let her escape before she understood. Before she believed me. Before she walked this path with her hand in mine.

  I didn't lead her to the jewel room. I didn't lead her to the first cell I'd taken her in. I didn't lead her to Sam's cell, the cell she'd called home for three months; the cell where she'd killed her parents' murderer. I didn't take her to the official rooms of the Sector. I led her past them all, turning her into another passage and leading her towards the end. When we reached the final room, I tapped her shoulder to stop her. She turned and faced the door in front of her.

  "What is it?"

  I said nothing. I took the key out from beneath my shirt and bent around her, feeling her warmth and cold fear, to unlock the door and push it open.

  A bed. Not just any bed; this one wasn't warm and inviting and intended for comfort.

  It was a torture table. It was made of rough, untreated wood, planks fixed together in sinister columns that reeked of ancient times and pain.

  "Elias."

  The bed had worn leather cuffs fixed to each corner, the holes in the straps hinting that they'd never been used on a woman before.

  "Take your clothes off, Ashford."

  "Don't call me that."

  "That's all you're worried about?" he scoffed. "Take them off...Blackwood."

  Blackwood. I was a Blackwood. I carried the same name, wore evidence of the same sins and lived in a world where I was bound to this man. And yet, I still couldn't force myself not to want it.

  With shaky hands and fingers tingling with anxiety, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and dropped it to the wet ground. I fumbled with the zip of my trousers, feeling Elias' heated gaze behind me. He was watching me undress, taking a moment to bask in his desire for me, before he returned to whatever it was he had planned. How could I have fallen for a man who had a multitude of torture devices at his fingertips? How had I fallen for a man who would use them? On me?

  "Hurry up, princess."

  I dropped the trousers with one push, toeing my shoes off as I stepped out of them and kicked everything towards him.

  "Take your bra off. Leave your knickers on."

  My breath escaped in a panic. Why did he want me to leave my underwear on? Why was that the one thing that had me terrified of his intentions? There was no promise of pleasure here, not when he planned to deny us both access to where I needed him. I tried to unclasp my bra, but my fingers were cold, trembling, and I couldn't do it. Elias snapped it open quickly, freeing the clasp with a flash whisper of a touch. I was exposed, as he pressed himself against me, his body hot and hard, and slid the straps down my arms.

  "On the bed," he whispered, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear before all warmth disappeared and I was left alone and vulnerable. I heard him shuffle behind me, and a deep breath told of his discomfort...and impatience.

  "Why?" I asked, finding my voice.

  A pause, pregnant with tension and hum
ming with sexual energy and terror. How could the two go hand in hand and still allow me to stand? I was suffocating in him, drowning in him, sacrificed to him against my will.

  "Because I asked you to."

  I knew I would do it; I just didn't want to. Or maybe I did. The best way to learn was to do, and I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything about the thing I hated, the thing I loved, the thing I still had no knowledge of, but a burning desire to explore.

  I took a careful step forward, my toes twitching on the cold stone as I sucked in a sharp breath. Running my hand over the wood, I winced. It was sharp. It was unforgiving. It was cold. Like GRIT.

  But they keep people safe in the village.

  I climbed onto the bed, sitting down to face Elias with my legs swinging, inches from the ground.

  "Lay down."

  I looked into his eyes, praying I'd see them beg me to defy. They pled with me to obey. So I did.

  She didn't argue. She didn't push me. She didn't claw at the evil I kept just out of reach and demand I force her into this.

  She accepted it.

  She accepted me.

  She accepted us.

  When Trixie was flat on her back on the table, I took a step towards her, drowning in the scent of her arousal, the warmth pouring from her in thick rivulets of confusion, and the flash of cosmic violet that longed to know why I was doing this.

  I grabbed her ankle and pulled it to the corner of the table. Trixie fought back on instinct, kicking out, sitting up to hold onto me and try to push me off.

  "Hey," I snapped. "Calm down. This isn't the first time I've tied you down."

  "I remember."

  We both glanced down at her leg, where two tiny silver slithers caught the orange light in the cell. Guilt had a place now. For me, not her. I could never erase the scars and I could never wipe the memories like I'd wanted to wipe her tears that day.

  But she didn't stop fighting. She kicked me and lashed out, gripping my shoulder and trying to shove me away. I'd have to disarm her first.

  Elias grabbed my neck, his fingers digging into my throat and holding me still. My arms fell slack by my sides as my eyes popped wide and I gasped for breath.

  "What are you-"

  "I told you to calm down. Stop fighting."

  "No."

  He didn’t soften his hold. He held me still and firm, restricting my breaths and forcing his physical power on me.

  “Do you know the punishment for eluding, Trixie?”

  “What?”

  His voice was calm and his body composed. He concealed every ounce of arousal he felt and my gaze dropped between his legs. Proof. He’d shut off. It left me alone and terrified.

  “Do you know what the punishment is for eluding?”

  “I didn’t elude.”

  “That’s exactly what you did.”

  I had. I had tried to run and, stupidly, I’d admitted to it. Now I had to face punishment. As Elias squeezed more oxygen from me until my lungs threatened to run dry and cave in, I tried to think back to history lessons. Capital punishment—stupid, I knew he wasn’t going to kill me…I hoped. I hoped he wasn’t going to kill me. But what was the point in keeping me alive when he knew I wanted, and intended to, escape? No. He would have just put a bullet in my head if he wanted a quick riddance. He was going to play with me, toy with me, take me to the edge and bring me back…I had no idea which torture method would do that.

  “I don’t know,” I choked. “Please…let go.”

  My head hit the wood with more force than I’d ever believed Elias would exert on me. My eyes stung with burning tears and my head throbbed with instant, paralysing pain.

  I couldn’t move to fight him off as everything burned from the intensity of his strength. He was angry. So angry. This was an Elias I hadn’t seen before. This was another man from the past I would have to find the capacity to love.

  I heard my husband growl as he moved to fix my wrists to the cuffs. When he pulled a knife out of the back of his trousers, I squealed and tried to curl my body up inside itself.

  “Stop. Now. Or I’ll make you stop.”

  With his forearm across my chest to hold me still and stop me wriggling, Elias laid the leather cuff flat on the table and pressed the tip of the blade into it, twisting to make another hole in the restraint. Now I knew his intention, I stopped struggling. He wasn’t going to cut me.

  Not yet.

  “Now, I’ll ask again,” he said as he fixed one wrist and then moved to repeat the process with the other arm. “Do you know the punishment for elusion?”

  I shook my head, my chin scraping against his rough forearm. His voice was different; monotonous and cold. He didn’t even sound like the same man. Someone else’s soul had taken over my husband’s body and I didn’t know what to do.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Elias dragged one hand over my collar bone, grabbing and squeezing each breast with a brute force that made my nipples pebble and my back arch off the table. He moved lower, snaking his hand from one side of my stomach to the other, until he reached the waistband of my underwear and stopped. His hand was hot, pulsing with heat against the wetness that had seeped through the lace covering my pussy. I lifted my hips and ground myself against his hand, just once, before he applied pressure and pinned me down. The splinters on the wood tickled my backside, the cold planks giving me no comfort against his relentless control. I felt my clit throb as his fingers dug under my pubic bone and squeezed to show me exactly who claimed who. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me…but he did slap my knees to part my legs when I drew them up to aid my hips in the search for friction. I gasped as the cold air licked my assaulted skin, letting my legs fall slack as Elias’ penetrating gaze roamed my body. His chest rose softly and fell gently. He could have been sleeping, in peaceful dreamland; his body gave nothing away. He’d shut me out. He’d shut down, let another ancestor take control, and I had no place here. This Eli wasn’t as merciful on women as the Elias I had come to adore.

  “The feet are a very important tool, Trixie.” He trailed down my left leg, cupping my ankle and raising my foot of the table. “What would you do without them?”

  His lips touched the pad of my toes, skating across sensitive nerve-endings that had a direct effect between my legs. I clenched for him, but I cursed my body for reacting. Elias’ tongue snaked out to trace the bottom of my foot, from heel to toe, and my toes curled without my permission. Pressing my foot back to the table, he nipped at my ankle and calf as deft fingers looped the cuff around it and locked it into place.

  “Hmm…?”

  He slid to the other side of the table, reminding me that he’d asked me a question. What would I do without my feet?

  No!

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, swallowing hard and trying to breath past the ball of terror that had lodged itself in my throat.

  “You use them to walk, to skip, to hop and jump.” I flinched at the coolness in his voice as his hot mouth pressed itself to my right foot, choreographing the same torturous dance it had done on my left. I squirmed, I tried to pull free, but he held me so hard, his fingers ground against my bones. “And to run.”

  He snapped the cuff into place, pulling hard before securing it. I felt the skin burn the second he let go. I’d have to remember not to move my foot—I feared I’d risk losing it.

  “Please.”

  “It originated in Asia, sometime in…a less-civilised era.”

  “What did?”

  I fought against the tense headache thrumming between my temples, to look up at Elias as he stepped away from the table and turned his back to me. He crouched to pick something off the floor, but when he stood, he remained facing away from me. His shoulders were hunched, his spine tingling with restraint. My Elias was in there somewhere and I had to find a way for him to return to me. Why was he doing this? How was this going to convince me of anything other than the hate I felt for him that I feared would soon outweigh
the love?

  When he turned, his black eyes sparkled, even in the faint light of the cell we were in. There was moisture in them, clouding the whites of them with regret and pre-meditated remorse.

  “You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked, catching me off guard with unexpected tenderness.

  “You love me?” I seethed, pulling against the cuffs on my wrists. “If that’s true, why the fuck am I fixed to a table?”

  I screamed. I screamed so loud I thought my lungs had up and left my body with the shrill. He’d hit me. I couldn’t see what with and I couldn’t locate exactly where he’d struck, but hot burning fire shot up my leg, pierced my hip and moved down to make my pussy quiver in fear and forbidden arousal.

  “Watch your mouth.”

  I would. I did not want to feel that again. When my nerves had stopped twitching from the shock, Elias stepped to the side of the table and through my blurred vision, I saw two sticks in his hands. Just sticks. There was nothing elaborate about them, nothing modern nor ancient; they were just sticks. Sticks?

  “I love you, Trixie. Believe me when I tell you it kills me to hurt you. I want to suffer everything I put you through a thousand times over so I can know how it feels to live inside you when I inflict pain on your perfect body and mind.”

  “Stop it.” I sniffed, the pain pulsing through me as it faded to a prickling ache. “If you’re going to hurt me, hurt me, but don’t pretend you regret it.”

  “But I do regret it. I do. The only reason I’ve got you here, trapped here unable to leave, is so you can see how much I hate doing this…yet I have the power to turn it off.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’d lay my life down for you. I would sooner force you into things we’ll both regret for as long as we live, than allow someone else to hurt you and be unable to balance the bad times with good.”

  “Elias…”

  He was killing me. It didn’t take pain, torture, this conflicted arousal that shot through me and seeped as far as the marrow in my bones. It wouldn’t take force, coercion, manipulation or power to kill me here. He did it with his words, with his carefully constructed utterances, smooth voice that leaked with debilitating pain, and words that I’d longed to hear with this much meaning and sincerity. Whatever he was saying, whatever he was trying to prove here, he believed in it with all of his existence. He loved me enough to allow me to hate him, so he could protect me from those who would kill me in a flash, with no afterthought.