“She still alive?” came a low gruff voice from
behind him, startling him.
Tyr bolted to his feet, spinning; the chair he had been sitting on clattered backwards halfway across the room, and he instinctively reached for his gun, a weapon which was no longer strapped to his chest. It had jabbed into Carrie’s side when she begged for him to hold her, hurting her, and he had set it off to the side. His hands fumbled in mid air.
“Damn you, don’t sneak up on me!” Tyr raged. His fists were balled.
“Well hell, didn’t you hear the plane land or the
front door open?” Roll asked incredulously. He scooped up the chair, settling it back into place.
“No, I didn’t,” Tyr snapped, overcome with embarrassment. He became agitated with his revelation. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew better; he should have been paying closer attention.
Frowning, Roll moved to the bed and sat beside
Carrie, who had awoken the moment she heard Roll’s
deep voice. She begged him not to hurt her. She tried to lift her arms in her defense. She whimpered she had been trying to eat, Tyr would confirm it. She wasn’t trying to anger him on purpose anymore. She sobbed up at him, obviously terrified his powerful hand would strike, while she whimpered how badly she already ached.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed up at him.
“I won’t hurt you. I want to help you. I have something you need to take,” Roll said.
He produced a bottle of thick, cloudy liquid. After
shaking it, he measured out the dose and held her head up, encouraging her to drink it down. She did her best while choking and coughing, her complaisant actions proving she didn't want to anger him.
He offered her a sip of water she also accepted without a fuss. But when Roll produced another syringe, she cried out and cowered back, begging, struggling to pull away from him. She once more held up frightened hands to shield her. She begged she would listen to him, she wouldn’t run again.
“Tyr,” she wept, reaching for him.
Tyr immediately went to her and gathered her into his arms, speaking calmly, running his hands over her quivering body, trying to still her. He looked at Roll questioningly. He wondered fretfully if he had found a buyer for her after all, even in the terrible state she was in. He didn’t think she could handle a flight in her condition.
“She’s in pain. She can’t be getting enough sleep. I can see her exhaustion; she needs rest now while the medicine works. This will help her relax. In fact, you better watch to see how it’s done. She may need more after I leave, and perhaps once she gets better,” Roll informed him.
Tyr knew he was right. He had been up all night
with her as her condition worsened. He hadn’t gotten much sleep while propped up in the hard chair, watching over her. The bed wasn’t large enough to fit his frame, although he couldn’t possibly leave her alone in the severe state she had been in. Finally, he had sat on the edge at the top of the bed. He had held her, cradled within his arms, when she cried from the agony in her chest. He had encouraged small sips of water past her parched lips. He had stroked her forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow with a cool cloth. He had bathed her legs and arms.
“It will be fine, Carrie. Roll is right, you need to get some rest, away from the pain you’re feeling. I’ll be here for you. Don’t be afraid; I won’t leave you, I promise,” Tyr told her. He offered her his most persuasive smile, and she relaxed against him.
He held her in his arms, comforting her, while
those baby blue eyes of hers gazed upon him so trustingly. He watched as Roll inserted the needle into her vein. She stilled almost instantly in her exhausted state. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her head rolled onto his chest. Roll lifted her eyelids with
a careful thumb, and explained to Tyr to watch for dilation.
He placed his hand over her left breast and
encouraged Tyr to do the same when he finished, checking the beat of her heart. Roll turned Carrie onto her side and propped a pillow securely behind her back before pulling the blankets up over her. To Tyr she looked deathly still.
“You don’t want her on her belly or back. She’ll
choke to death if she vomits. It doesn’t take long; she won’t be able to turn herself. All you need is to take a damn piss and come out, and she’ll be dead,” Roll said grimly.
“How do you know?” Tyr asked.
Roll stood and ran a hand through his hair. “Happened to my third one years ago when I was real green at the start. Damn shame, too. I felt bad, still do. She was a sweet little thing, and almost as good looking as this one, except her hair was dark as midnight, sassy green eyes... A real little firecracker like this one, too. I left for a moment, came back in, and she was gone. I tried everything to revive her but it was too late. The big boys were pissed with me; she was supposed to have been a gift. I thought I was a goner for sure. But Tony gave me a second chance. Told me to learn from my mistake, and I did.”
“You lose any more?”
“A couple. One I overdosed by mistake. He was a fighter, a real big fat guy, hard to handle, and I shot
him up good. Too good. But Tony wanted him dead anyway, so he wasn’t too pissed. The other was allergic to the medicine, and it wasn’t my fault. You never know with stuff like this. Shit happens.”
Roll draped another blanket over the sleeping
woman and left the room, heading for the kitchen. With a last lingering look at Carrie, Tyr followed. Roll opened the fridge and, after placing the medicine inside, he grabbed a beer. He downed the entire thing quickly and reached for another. He tossed Tyr one as well.
“May as well relax, she’ll be out for hours now,” Roll informed him.
Tyr cracked the seal and took a healthy swig. Roll pulled out two steaks and pre-wrapped foiled potatoes and headed for the barbeque. When he returned, he sat opposite Tyr.
“You certainly made progress while I was gone,” Roll said casually.
“I told her if she had sex with me I would buy her
from you and set her free,” Tyr explained.
“Well damn, you didn’t take her already, did you?” Roll asked. “That would lower her value.”
“No! I never touched her. I told her she wasn’t
appealing in the condition she was in and I wasn’t going to touch her until she looked better,” Tyr said, offended.
Roll chuckled, relaxing. “I should have known you
would think of something, you smooth talking devil
you.”
“Who are you giving her over to?” Tyr asked.
Roll smiled. “Take it easy. I have a contact that will be very happy to allow her the children she wants. Hell, he’ll even encourage it. Females are much easier to manage when a young one is held over their heads.”
“So her children won’t really be hers,” Tyr said with distress. She had begged and pleaded with him nonstop, telling him most of her history, how lonely and sad she had been. Even though she claimed she cared for her foster parents, she felt they weren’t really hers. How deep down, she was saddened and felt abandoned Will had left her to move so far away.
She'd spoken of how desperately she wanted a
real family and why. How she wanted someone of her own, someone who she could love unconditionally, and someone who wouldn’t discard her. She told him how grateful she was he was saving her. She would give him anything, absolutely anything, for restoring her dream. She had offered undying gratitude.
“I warned you, buddy. Don’t let your compassion
get the best of you. You may be a real hard ass when it comes to the evil, but you’re a marshmallow when it comes to the innocent,” Roll said, and chuckled.
“Your steaks are burning,” Tyr snapped.
Still chuckling, Roll rose from the table to head outside.
* * * *
Carrie lay soaking in a hot tub. She washed carefully at her cuts and scrapes, wincing
as she cleaned her injured hand. When Tyr appeared beside her she remained docile. She leaned forward, not bothering to raise her hands to cover herself as he soaped her back. She had overcome her embarrassment at being nude around him. She knew he was not going to hurt her. Tyr had helped her to the bathroom when she needed to relieve herself. After she had fallen off the toilet, injuring herself, he remained with her the next time she went, hovering and handing her the toilet paper, keeping her upright.
He had carried her back to bed on those
occasions, talking to her with encouraging words. He had washed her face when she vomited and when her clothes were soiled, he removed them and replaced them with more of his own, stroking at her face as she sobbed.
Tyr had scooped her up one day and declared she stunk into her outraged face. She had batted at his hands weakly as he had removed his shirt from her. He remained persistent until she lay completely exposed before him; she had buried her face into his shirt while he lowered her gently into hot, soapy water. He had bathed her himself as one would have a small child.
At first she had been mortified. Her eyes had squeezed closed while she turned her head to the side, as if it wouldn’t really be happening if she
couldn't see him. His hands, so large and strong, were gentle and caring. He painstakingly kept the soap from her eyes as he shampooed her hair.
He had dried her and dressed her before tucking her once more into bed. Repeatedly he had bathed her as the days went by. His hands remained gentle, but as she healed he grew bolder as he washed her. He had soaped her body with experienced hands, roaming ever so delicately over intimate places until her breath had quickened and she had clutched at him in innocent confusion.
Her nipples had hardened to pebbles while his soaped hands glided back and forth in a caress. Her chin had quivered when he ventured lower, watching her carefully as if to make certain she remained willing and not fearful. She had allowed him to once again slide a gentle finger within her and around her, rubbing tenderly until she writhed beneath him, wanting, and needing something. He always stopped short before her yearning body reached any climax.
“Tyr?” “Yes.”
He was moving the cloth over her body in gentle circles. His powerful arms flexed as he lifted one of her legs, soaping a slender thigh. His hand traveled the length of her calf and foot before soaping between her toes.
“Am I still ugly?”
He chuckled down at her. “You were never ugly,
sweetheart, just battered and bruised and sick.” “Will you take me soon?”
She was frightened of his powerful build. The man
towered over her. His body was an impressive size. He was handsome; in fact he was the most beautiful man she had ever set eyes on. She had never met a man like him; just seeing his smile made her heart leap and caused curious sensations to her nether regions. He had also been very careful with her. He had never hurt her or caused her harm. He had never raised his voice to her or threatened her. She felt certain he would take her with compassion and gentleness.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Tyr said a bit tightly.
“Tyr?” “Yes.”
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Carrie asked him.
“No, I haven’t,” he said. He lifted her from the tub and sat her on the toilet to dry her.
She gazed into his eyes. She wondered at his
guarded words; they seemed two-sided. She grew fretful. His jaw clenched tight as though he were angry. She swallowed hard with apprehension. What on earth could he be contemplating?
* * * *
Tyr was beginning to wonder at the game he was playing with her. Roll was right; he was a marshmallow when it came to innocents. Or perhaps it was her baby blue eyes she flashed so
apprehensively at him, eyes now filled with growing concern. Though he had professed to Roll he owned half of her, this was not his line of work. He wished he had never met her. He knew too well what her life would be like.
He had associates and a friend who dabbled in this. When visiting them on occasion, he was given a woman for the night or nights he was there. If they were frightened of him or obviously reluctant, he would refuse them when they began their attempts to arouse him. He knew better than to tell his informants he was not pleased with the woman chosen for him.
In some homes the woman would be beaten; in others, deprived of something. Rarely did he venture back to these homes unless it was absolutely necessary to gather information his organization sought. The thought always sickened him.
He knew he could not save her. Her fate was out of his hands. Even if he did buy her, his own kind would be at risk if he set her free. She might talk. He could frighten her into silence, yet he knew Roll would never allow it. Roll would demand she be placed somewhere she would remain silenced. He would not allow himself to be placed in jeopardy simply because Tyr felt sorry for her. If word were to leak he had offered his aid to a target, he would lose his edge within the organization, his loyalty would be in question by his contacts, and it would definitely
cause a blow to the aid his people sought.
“Tyr, I will do whatever you ask,” Carrie whimpered. She tried to capture his eyes, but he knew better than to cast his glance her way while his troubled thoughts rode wildly through his mind. “I won’t ever tell, I swear.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, knowing she meant
it.
Tyr once more lifted her into his arms and carried
her back to the bed, where he tried to help her dress. She was weeping, trying to bury her head into his chest. He gave up trying to dress her as she remained unhelpful. Instead, her hands trailed over his body, her touch clumsy and awkward. She kissed at his jawline, pulling on him, hoping to encourage him. Her attempts were in desperation.
He remained still as Carrie tried to seduce him.
She was so inexperienced, so young and vulnerable. Her hands shook as she rubbed at his shoulders. Her chin quivered when she kissed him. She tugged on one of his hands, pulling it to her exposed breast. She swore to him she would honor her end of the bargain. She implored him to honor his.
“Please, Tyr,” she pleaded, whimpering up at
him.
Instead of being aroused, Tyr became angry at her desperate, feeble attempts. She was offering herself to him out of terrified desperation. Tyr knew if he were to lay her back she would accept him without
hesitation. She would welcome him and convince herself she would be all right. Even if he took her brutally she would still be submissive, wanting her promised freedom. But the promise was based on a
lie.
She was feeling better now. He understood why Roll had said he might want to drug her when she was feeling whole once more. Not for her, but for him. He wondered if Roll had at one time experienced the same emotion before learning to control it.
With steely resolve, he stilled her hands. He laid
her back onto the bed. He kissed her mouth teasingly, tasting her. She jumped beneath him with shocked surprised as his tongue captured hers for the briefest of moments before leisurely exploring the rest of her sweet mouth. When Tyr pulled away she looked at him in wonder, her pulse quickening at the base of her slender throat. He noted her rapid breathing.
“Have you never been kissed like that before?” he asked.
“No,” she said breathlessly.
Tyr felt saddened. She was so terribly innocent; her naïveté was heartbreaking. She had indeed been saving herself for someone special. Whoever took her would have to be incredibly patient and gentle her first time. Tyr lifted a hand; the backs of his fingers caressed her face.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he encouraged.
Carrie complied immediately. He ran his fingers
over her cheeks. He trailed them down her slender throat to her milk-white breasts. He leaned down and laved at her nipple before suckling until it grew taut. Carrie moaned under him. He rubbed at her shoulders, moving
his hands lower down her arms; his one hand gripped her wrist, pressing it to the bed, as she tried to lift it to pull him closer. He kissed at her belly, teasing her belly button with his tongue.
Slowly, he trailed his way back up her body while
speaking endearing words. Once more he claimed her lips, taking note of her relaxed position...right before he inserted the syringe into her vein. Carrie’s eyes flew open, locking on his.
“Tyr!” she cried out, terrified.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said as the liquid expelled completely.
“Please,” she begged. “Oh no, please don’t. You
promised, you swore on it.”
“You’ll be fine. You will be allowed children,” he soothed.
“Then you keep me. I will do as you say, I swear. I want you! Please, I’m so frightened of the others who will take me. Keep me. I will be good. I will behave. Please keep me...please keep me.”
Tyr pulled a shirt over her head. He laid her back, pondering her plea. He didn’t want to own someone. His hectic lifestyle would not permit it. He couldn’t hand her over to his brother for safekeeping when he needed to be away. His sister-in-law would kill him. If
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