by JR King
A gasp of surprise on my lips, I turned my head to look up at my ex-boyfriend. His half-masked, sun-worn face betrayed nothing. “Jax?”
“Ellie.”
I flinched at hearing the rough sound of my nickname. Jax had a few-days stubble, his arched nose that was dusted with freckles hidden beneath a Domino mask. His dark hair had a neat buzz cut and the blue of his eyes reminded me of my own. “It’s really you.”
Cautiously, he came closer. Bemused by his presence, by the sudden turn of events, for every one of his steps forward, I took two in reverse. He seemed taller and more muscular than before. “I was hoping I’d have you to myself at some point this evening. You don’t look well. He’s made you miserable, hasn’t he? Turners are relentless bastards, Elena. Stay away from that family.”
Dicey situation, I didn’t know what to say to that. And, the sexual tension between us was still there, so dense that it became hard to breathe. It was nothing like I felt with Alexander. Nothing more than a light shade of that, but it was there nonetheless.
“Why’d you retreat here?”
“It’s nothing.” I swallowed.
“Hold your horses,” the intensity of his gaze burned through me, “did he do this to you?”
Swiveling my head, I looked at the patio doors.
Before I could even attempt to escape, Jax lunged forward and caught me by the arms, startling me. Although his aggressive reaction shocked me, it didn’t fuel panic within me because I knew how safe his arms were.
“You owe me an explanation,” he bit out. “What a sick pantomime, all that Vanity Fair bullshit. Did he pressure you to do the interview? Why’d you come out? It was to protect him from some scandal, wasn’t it?”
Pressured me? Alexander was ready to expose himself just to protect me! “Live or die free, Jax. Someone was after me. I chose to strike first.” Solely, Alexander had humiliated me tonight; I could do the same to him. Instead of elaborating the explanation, I pictured the blonde woman and that sexy way she’d tossed her hair, and did the same. Careful to retain my precious balance, my hips swayed as I took a bouncy step toward Jax. “Why are you in Boston?” I murmured, my voice mellow and seductive.
“Why do you think I’m in this cold pit cave?”
On impulse, I reached for his lapel and pulled him closer, my eyes never leaving the ever-widening brilliance of his azure gaze. “You were the one who left.”
I was surprised to see an arrested look on his face. I licked my lips nervously on purpose, and saw his eyes taking on a warm look before they dropped to my mouth. His eyes flew back up to mine, and narrowed. He remained still, like someone waiting with bated breath.
My courage ran out, and I tensed. What was he waiting for? On the one hand, I wanted Alexander to see us, but on the other hand, I found myself in a precariously shitty position.
Jax rested his hand on my shoulder in peremptory manner. There was something indecipherable in his eyes. Not amusement, a ghost of regret maybe. “I never wanted to leave you, Elena.”
I was getting ready to spew out every curse word I knew when hot lips met mine. He took my mouth with his own. It was a shock to be so close to another man. I tried to pull back, but Jax didn’t allow it. By the time I registered what was happening, he tugged me closer to his hard body and tightened his grip around my waist. I couldn’t move away. I couldn’t push him away, and for a short span of time, I didn’t want to.
Stiff and unresponsive at first, I flattened my hands on his chest and tilted my head to him. I kissed him back because the attraction was still there, and it soothed the pain in my heart. His tongue sought and gained entrance, his lips firm but surprisingly warm and tantalizing. I found myself relaxing and enjoying the embrace.
His scent was a mixture of cool air and pure male, and his hands on my waist were hot and soft, his grip wasn’t too tight or forceful. He tasted like bourbon, a little raw, a little sweet, kicking my adrenaline into overdrive faster than alcohol. I hadn’t expected to enjoy being close to him, but the scent, feel, and taste of Jax was unique and familiar in very intimate ways. He was neither rough nor particularly gentle, he just kissed me with the strength and sureness of a man who knew what he wanted. As my lips softened and responded with growing fervor, his one hand cupped the back of my neck and the other dragged over the side of my face.
I half-closed my eyes and stared through drooping eyelids at him. The cadence of his breathing and the taste of his mouth brought back how good we’d been together. In the end, it didn’t matter that he still affected me. Didn’t matter that we had a history, however wonderful and magical it was. Didn’t matter that he’d taught me how to feel safe around men, how to make love, how to climax, how to enjoy dirty sex without feeling guilty. None of that mattered because I was madly in love with Alexander, and he was the only man I wanted. Even though a puddle of fear began forming in my chest, the adrenaline kept me from irrationally continuing the kiss.
Seconds later, I heard a door open, and when it slammed shut, I gulped in fear. Saved by whom?
Hard footsteps approached.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Alexander spat harshly. I retreated as he advanced on us, yelping a little. He stared at me angrily, sweeping up and down. “Really? This righteous bullshit is wearing thin.” His eyes held mine. The darkness and uncaged, canine anger in them made me take a step back.
He turned his attention to Jax. “Go inside.” I wasn’t sure whom he was talking to.
Jax looked back at me. “You don’t have to listen to him.”
I allowed myself a moment to get lost in his blazing sapphire stare. Given the predatory gleam in them, his voice was deceptively mellow.
Alexander grabbed his arm, and shoved him against the wall. “You punk-ass bitch! You like kissing other men’s girlfriends? You fucking piece of shit!” he bellowed.
Jax remained firmly on his feet. “I guess only the ones who are alone and sad. Dude, you must really be lame in the sack.” He gave a short laugh.
“Have some decency, Jax,” I yelled, my tone reproving. Both men were tarred with the same brush.
“Elena.” Eyes fastened on mine as he addressed me, Alexander spoke through gritted teeth, as though he was so disgusted by me that he could hardly bring himself to string words together. “Go inside.”
To my own credit, I reacted quickly. “I take it that I’ve vexed you. We need to talk.”
“Talk?” The sinews of his neck standing out against his skin indicated he didn’t favor the idea.
He swung at Jax. I let out a long, loud, unbroken shout. The two began fighting so quickly I wasn’t sure who threw the first punch. I inched toward them, trying to stop them without getting struck. I screamed and pleaded. Even my blood-curdling cries fell on deaf ears. It sounded like I was underwater, everything around me moving in slow motion. They shouted things I couldn’t understand. It was plain ugly.
My heart thumped fast as I shouted at the top of my voice one last time.
Tony came.
And Aidan.
Michael firmly pulled me to him. Legs quivering, I was afraid I’d crumple, but he solved the problem by thrusting a hard thigh between my legs, trapping me against him. “It’s nothing, El. These things happen.” I was dependent on his hold or else I would have fallen. He tipped my chin up, and pressed his lips against my cheek, vacuuming my tears. “Don’t look.” His tone was soft and sweet, and that gave me the strength to go on.
Jax fell on his sword when confronted by security. He was removed from the property because he’d used someone else’s identity to attend the ball. Aidan and Tony tried calming Alexander down while Michael and Sara assured me that everything was fine. The way all our friends looked at me could be best described as; the word resounding in my mind was pity, a word that together with many profanities teetered on the edge of my lips. Of course I was smart enough to know that there’s a distinguishable line between pity and compassion. To my mind, both words were mashed toge
ther.
Eventually, it all deflated, and we said our goodbyes. In the Bentley, every now and then I looked over at Alexander, hoping for some sign he was okay. I never received one. Suddenly, he stretched his arm along the back of the car seat and wound his fingers through my hair. Trapping the strands, he pulled my head back. I closed my eyes and parted my lips, breathing in short bursts of air.
“Look at me.”
Fluttering open, my eyes flicked back to him. I invoked all of my willpower to keep myself from crying. “I’m sorry, Alex.”
I froze as his cold fingertips traced the edges of my corset. “You’ll be sorry when I’m done,” he said cruelly, tightening his hold on my head. “Why, Elena?”
Exasperation flashed in his eyes at the observation of defiance in mine. I wasn’t going to apologize, not even to save my life. I expelled all the air my chest had harbored in a long, loud whine. “Who cares why? It just happened.”
“I care. I fucking care. I hated seeing you with him. I hated my friends telling me to not make a big deal about Jax. I hated everyone tonight, especially you. Mostly you.” My body began to rack with shivers. When he spoke again, they suspended for the briefest of moments. “I’m at a loss at what to do here. I’ve gone over different possibilities since I walked in on you. I’m not going to lie, some of them involve a sharp knife and a gun. I’m still iffy on it, though.”
And so it began.
Elena Anderson
The Monster You Know
Adrift in penitence, a bit later, I spied the mansion ahead, lit up like a beacon. I didn’t want to leave the car. Sitting here, I was blissfully ignorant.
“Elena?” Hamilton prodded me again, a little more fervently, wasting no words. “Go inside. Alexander is taking a breather.”
I got myself together and picked up my quilted calfskin Chanel bag, handed him my stole and the masks, and stepped out of the car. I couldn’t say I was indifferent. My knees shook, my heartbeat had sped up, my breath fell short. Nevertheless, I had to face my boyfriend. Had to face what I’d done, face my punishment, and live with the consequences of my actions.
I headed to the front doors.
Expectedly, a little bit of hell broke loose when I set foot inside. Stepping unsteadily toward the staircase, before I could reach it, a hand caught my wrist and another one locked around my waist. I felt a damnable thrill as my feet left the floor, which turned to brief panic as I found myself hurtling in the direction of an armchair. I was in too deep. This was the first time Alexander had tossed me onto a piece of furniture. Not that I feared I’d leave the house on a gurney. I knew how to stop him. But this is what you’ll never get—what I didn’t get even, the idea of running away never crossed my mind.
I caught myself by planting my hands on the armrests. Subsequently, they were seized, a forceful grip yanking my body upward. Steely grey eyes burned into mine. “Venetian masks are confusing, aren’t they?” The muscle in his jaw twitched, and I noticed that the strain in his neck was far greater than other times. He transferred his hold from my wrists to the back of my neck. Cruel, bruising fingers dug into the sides of my throat. As he established his grip, a single strand of hair that was ensnared in it snapped. “You thought he was me and were rationally disappointed it was him?”
I knew when not to argue with him.
The game commenced, and a flame of excitement lit in my chest, hissing through it. Alexander grasped my upper arm and dragged me along, making me run beside him. My heels clicked in an unreconstructed melody on the marble tiles. Past several doors we went, through the foyer, through the living area, past the den, up the stairs, until we reached the bedroom. I winced as his hand reached for the back of my head, his fingers twisting and pulling my hair. He pulled me toward him and I followed weakly, fearful of the impending punishment.
“You fucking cunt! You lying sack of shit! Of all the prestigious events we attended together, you chose to belittle me at this one? The one that’s dear to my heart? The one where I danced with you for the first time?”
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed shakily. I had to appeal to his gentle side, but his anger worked like an endless vacuum, sucking in all the good that was left in him. “Ace, you have to listen to me.”
“Listen word for word to your lies?” I opened my mouth to respond—to deny, but he yanked my hair and practically dragged me to the bed. “Damn, what a fool I am.”
Knowing him, I planned on needless pain, and squealed in fear. I shook away the thought. He wouldn’t harm me.
Doubt began to fill my heart when he pushed me, causing me to lose my balance and fall on the bed. It hurt my back, but I was more preoccupied with him as he moved in on me. It looked like he was going to hurt me.
“Don’t,” I keened, trying to wiggle away, but he placed his hands on either side of my face with a loud thud. Trapped between his arms, unable to escape his gaze, I prayed for my life. “Please don’t hurt me, Alex.” He was furnace-hot, his body rock solid.
“Hurt you unnecessarily? I see your episodic memory is fully intact. Must be the semantic one that isn’t properly functioning.”
“W-what are you going to do?” I stammered fearfully.
He fumed silently for another moment, his expression ever frightening. Then he smiled, and I gulped down a sob. “First, I’m going to fuck you, whore.”
*
I pushed my corset up and fussed with my chest. A frown marred Alexander’s brow as he looked at me with a cold look I knew oh so well.
“Strip for me. Like the slut you are, I’ll pay you good money. I’m very rich,” he told me urgently, and with little caustic edge.
Having no sensuousness left in me, I stood frozen.
He smirked at the pitiful look on my face. “Oh wait. There’s more.” He reached for the remote control of the Bose dock, powered it and scrolled down a selection. “Before I forget. Music.” He looked at me sideways, a quirky, self-effacing grin gracing his face. A seductive, swaying tempo filled the room. Robin Thicke. I looked at the man in front of me, a complete stranger. “Move it, whore.”
Even though I was smiling more assuredly, willing a sparkle in my eyes, his tone disheartened me. Tears began to gather at the corners of my eyes. “I’m not a whore.”
He looked startled, and I was surprised at that. He stared into my eyes, anger draining from his face. I wondered if what I thought I saw on his face was really there. Had I rendered him speechless during a few beats of a heart or was he in a semiotic daze? He ran his hands through his hair, his biceps bulging with the pose.
When he stepped toward me, haltingly I backed away, blinking to rid myself of the moisture dampening my eyelashes. I held up a vanity cushion as a shield between the two of us. He grabbed it and lobbed it over his shoulder, the muscle in his jaw pulsing madly. “This is the easy way out, Elena. Don’t be such a fucking cunt. You don’t want me to become a monster, do you now?”
“I’d rather deal with a monster than a coward who’s calling me a whore!”
He shot me a dirty look. “Tough way out it is then, bitch.”
My body froze and he nearly smiled.
He slapped my face and I flinched backward, putting my hand on the flushed skin.
“See,” he gave a slow rasp. I noticed that the vein of his left temple was throbbing. “I wanted to do that since I saw you sucking face with that loser, but I kept trying to talk myself out of it. I managed it well, and found an alternative. A bit similar to a contingency agreed upon in a business contract.”
I looked into the Delphian depths of his darkened eyes. “I’m not a whore. Don’t treat me like one.”
He bent and fiercely nipped my chin. His mouth went down the side of my neck, sucking and biting and licking.
Mindlessly, my body bucked against him. I felt his hardness nudge me, and just like my tears, my willpower evaporated.
“Poor little Elena. Think I’m going to let you do this to me? Think you can just use me when it suits you? Think you can pl
ay me like this? Who the fuck do you think I am? Life is so difficult for pretty girl as she dons her designer dresses, her hair perfectly coiffed by a stylist, her makeup neatly applied by a beautician. I’m brainstorming here, do you feel strongly about driving to the bad side of town so you can see what you and your grandparents’ life could be like in a cookie-cutter neighborhood, or do you feel strongly against it?”
I drew back with a gasp, shutting my eyes. “Get it over with…,” my voice hitched, “whatever you’re gonna do, just do it.”
His face was inches away from mine as his hand locked around my throat. “You want him, don’t you?” he growled. He shook me, slamming my head against his chest so he could speak into my ear. “You will have to make do with my cock, you lying piece of shit.”
How could I be lying if he hadn’t given me the chance to answer his question? I tried to worm my neck free, clutching at his arm, but his grip tightened until I felt the blood thudding against my eardrums. Grave panic hit me when I couldn’t get a proper breath. Couldn’t think of how to get it. I clawed at his arm, at his wrist, trying to make him reconsider. My lungs were burning, my chest heaving and yearning for air, and just as my vision started to darken and I was positive I was going to faint, he let go.
“Beautiful bitch,” he snarled, his hand wrapping around my neck once again. Unable to choke out a retort, I hoped the remorseful look in my eyes spoke volumes. I struggled to pry his fingers from around my strained neck. Finally loosening his grip on my throat, he smacked a swift backhand across my face, causing me to cry out sharply.
My entire frame shook with rage, but he raised his hand as if ready to hit me again if I dared uttering a syllable. I couldn’t hear whether he screamed or cursed. All I could hear was the rush of blood through my veins, the throbbing of my temples, the pounding of my steps against the floor. “Why, Elena?” he exploded, throwing a gigantic chalcedony vase against the wall, the speed and ferocity of his move stopping my breath. I watched it shatter into hundreds, thousands of shards.