Cursing my bound hands—needing to hold him and offer forgiveness, I inched closer. “Tell me. What were you going to do?”
He laughed suddenly; it was laced with dark disbelief. “That’s the screwed-up thing. I didn’t have a complete plan. I was working on instinct—trying to help you.” His eyes locked onto mine. “I want to fix you.”
My heart softened, weeping at his confession. “You are fixing me. Every day you’re helping by being you. You have to believe in yourself.”
Q muttered something. I didn’t push him to repeat, and the room fell into a hushed silence once again.
Another block of time passed while we sat in our own thoughts.
Q finally said, “No matter how many ideas I chase, they all lead back to one.” Sitting taller, he straightened his shoulders. “If I said I might have a way to stop your nightmares, would you let me do it?” He stared hard, eyes probing deep. “Would you trust me, even though I can’t promise I can control myself? Would you still let me try?”
I didn’t need to contemplate. We both knew we were at the end. There would be no going forward unless we accepted our demons and began working together to abolish them. We’d been kidding ourselves up to this point—believing in a future that didn’t exist.
My voice rang true. “Absolutely.”
Q sighed heavily. “You give me too much, Tess.”
“I’ve given you my soul.” I shrugged to show how little it truly was. “It’s yours, Q, because I’ve taken yours in return.”
His mouth stayed silent, but his eyes let me glimpse just how tortured and savage he truly was. He had a personal vendetta against my nightmares. Whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be conventional, approved, or even safe, but confidence slowly replaced my panic.
If I said yes, it would be exactly as if I’d been taken all over again. Two options: live or die. Survive or give-up.
Q took a deep breath. Unfolding himself from the bed, he stood on long muscular legs, dressed in tailored black. “Tu me fais confiance, esclave?” Do you trust me, esclave?
The question was loaded with so much unsaid. I did trust him. But there was still part of me that feared him.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Q’s hands curled. “Another lie. But if you let me, I’ll turn it into a truth.”
My heart picked up its beat. There would be no turning back. No admitting we’d made a mistake. Just like when Q let me whip him, this would either fix us for good or ruin us forever.
Please…let me survive. Please let Q survive.
“I believe you.”
I wanted to be free of the past. To cut ourselves from the tethers of madness and horror. To start our marriage completely free.
Q’s face tightened with barely concealed rage. “I want to take you back. I want to give you peace. I want us to find each other in our own perfect unsullied darkness.” His eyes glowed with passion. Despite how hard this would be for him, he vowed to set aside his needs purely to fix me.
Regardless if he would be able to do it—I would let him try.
I nodded, ignoring the flash of panic in my heart. I was so fragile. Q had every power to break me for eternity. Break my soul, my mind, splinterize my entire existence.
I hope he does.
My eyes widened.
I hope he smashes everything away.
Maybe Q had the power to eradicate my cracks and fissures—demolishing everything I was in favour of a brand new me—making me blissfully complete.
Q moved, motioning for me to come closer. I used momentum to jump from my knees to feet; my legs cramped from kneeling. My wrists stayed locked together as I traversed the small distance.
The moment I got close, his strong hands landed on my waist. His touch was a threat. His touch was a promise.
His head bowed, lips coming within millimetres of mine. “I’m going to have to make you believe in order to make you free. Do you understand?”
Not really. But I nodded. The freedom of putting myself completely into his control was beautiful.
“Everything I do, even if I lose myself along the way, remember I love you so fucking much. I’m doing this for you. And afterward…I’m going to make you my wife.”
My heart sprouted wings and for a moment I felt like a sparrow escaping a hunter’s net. His promises made me shudder with longing. I wanted that. God, how I wanted that.
Q nuzzled my nose with his, such a sweet gesture—so tame and normal. My stomach twisted into untieable knots. “If there was another way, I’d do it, but I can’t see one. This is our crescent-moon, Tess. It’s more important than any honeymoon; it’s about us fighting our demons, so they don’t taint our future.”
Pulling back, his pale eyes locked with mine, ensnaring me, sending my heart whirling. “You and me. We need this.” His accented voice was hoarse and impassioned and swept up with promises. Q was right.
We needed this.
More than we knew.
“I’m yours for however long you need, maître.”
He chuckled softly. “You’re mine for eternity, esclave. But the next few days belong to putting our monsters to rest.”
He pulled away, holding up his hand. Wrapped in his fingers was a black length of fabric. His eyebrow rose as he dangled the blindfold. “Ready?”
No.
Yes.
I don’t know.
I sucked in a breath.
I nodded.
Permission granted.
Q attacked me.
I never knew how Q got me out of the hotel without rousing suspicion. I never knew if he wrapped me in a sheet or dressed me in clothes or carried me out naked. I would never find out how he orchestrated something so terrible all in the name of love.
All I knew was horror.
Cold, aching, howling horror.
He’d told the truth about making me believe. The moment he launched, I forgot everything we’d just agreed and drowned. Drowned in fear, memories, the horrible past.
I couldn’t stop from fighting.
I was incapacitated from fighting.
Q gave himself over to his monsters, embracing the role of kidnapper. We stepped into our nightmares, letting them swallow us whole.
“Stop squirming and I won’t hurt you,” he hissed in my ear, sounding entirely swallowed by darkness.
I tried to reply but he stuffed a gag into my mouth, obliterating my cries.
My mind jumped into insanity. My lungs grasped for useless air.
Together we spiralled into a void.
The tower I’d knocked down so many times shot into formation, giving me no choice but to step aside and let the large, circular prison segment my mind. It crumbled upright, reversing its demise to rise from the dust of its foundations, soaring high.
Q’s fingers wrapped around my throat, clutching my windpipe.
The tower beckoned, waving flags of safety, serenity. No!
Q squeezed, accelerating my hyperventilation.
The need to hide was an unbearable call. The single door in the tower swung wide, hinting at solitude and silence.
I took a step toward sanctuary. Toward temptation. I wanted to shut off completely.
Q was no longer my master. He was my nightmare.
His lips descended on my ear, delivering the final blow. “Welcome to my kingdom. I’m going to make you scream.”
My mind raced for the tower, but it was too late.
Q’s fingers cut off my air. Black spots danced, blending with the blindfold. My vision succumbed and I surrendered to the dark.
I woke in my kidnapper’s arms.
Gagged, bound, and blindfolded, the only sense I had available was hearing. Wet slaps of an ocean in the distance, chirps of waking birds, the rustle of tussock, and crunch of gravel. Q’s arms stayed locked around me, keeping me floating above the ground.
My tower loomed fully erect in my mind, waiting solemnly for me to return to its unfeeling hub. The temptation was strong, but Q’s sleek muscles moved against my si
de, rocking me with every step. I made a promise to him. A promise that I would never shut him out again—no matter what happened.
I intend to keep that promise.
My skin prickled with a chilly sea breeze, but only on my arms and ankles. I’d been bundled into something warm—fluffy. The blindfold hid any hope of seeing where we were and the gag halted my questions. Panic existed like liquid fear pumping thick in my blood.
“You’re ours now, puta.”
I cringed at the memory. No matter what Q did to make me whole again, I had to remember one thing. One fundamental crucial thing. This was Q. The man I loved with every fibre. He wouldn’t sell me, rape me, or break my mind with drugs.
Are you sure?
My heart raced as the outside world suddenly changed to muffled and hushed. The heavy weight of a building I couldn’t see wrapped around us, masking Q’s footsteps with a thick carpet.
In my mind I tried to visualise a quaint home where only softness and healing existed but I couldn’t avoid the more likely scenario of pain and fear. Room after room we travelled, Q’s body heat both relaxing and scaring me. His arms and stomach tensed, carrying me down a flight of stairs. The air temperature was cooler as we descended. It felt heavier down here, as if the weight of the unseen building was a tomb.
More muffled footsteps. I lost touch with common-sense. I hovered as if by magic. Then Q’s shoes echoed on tiles, coming to a stop in a room smelling faintly of juniper.
I gasped as Q released his hold, swinging my legs downward to connect with textured flooring. My feet were bare, toes digging into the rough tiles like an anchor. The fluffy warmth around me tickled my legs as it shifted with my body.
Not saying a word, Q grabbed my bound wrists, undoing the tight material holding them pinned. I ached for connection. I wanted a hug, a whisper, something to keep my fear at bay. I needed reminding of his love and the reasons why we were doing something so utterly dangerous.
But I got nothing.
He hoisted my arms upward, securing them onto some sort of apparatus from the ceiling. My lungs strained, breathing hard through my nose. The helplessness of hanging—gagged, blindfolded, and completely at his mercy—sent a flurry of bricks toward me, forming into a path, leading to my tower.
No. I’m strong enough.
Every muscle tensed, waiting for a whip or some horrible pain, but Q drifted away. No sound. No body heat. His presence fading into the ether.
The tower became my enemy rather than friend—beckoning too hard, filling my mind with the need to run.
Step inside and no longer care. Step inside and hide.
I squeezed my eyes, fighting the seduction. I had to be strong enough. I was strong enough. Q asked me to trust him—I wouldn’t run. I was done running.
Seconds ticked on without me; I didn’t know how long I stood there. Time played tricks with me, delivering false memories of Rio and Mexico. White Man had never been my capturer—it had been Q all along. Q drugged me. He beat me.
I clamped down on the gag, forcing myself to chase away the lies. I focused instead on the iciness of my hands from lack of blood and the unrelenting ache in my shoulders from being trussed. I wanted to sit. I wanted to roll my spine and stretch. But all I could do was hang and wait like an animal headed to slaughter.
Harsh fingers touched my cheek.
I jolted, cursing my heart cannonballing around my chest. Q undid the gag, pulling it free from my mouth. I groaned in relief, wiggling my jaw, lubricating my dry tongue with saliva.
His fingers clamped around my chin, pressing against my lips. “Take this.”
I stiffened, trying to move my face from his probing fingers. My eyes remained veiled by the blindfold; I yearned for sight. I needed to know where we were. I needed to latch onto Q and know I wasn’t alone.
The pressure on my lips came again, demanding. “Take it,” he snapped.
My stomach somersaulted. He’s trying to drug you. Just like them.
My hands clenched and I repelled away. “No. What are you—”
“Don’t speak. You’re not allowed to speak.” Two fingers entered my mouth by force. The taste of salt and citrus shot right to my heart. This was so wrong.
My teeth ached to bite. To sever the invasion before my mind could turn against Q. I was wrong when I said I was strong enough. I wasn’t. I wanted nothing to taint my love for him—and this—this would murder everything I’d tried so hard to retain. “Stop. This is a mistak—”
Q’s touch turned from harsh to brutal, placing something acidic and foreign on my tongue. “Swallow.”
Tears stung my eyes; I fought in his grip, shaking my head violently.
Never again did I want the fog of hallucinogenics or mind-twisting chemicals. What the hell is he thinking? He knew how bad my withdrawals were. He’d seen how hard it was for me to crawl out of the smog.
Q breathed hard in my ear, muttering in French, cursing in a stream of anger. His arm wrapped around my thrashing body, tilting my head back. His hand came under my jaw, clamping it shut. “Swallow!”
I whimpered, soaking the blindfold in gushing tears.
“Do it or I’ll hurt you.”
My heart pounded; the tower no longer needed to beckon—I inched closer on my own. Fear drove me forward. The horror at being forced to take something that would remove all my mental power.
It would all disappear the moment I stepped inside.
Oh, God. What the hell were we doing? We were tempting fate—waving an invitation at everything we ran from—enticing horror into our lives.
I stood trembling, disobeying. The acidic pill slowly dissolved on my tongue, making me nauseous. I would let Q do anything but drug me. Anything else but that.
Q sighed. The anger in his voice faded to grief, shedding the theatrics, showing the actor beneath. He kissed my ear with incredible softness. “I need you to take it. It’s nothing strong—it will last an hour or two, max.” His tongue swirled around my lobe making my terror-laden body warm and begin to thaw. “Please, Tess.”
I moaned, shaking my head, trying to free my chin free so I could talk. I didn’t want to swallow. I had to make him see how terrified I was of drugs.
His fingers wouldn’t let me go, letting the pill dissolve even further. “You have to believe in order for me to bring you back. Remember?” he murmured. “I won’t be able to help you if you know it’s me. It will ruin both of us. Please…you’ll be safe. Je promets.” I promise.
I shook my head for the fiftieth time, my eyes wild and damp beneath the blindfold. All method of communication had been stolen. I couldn’t appeal or argue. Q held me firm, fully intending to shove me head first into a chasm of horror.
Swift panic shot through my body.
Q’s right. No matter how much I loved him I would end up hating him for this. I wouldn’t be able to stop the connection between him and my past.
I shuddered, acknowledging the truth. I had to go back. Completely. Truly. There was no faking this. No cutting corners. And I couldn’t know it was him driving me deeper.
With a groan of sorrow, I swallowed.
“Good girl,” Q whispered. He paced around me, his fingertips dragging around my neck. Stopping in front again, his hand slid into the material I wore, cupping my breast. “We probably have about fifteen minutes before that takes you away from me.”
I jerked, testing the ceiling restraints. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want pain. If he raised a whip or paddle, I wouldn’t have the strength not to enter my tower. And once I stepped inside—I wasn’t coming out. I wouldn’t be able to.
Q spread the front of the gown open, his hot breath tickling my skin. “Fuck you look incredible, esclave.”
I sucked in a harsh breath as his mouth descended on my nipple. His arms came around, dragging me close. Every ripple of muscle and sweep of his tongue sent a jagged bolt of passion into my core. My body reacted instantaneously, knowing any moment everything I knew would be stolen from me.
After what happened, I wanted his touch. I needed to feel. To be soothed and assured that whatever stupidity we were about to do wouldn’t hurt us. We’re doing it for the right reasons.
Q’s mouth was hot, wet, full of sinful fire. Everywhere he touched seemed amplified—my mind making it intense and visceral. I arched into him, pressing my flesh further into his mouth.
He groaned, licking, sucking. His arm clenched hard, possessing me completely.
When will it affect me?
I bit my lip as Q nibbled gently, his mouth trailing from my nipple up to my throat. His teeth grazed over my tingling skin. “You’re all mine. Completely at my mercy.” His voice layered with husky lust.
My eyes popped wide as a new fear rose. Was he strong enough? Would he be able to break my chains and not lose himself in the process?
Q hugged my tense body, sensing the reason for my panic. Planting a kiss on the ‘Q’ branded into my neck, he murmured, “I have it under control. When it takes you, don’t fight. I’ll keep you safe.”
My breath caught. There’d been another time when he said I was safe. At his office. With his birds on top of the world. He lied.
My heart skipped; a rush of sickness raced in my blood.
Is it affecting me?
My mouth went dry. I smacked my lips, trying to lubricate my throat to speak. “Q—” I croaked.
I moaned as Q undid the cord around my waist, spreading the fluffy material wrapped around my body. He sucked in a harsh breath, ragged passion echoing in the sound. I stiffened as his fingers trickled from my cleavage and down my stomach. “Do you have any concept of how much I miss the woman I fell in love with?”
My heart squeezed at the sadness in his voice.
His fingers kissed my ribcage, stroking so soft it was almost a tickle. “I miss your fire.” His touch dropped a little, flaring over my hips. “I miss your strength.” His fingertips turned inward, tracing my lower belly, brushing through the trimmed hair between my legs. “I miss you taunting me.”
His scent of sandalwood and citrus drugged me far more effective than anything he’d given. I willingly gave myself to the heady combination. Q owned all my senses now. Not just my sense of touch, taste, sound, and sight but also my instincts, obedience, and trust.
Twisted Together Page 15