Constricted: Beyond the Brothel Walls (5 page)

“No, this is reality.” I hated that he read my thoughts. “The deal was for a woman to love you … not the other way around.”

Hestin’s laughter filled the room. Perhaps that was always his plan. To drive me mad for eternity, force me to question everything. As for love, yes, I loved her more than any other woman I’d met in my three hundred years. More than Jules, but more than love, I respected her. If I had stolen her away four years ago, I would have waited.

“Immortality suits her; she’ll face it here or in hell.”

“She is pure,” I said louder than I anticipated. “Hell is for sinners, damned souls, and demons.”

“She is a whore named after the Goddess of whores. Her mouth and ass have seen more action than our pricks combined. There is no place in heaven for whores. Cut her loose; she isn’t going to save you.” With those words trailing, he disappeared.

I let his words sink in and stepped back into the shower. Images of the fat bastard they’d called Uncle Jules flashed through my mind and my stomach heaved. Blood splattered against the white tile, tinting everything pink. Oh, he would pay and as God was my witness, I’d make him suffer. For Korrigan, I would end his existence. My eyes narrowed as the pink puke swirled down the drain. All I needed was to figure out how to murder a demon.

The last of the blood-tainted water washed down the drain, and I stepped from the shower. There wasn’t any sign of Hestin, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t want him to ruin this evening or my increasing better mood. Honey and vanilla, I already smelled her on my skin as if she belonged there. My hands worked quickly, first relieving the tension she’d built within me, and then dressing in a black suit, with a grey shirt, and a black tie. My hair, I slicked back into my collar.

Her heels clicked over the hardwood floor, and I turned, sucking in my breath as she stepped into my room. A long sleeved, silvery lavender dress hugged her fragile frame, and her dark hair spilled down her back in spiral waves. What stunned me the most was her smile. Warm and real, not forced or fake, and I returned the gesture. “See, now you’re even more beautiful.”

I took her hand and kissed it, watching the blush deepen in her cheeks. “You look charming,” she whispered as her eyes darted down. There was a gap between us, and I closed it. Hestin was wrong. Everything about this woman felt right.

My lips brushed over hers, hovering as the electricity grew between us. “Do you mind me kissing you?”

Korrigan shook her head. “I’m no good at it.”

Her hands curled into mine. “Then we’ll have to practice.” I leaned down again and nibbled on her bottom lip. “But I think you’re perfect. Do you enjoy it when I kiss you?” My lips trailed over her jaw as she gasped. I chuckled against her scented skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Her pulse throbbed against my lips just like another area of my body. The rhythm matched, creating its own music, but the crescendo would not occur tonight. “If I do something –anything- you don’t like, I expect you to tell me, Korrigan.” I cupped her face and kissed her again. “I mean it.”

“Okay,” she said, grabbing my lapel and kissing my cheek. We were off to a much better start, but six lengthy months remained for me to win her heart. Hestin’s words were futile. An angel smiled upon me, my personal savior, and I would prove him wrong. “Petre?”

“Hmm?” I said pressing my lips together. She stared down at her hands.

“Can you not call me that.”

Chapter Five

I
asked him to call me Korri as I’d done with Mellissa. Petre chuckled, and I spun toward the doorway. My feet refused to budge as my heart pounded louder in my ears. Asking for something, anything, was new to me. Should I have added a please? My brow scrunched, and I smoothed my hands over the soft dress. The palms of my hands grew damp and sticky the longer Petre took to respond.

The name, my name, I hated it. Every time I heard the word, it served as another reminder of Jules. I wanted to erase all traces of him from my new life. Mellissa helped with removing my shameful marks. She even said Jules lied about the dye, and that we’d buy some tomorrow to remove them forever. Tonight she’d made talc and mixed it with pigment to cover them again. She even helped with my hair and makeup. I hadn’t recognized the girl in the mirror, but I liked her. And I appreciated Mellissa even more. Petre stepped closer; his coolness rushed over me like a breeze.

“Sweetness, honey, baby … no, not that one. It’ll come to me, but,” he whispered against my neck.“Why a new name?”

His hands brushed over my sides as his lips grazed over my exposed neck. I didn’t want to lay myself out there for him to pick apart. Petre hummed, and I yearned to lean myself against him
. Not yet
, I wanted to get to know him, and feel this out before the walls came down. But he made it difficult; that kiss refused to leave my mind, and my body droned with its energy. Those lips of his were lethal weapons, and I hated how they’d affected me so much. My body wanted him, but my mind –thank God- kept the brakes on.

“Korri?”

“Tell me about where you’re from,” I asked, deflecting his question and squirming out of his grasp. “On the way, please, I’m starving.”

The smile twitched over his lips, and he held out his hand. “What do you want to know?”

I took my time down the stairs. Even the heels were alien to my tiny feet. “Everything, anything, I want to know about you since you know much about me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know that much, sweets.” Petre shook his head as we descended the stairs. “No, that doesn’t work either.”

I agreed. They all sounded too much like Jules. “What about something in your language?”

“Dragă iubita mea,” he said. “My beloved honey in Romanian, but I don’t speak it often anymore since moving to Nova Scotia. Here they speak English, Scottish Gaelic, and even some French.”

Mellissa handed me my coat when we reached the bottom stairs, but I noted right away the jacket wasn’t mine. “Try it on,” she said holding it out for me. I eyed it up and glanced down. This was something I wasn’t used to. No one gave me gifts. “It tis my daughter’s, but she left it here.”

I slipped my arms through and found that the coat fit rather well. The sleeves weren’t long, and the fabric framed my body, without the added bulk. It was warm too and free of moth holes. Next, she handed me a scarf and gloves as she winked at Petre.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll take good care of it.”

“Happy Birthday,” I thought I’d heard her whisper.

After the door had closed, I watched him closely. I glanced over my shoulder as his arm hooked into mine. There was a sense of joy flushing through me, and I couldn’t quite place it. To me this was just another day, another year closer to my impending doom, and I spent the majority of the day alone. Some people didn’t like being alone, but I disagreed. My comfort in life was in the safety of loneliness. As long as I remained alone, no one hurt me.

Petre opened the passenger door of a black car. “What’s wrong?”

The chilled air cut through me like a knife, but it wasn’t from the temperature. No, I wasn’t sure what caused my hair to stand up, or the goosebumps to erupt. My breath sucked in as I took my seat, forcing a smile over my lips, and hiding the shake of my hands. His eyebrow rose, and I knew he was waiting for me to explain. I couldn’t relay what I didn’t understand. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Nerves maybe.”

A slow smile spread over his face as he reached across me to buckle my seatbelt. After it clicked, Petre turned to me and cupped my cheek. “You are a jewel,” he said, but his face held pain. “My precious gem, sparkling on the inside. Don’t lose that.”

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but his lips covered mine. Despite the chill, I reached for him, feeling the smoothness of his jaw in my palms as I held onto his face. Damn those lips, I thought as they parted, and his tongue slipped into my mouth. Heat exploded in my belly, quickly rising into my cheeks. The best birthday present was Petre, and for the moment, I didn’t care why he chose me.

W
e arrived at the quaint restaurant about twenty minutes later. Nestled into a row of shops, the gas powered lights flickered down the sidewalk and over the restaurant’s windows. Ladies and men walked hand in hand, engaged with each other as if the world wasn’t such a terrible place. Maybe someday, Petre and I could do the same. Perhaps I’d even forget my past. Doubtful, but I hoped whatever happened between the two of us was for the better.

Our drive itself was rather short, but neither of us had wanted to stop kissing. I even allowed my hands to travel, breaking through his jacket, and skimming over the hard ridges hiding beneath his shirt. But that warmth receded as another emotion washed over me.
Trepidation,
he’d called it, but I didn’t know what he meant. I tried everything to not leave his car, but Petre threatened to carry me in over his shoulder. A joke, but his gaze told me he would do it in a heartbeat. I laughed, and his smile widened.

“Remember, you are safe now,” he said, and I wanted nothing more than to believe his words. There was energy in the air though, and I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it made my stomach hurt. When a particular wicked man used to visit the house, I’d suffered a similar sensation. Nothing terrible ever happened when he came through, but I still hid away. Even the sight of his icy eyes bluer than the clearest sky had made me run for cover. On those days, I was thankful that I belonged to Uncle because he too had tried to purchase me; it made me wonder how Petre managed it.

A smile forced over my lips as we entered the restaurant. I took a deep breath, as the scent of food registered in my brain. I’d died and gone to heaven; he noticed, grinning from ear to ear as he kissed my cheek. “See,” he said, dropping my hand.

My eyes wandered, ignoring the goggled glare of the man talking with Petre. Flickering gaslights hung on the walls, and oil lamps sat on each table. The walls displayed painted artwork, depicting landscape scenes from various places. Beautiful but they didn’t fit the other décor, or the relaxed blue and yellow gingham cloth covering the white tables.
French country
, the word appeared in my mind, and I shook my head wondering where it came from.

The air shifted, and I shivered, turning my attention back to Petre. With it, I noticed the goggled man and his short, light brown hair. Even through the tinted lenses, I could tell his dark eyes were trained on me. Yet he seemed familiar, or perhaps he knew what I was. The thought left me naked without my usual attire. The man standing at the podium eyed me up and down again, and I glanced away as my heartbeat quickened. My fingers, I tucked away into my coat pockets as Petre confirmed our reservation, chuckling as if they were pals.

The place was empty though, and I didn’t quite understand why we needed one at all. They continued to talk as I let my eyes skim over the surroundings again. French country, if this was the style, held a sense of charm to it without appearing flashy.
Yes, keep your thoughts on the décor
, I chided myself. Anything to ignore the intense eyes of the light-haired man, in his buckled suit and odd necktie.

Who was I to judge a person’s wardrobe? This was my first time in a restaurant, my first time out in public without my suffocating and degrading corset too. Still, it was a part of me that was familiar, and I kept clutching at my breast hoping to find the smooth satin and dainty, worn ribbons. Instead, soft velvet brushed my fingertips, and the cold chain of the pendant Mellissa allowed me to borrow.

“Korri,” Petre whispered as I stepped away to eye a painting. “Our table’s ready, doll.”

His hand curled around my arm, and he led us to a table in the center of the dining room. The light-haired man pulled out my chair as Petre took my coat. I muttered thanks, unsure of why he was hovering near my chair. As I sat, he pushed it forward and let out a little squeak.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” he said, with an odd accent, and staring a bit too long. Was he searching for my binds too? Self-consciously, my fingers grazed my marks. Petre gave me a puzzled look and grabbed my hand away.

“Relax,” he said and kissed my palm. “Laws are different here.” I shivered under his lips, but if I was honest, it was more than his lips. He made me feel and made me want to feel these emotions. Sure, they scared me. Me, the girl who hadn’t believed in fairytales, yet here I was living one. Granted, only a day had passed, not even a day, but I didn’t want this to end. Ever.

Petre made me question everything I knew of life and another L word too. No, I wasn’t sure what this was, and infatuation came to mind. Jules said some of the men used the same woman, because they were infatuated. Did Petre feel this way with me too? But it was ridiculous to think it possible. If men loved women, why did they need courtesans?

His fingers grazed my cheek, and I sucked in my breath. “Lost in your thoughts again?”

“Yes,” I whispered as the blush in my cheeks rose. Petre’s cold fingers soothed the blistering skin, but I fought the urge to fall into his touch. His chair shuffled against the floor as he dragged himself closer.

“You don’t like the staring?” I shook my head as my gaze lifted to the man. His eyes remained on me. “Do you know why he keeps staring?” Petre’s lips fell to my ear, and I gasped; those lips surged my heartbeat. “Because you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, but he wonders what you see in me.”

My laughter came out in a hushed burst. The truth would’ve surely made the man laugh too. I was here because I had to be.

“I take it he doesn’t know the truth.” He pushed his chair back, and I jumped from the suddenness of his movements. Petre clenched his hands, and I heard the tapping of his foot, echoing through the room. “Sorry,” I whispered, and his lips pressed into a forced smile.

My eyes fell away. The intensity of his gaze ached as he trudged over my skin. Note to self never bring up the contract. I excused myself for the restroom and all but ran into the safety of its confines. The door didn’t close before my eyes burned with tears. Why had I opened my big mouth when everything was perfect? Because I knew deep down that I didn’t deserved any of this life.

I gripped the white sink and forced breaths through my nose and out of my mouth. My lips trembled as I heard rising voices, and I tried to shake them off.
Not everything was about you,
I reminded myself. The door slammed, and my shoulders tightened. Without looking, somehow I knew it was Petre. He spun me around and pressed me close. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop it,” he said, shaking my shoulders. I winced as the fabric rubbed against my wounds. “You did nothing wrong.” His eyes scanned me from head to toe, and his brow furrowed. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but he planted his lips on my forehead. Petre’s lips lingered as my mouth dropped open. “I wanted everything perfect; you deserve perfect, but maybe you weren’t ready for this.”

The tone burned my eyes. Please God let it be so, let his words hold true, and my life be forever changed. Save me, my soul screamed, but my mind shouted in protest. The poor beating heart slammed against my rib cage, torn between my warring insides. Petre whispered his apology again and held me tighter. Speechless, I stood there with my mouth gaped. No one had ever apologized to me before and meant the words.

“I can try,” I said, playing with the buttons on his shirt. “But …” A strange clicking sound interrupted my thoughts as Petre cursed under his breath. He turned his head and covered his mouth. “Pet—”