Tears of Tess (14 page)

There
wasn’t much else to say. “I’ve yet to sit final exams, but I studied how to do
building budgets, deal with local councils, permits, trade requirements. I’m top
in the class for an eco-sustainable village concept for our mid-terms.” I
fibbed. I came second, but if he wanted me in property, shit, I’d be the best
in property I could be.

He
leaned back, steepling his fingers again. I fast recognized the trademark move.
Q moved with power and the undeniable knowledge of perfect control. “How did
they take you?”

The
abrupt change in conversation side-lined me.

I
thought I’d pushed the terror down deep from being kidnapped, and purged myself
last night through a wash of tears, but panic rose and roared, blotting out
everything, apart from the agony of seeing Brax bleeding and men knocking me
unconscious. Oh, God, would I ever be free?

Q
shifted, waiting. He neither cared, nor took sadistic interest as I struggled
with memories. Why the hell did he bring it up?
Bastard.

I
answered in monotone, pretending I hadn’t lived it. Surprisingly, it helped
distance myself, and a shot of pride filled me. I’d fought and taught Leather
Jacket a lesson or two. I celebrated the small win. “I was taken in Mexico.
They hurt my boyfriend, knocked me out, and took me somewhere.”

“Did
they hurt you? Apart from your ankle?”

If
he classified being beaten and tattooed, then yes. I nodded.

He
sucked in a breath, forehead furrowing. “Did they rape you?”

Leather
Jacket tried, but failed. A cold smile tugged my lips. “No. One tried. He
wasn’t successful.”

His
hard smile matched mine, and something webbed between us. Understanding?
Respect? Something I said changed the way Q thought of me.

My
pulse accelerated. Perhaps, if I made him see
me
, not as a possession
but as a woman, things might not be so lost after all.

Whatever
his feelings, if his respect granted safety, I was all for it.

Whatever
happened between us disappeared when Q murmured, “What’s your name?” He kept eyes
shadowed by looking at the newspaper on the table. Did he not think I noticed
the casual question?

I
pursed my lips, not answering.

After
a moment, he looked up, glaring. “You will tell me your name.”

My
breath came faster, hurting my rib, but I remained silent.
What are you
doing, Tess? Is another beating really worth keeping your name a secret?
I
knew the answer: yes, it was. My name was the only thing I owned. It was sacred.

I
jumped as Q called, “Suzette!” His chin rose, showing a graceful neck and
rough-smoothness. Cords of muscle hinted at a rigorous exercise program, yet
his body wasn’t bulky. In another life, I would’ve drooled over him. He ought
to be on the cover of a GQ magazine. My eyes narrowed. Was that why he called
himself Q? So egotistical.

The
maid appeared. Her soft smile and adoration for her employer shot me in the
heart. How could she be loyal and like this man?

“Oui,
maître?”

“Enfermer
la dans la bibliothèque. Retirez le téléphone et l'ordinateur portable. Ca comprend?”

I
blinked, wishing I’d stayed with French in high school. Rusty cogs worked hard,
shedding dust on a language I knew, but hadn’t used in years. Something about a
library and a computer.

My
eyes flashed between Q and Suzette.

She
bowed.
“Oui, autre chose?”

My
mind sped, letting my brain stretch and remember. She’d asked if he wanted
anything else. I’d never been thankful for a good memory before, but I wanted
to cry with relief—I wouldn’t be completely in the dark. 

Q
froze, and Suzette locked him in her hazel stare. Her stance yelled protectiveness,
understanding. Eyes urged him to do… what?

They
stared for an eternity, involved in silent conversation, leaving me a third wheel.
Finally, Q nodded, sighing,
“Vous savez?”
You know.

She
relaxed, face full of sad acknowledgement.
“Elle est différente.”
She
shrugged.
“Ne vous punissez pas.”

She
spoke so fast, I only caught different and punishment. My stomach clenched as Q
glanced at me, a tortuous mix of lust and hatred in his face.

He
nodded sharply, letting his guard down; eyes flared with hunger.
“Oui.”
His voice sent shivers across my skin.

Instinct
knew before my mind. Something changed in Q. He’d given in to the battle he
fought. My heart jumped from its prison of ribs, galloping around my chest.
Sinister knowledge coiled through my veins. He gave up fighting. The decision
shone in his resigned but tense body. Terror demanded to know exactly what he’d
given in to.  

Suzette
looked at me with pity and hope, before disappearing into the lounge. I wanted
to run after her, beg to know what was happening.

Q
stood, brushing his immaculate suit and silver shirt. Avoiding my gaze, he
said, “Suzette has her orders. Follow them. And, seeing as you refuse to tell
me your name, you’ll be called
esclave
until you do. If you’re going to
learn French, let that be your first word.”

Now
was not the time to advise I knew enough to understand.

He
went to walk around the table, but changed his mind. My skin heated as he came
closer, and I sucked in a ragged breath as he pressed against me. His hard
thigh connected with my shoulder. He rocked his hips, deliberately making me
very aware of what was between his legs.

My
mind rebelled as everything within flushed to an all-encompassing need. He was
so hard and long—rigid and unforgiving. The way he loomed above sent fear
fluttering, mixing with unwanted desire.

I
twisted away, wincing from my rib, but the pain couldn’t stop the hatred for my
traitorous body. How could I even think of desire? That was the thing—I didn’t
think. My body reacted. Starved of something it needed for so long, coupled
with the act of control, triggered buttons despite my terror and repulsion.
Tears choked. How could I?
I’m a sick, twisted freak.

Q
interrupted my confusion and hatred. “Do you know that word?”

I
didn’t have a clue, too involved mentally beating myself for such a horrid
betrayal.
Fight! Think of Brax.
My heart stopped.
No, don’t think of
Brax
.

Q
captured my chin, a flare of heat clenched my stomach. “
Esclave,
answer
me. Do you know that word?” His mouth was so close; I couldn’t tear my eyes
away.

Ordering
my brain to work, ignoring my sinning body, I shook my head. I did know the
word: slave. But ignorance was a weapon, and I didn’t want him to know my
arsenal.   

I
thought fast, thankful when the threads of lust blazed to hate. Yes, hate. That
emotion would be my salvation whenever Q managed to turn my body against me.

My
voice shook. “I am not an
esclave
and you are not my
maître.
You
will never be.”

His
pupils dilated, and a hand shot from nowhere, wrapping around my neck. We stared
nose to nose, him looming in an expensive Gucci suit. “You
are
my
esclave
.
It isn’t negotiable. And consider my proposal for two options revoked. I can no
longer do so.”  He breathed hard with unmasked desire. “You’re mine, and I
chose option one.”

I
panted. I ached. Every cell erupted, dripping with black, dangerous thoughts. I
struggled to remember how much I hated Q, as a carousel of emotions swirled,
making me dizzy, hurtling into darkness. In the darkness lurked heat, fear,
intoxication, hyperawareness.

A
tear trickled down my cheek; I was ruined already.

Q
growled and I liquefied deep inside. My traitorous body swelled and warmed all
the while my mind revolted, spewing obscenities. How could I allow my body to
betray me so completely?
Why am I so fucked up?

Q
watched my unravelling in wonderment. His mouth parted, pale eyes blazing.

All
of this was wrong. So, so wrong. I fell headlong into mourning.

Q
ran his nose down mine, breathing deep. Something hard and tight squeezed my
stomach. I didn’t move. I
couldn’t
move.

“I
don’t want option one,” I whispered. I knew what it included: degradation,
sexual torture, all manner of things one would do with an unwanted possession.
Played with, toyed with, and ultimately thrown out with the trash.

Another
rebellious tear escaped, and I hated the droplet with everything. It showed how
weak I was, how ruined I already felt.

Q
froze, watching the tear trail down my cheek, tickling heated skin. Eyes flashed
to mine, and for a millisecond, I saw something human—compassion, remorse, then
hunger reclaimed him and he ducked. His tongue swept over my cheek with gentle
tenderness, capturing my salty remorse, then ran over his bottom lip.

Maybe
because Leather Jacket licked me the same way, or once again instincts knew
something I had yet to understand, I relaxed a little. Q didn’t lick with sick
pleasure, he licked with kindness.

The
screwed up, broken part of me, reacted to Q’s insolent possessiveness. I wanted
so much to believe he would be kind and not hurt me. But he accepted me as a
bribe! No one with a soul would do that. I couldn’t afford to let his act
beguile me.

My
eyes snapped closed, protecting all facets of my soul. Ten percent wanted him
to deliver his threats—wanted him to be rough and use me. While ninety percent wanted
to stab him with the butter knife over and over, until blood decorated the
silver wallpaper and pretty tablecloth.

He
released me, trailing soft fingertips through my hair. I swayed, broken so
easily, confused completely.

“Until
tonight,
esclave
.”

*Swallow*

B
eing
a slave was… dare I say… boring.

After
Q left, Suzette hovered, never letting me out of sight. She came across as sweet
and obedient, but I saw the truth. She was Q’s: a head housekeeper who helped keep
his slave in line. What had she said to him in the dining room? She antagonized,
while giving him permission. Q may pay her salary, but she held a power over
him I didn’t understand.

I
didn’t think he would’ve pressed against me or licked my tears if she hadn’t
encouraged him to give in to the battle inside.

Sometimes,
I really hated having sensitive instincts—I sensed too much—painted too vivid
futures that I didn’t want to come true.

What
freaked me out the most was Q listened to her—pushed by his maid to do
something he couldn’t restrain. My eyes narrowed, trying to figure out their
relationship.

Surprisingly,
with Q gone, my hunger came back, and I devoured the cold poached eggs. Suzette
never left, and once I finished, she guided me toward the library, nonchalantly
closing the door.

She
left and my ears pricked as the lock clicked.

She
may have left with a sweet smile, and my cell might’ve upgraded to include
expensive literature and crystal decanters, but it was still a cage.

My
thoughts filled with Q. Where did he disappear to? Probably to run an empire
full of illegal activities and debauchery. Only work that danced with unlawful
things could grant this sort of wealth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a major
drug dealer.

I
threw myself into a wingback and stiffened. His scent enveloped me, sending
heartbeats racing with notes of sandalwood, juniper, and citrus.

My
throat closed, connecting the smell of him to unhappiness. I wanted to look out
the window, plot my escape, but the library had dark cedar shutters blocking
the sun, protecting delicate books within. The air shimmered with dust motes
and slivers of light turned the room into a calming grotto.

Despite
the relaxing vibe, I couldn’t sit still. Q’s threat before leaving—until
tonight,
esclave
—careened in my skull. I wouldn’t wait patiently for
whatever he planned to do. I needed to stay active. Find a weapon. Find freedom.