Tears of Tess (42 page)

My
heart wrung dry and I accepted there was no going back. Franco would never
betray Q. I had to know one thing, though.

I
looked up. “Why me? When he didn’t touch anyone else? Why did he try to break
me if he fixes broken things?”

Franco
looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “He didn’t want to break you. He—” Lips
snapped shut, and shame shadowed his face. “This isn’t for me talk about.”

I
grabbed his arm, squeezing hard muscle. “Please, Franco. Tell me. I need to
know. I can’t deal with anymore. I thought Q cared for me. I care for him, and
I made the biggest mistake of my life running and calling Brax.” Tears welled
and spilled. “If I could take it all back, I would. You owe me the truth.”

Franco
patted my hand over his. “I know, Ms. Snow, but it doesn’t change the fact that
for the first time, Q responded to a slave the way a normal master would. He
saw your fight and loved you weren’t broken. He wasn’t trying to break you by
doing what he did.” He dropped his voice so I could barely hear. “He was hoping
you could break him.”

Blood
rushed into my ears. The songs about needing to fight and claim. I wanted to
slap myself for not seeing. Q needed someone who matched his darkness, waged
the same war between pleasure and pain.

We
were so similar, yet he never let me get close to show him. I ruined it. The
police gave an ultimatum, and Q had no choice but to accept.

Swallowing
hard, Franco added, “Q deals with a lot. I hoped he finally found the one
person who could help him. But then you ran, and it’s come to an end.”

Franco
dropped his arms, stepping back, withdrawing in one swift move. “I’m sorry for
what you dealt with in Mexico, and what
Lefebvre
 
did to you, but it’s time for you to forget about Mr. Mercer,
and go back to your boyfriend.”

The
mention of Brax shot a poker through my heart. What a terrible girlfriend I
turned out to be. If Q wanted me, I would never have left. I would’ve let Brax
fumble without me, stomping on my promise that I would never leave.
Will I
ever live with myself?

Franco
pushed me toward the taxi stands. Rows of cars waited, bright under glaring
lights.

Shoving
something into my hands, he said, “This is for your troubles. Goodbye, Ms.
Snow.”

I
wanted to scream as Franco strode away and disappeared. I hated my last name.  I
missed
esclave
. I missed what the word meant: belonging. Not just to Q,
but an entire different existence.

I
didn’t know how long I stood on the footpath, clutching the envelope Franco
gave, but eventually I had no choice but to move. Move forward. Try and forget.
 

In a
daze, I shuffled to the taxi stand.

A
driver quirked a bushy black eyebrow. “No luggage, little lady?”

I
blinked. The moment I got in the car, my life would suck me along, and I would
never be able to stop it. I would become Tessie again. Fierce Tess would be no
more. Q would be no more.

Q was
wrong about one thing. Something about me was broken: my heart.

Shaking
my head, I mumbled. “No, no luggage.”

Get
through today, then think about tomorrow
. One
baby step at a time.

Sliding
into the plastic wrapped interior, I gave him my address. Our address. Me and
Brax.

I was
going home.

*Bell
Bird*

I
didn’t
have a key.

Running
fingers along the top of the doorframe, I found the spare. Our apartment
resided on the bottom floor of a building of eight units. A one bedroom, chilly
box, with no sun or views, but we decorated with bright fabrics and Brax’s DIY projects.

Dammit,
fit
.

The key
wouldn’t slide into the lock because I shook so much.

I was
home. The place where I’d been happy, but clueless as to who I was. Walking
through the door meant so much more than just returning. By doing this, I let Q
win. I let him disown me.

I
hunched, holding my stomach, trying to gather strength. My eyes rested on
Brax’s steel-capped boots on the door mat, and my heart hung heavy in my chest.

You
can’t ever let Brax see you like this, Tess… Tessie. This pain is private.

I
straightened, sucking in gulps of air. Brax expected a relieved and distraught
girlfriend, not a woman vibrating with need for another. Not a woman craving a
whip and violence.

I
undid the lock and stepped over the threshold.

Fear
hit first.

Fear
of sameness—the overwhelming homeliness created by Tessie and Brax. It reached
like eager claws ready to suck me unwillingly into the past.

My
feet stuck to the floor, locking in place, battling an unbearable need to run.
The longer I stood trembling with fear, the more confused I was. My mind
struggled with two sets of memories: Tessie and Tess. Brax and Q. Australia and
France. They wouldn’t mesh and in my swirling confusion, the apartment worked a
terrible magic. Soothing my terror, making it feel as if I never left.

Q? Who
was that? A figment of my imagination.

Mexico?
As if, Brax would never travel so far from home.

In a
blink, the last two and a half months faded from reality to dream. I grasped at
tendrils, forcing myself not to forget. I could
never
forget. No matter
how painful, I wanted to wear the memories like armour, so I never grew weak
again.

I
inched forward, hands curled. Daisy curtains were drawn haphazardly, just like Brax
did every time. A dirty plate languished in the sink in our tiny cream kitchen,
and his red tool bag blocked the corridor leading to the bathroom and bedroom.

No
lights were on, only shadows. I tiptoed through my own home, feeling like an
intruder. I didn’t belong. I never belonged.

A bang
came from the bedroom.

I
crouched, ready to sprint, instincts on high alert.

Claws
clacked on floorboards and a loud bark hurt the silence. Blizzard charged from
the bedroom. The husky bounded over the tool bag and crashed against my legs.

The
moment his hot doggy body touched mine, I folded to the floor. I never liked
Blizzard, but he signified Brax completely. Eager, happy, loyal to the end.

Dog
breath made my nose wrinkle as he slobbered, tail wagging so hard his butt
wiggled. “Calm down, Blizzard. I don’t need drowning in kisses.”

He
whimpered as I pushed him away, needing some air. Forcing his massive body onto
my lap, he licked with his road-rash tongue. Giving in, I pressed my face into
his ruff. “You missed me, huh? You better not have chewed my handbags while I’ve
been gone.”

Blizzard
yipped.

A loud
thud and a muffled curse came from the bedroom.

I
froze. Blizzard sensed my mood and clambered off, darting down the corridor to
where his master appeared.

My
heart churned.
Master
. Blizzard was owned. I no longer was.

Brax
stumbled as Blizzard careened into him, then looked up.

Our
eyes locked—sky-blue to grey-blue. I was so used to pale green, I flinched.

Brax’s
jaw hung open and tension erupted.

My
insides rippled with complex bewilderment. Old Tess would’ve flown down the
corridor and into Brax’s arms, slamming us to the floor. She would’ve burst
into tears and kissed him all over. So, so happy to be back with someone who
cared enough to share their life with her.  

New
Tess waged World War Ten in her heart. Q still held me captive, even though I
tried to shrug off his conditioning. Q didn’t consider how distraught and
lonely I would be. He proved he wasn’t a good master. Everyone knows, after
captivity, a pet doesn’t survive in the wild. He should be punished.

You
don’t belong to him.
Not any longer. But how was I supposed to live after Q? I
knew what true belonging meant. It hadn’t been ethical or normal, but I’d been treasured
and priceless. I didn’t just want to belong. I wanted to be
ruled
. And
Brax would never rule me. He couldn’t.

Brax
shuffled forward, pushing the damn dog out of the way. “Is this real?” His deep
voice, full of sleep, rasped with remembrance. Brax. Sweet, comforting Brax.
He’d been all alone. Probably suffering ten times what I did.

“Brax.”
I stepped forward.

Our
eyes never left and he moved. “Tessie? My God, Tess.”

Then,
we were running. We slammed together, wrapping tight arms, squeezing until
breathless. Brax rained me in kisses while his bed-warm body, in only singlet
and boxers, scalded me with grief. 

My
heart split into fragments. Q’s voice filled me head.
“Smell
so good. So fucking good. Like rain… no, no like frost. Sharp and fresh and icy
and cold and… and painful.” He closed his eyes, voice trailing into a whisper.
“You love c—causing pain.”

Pain.

It
would become a familiar passenger in my heart. Q caused immeasurable agony. I
wouldn’t survive it.
You will survive it.

Brax
stopped kissing my hair, gathering me in a bone-crunching hug. “Oh, my God,
Tess. Tessie? It’s really you. Oh, my God.” His familiar apple scent and size
all overwhelmed, and I did the one thing I swore not to do.

I
broke.

Tears waterfalled
and I sobbed. Sobbed for my past with this man. The knowledge I changed
completely, and could never go back. I would always live with Q in my heart;
there was no longer room for Brax. But I had to pretend. This moment marked the
day I locked away my wants and needs, ready to act my ass off. Tessie would be
reborn through determination and lies.

Brax
pulled back, tears tracking his face. He planted a wet kiss on my lips; I forced
myself not to recoil
. He’s gone through hell thinking you were dead. Kiss
him. Show him you still love him.

I
opened my mouth, expecting a violent tongue, so conditioned to savagery, but
Brax kissed sweetly, delicately, so different to Q. So different to what I
needed.

He
pulled away, grabbing my hands. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His eyes flew
over me in panic. My grey dress was rumpled and creased, but it looked
expensive. It should—it was Prada.

Brax
frowned when he noticed the envelope in my grip. I still hadn’t had the balls
to open it.

Hurt?
Yes, in so many ways, but my wounds weren’t visible. I shook my head. “I’m
fine.”

He scowled.
“What happened?” He spun me around, running hands down my body. “Are you sure?
How did you get here? Did you escape? Maybe we should go to a hospital?”

I
laughed softly as his fingers tickled, then winced as he caught residue pain
from my rib. “I’m fine. Honest. I just need to go to bed and get some rest.
It’s been a really long day.”
Longest day of my life.

Brax
wrapped arms around me; together we walked into the dark bedroom. Our queen-sized
bed waited, and the cover I made from material scraps depicting the Eifel Tower,
cackled with mockery.