Torn from You (8 page)

“Raul is
testing you.” He ran a finger across my collarbone and then lower
to the top of my breast. “And me.” A feathered touch swept across
my nipple causing it to become erect as if I wanted his touch. Oh
God, how was my body reacting to him like this? Why? How could I
like what he was doing? Why was there a familiar twinge between my
legs?

No. Stop.

I stiffened
and tried to tune out his movements. Block him. Keep him out of me.
“Please Sculpt, let me go.” It was natural calling him Sculpt as if
using his real name would somehow weaken me to his power even
more.

“That’s not
possible.”

The anger
simmered at the edge of my sanity. “So, what do you get for
bringing me here? Besides the satisfaction of seeing a woman
beaten, tortured, and humiliated?” I braved asking the question,
knowing he may not answer, but hoping he’d give me something.

His hand
stilled on my neck. I thought for a second he was going to choke
me, but he remained completely still and quiet. I was waiting to be
hit or dragged back to the basement, and I was now worried that I’d
spoken when I shouldn’t have. I wanted to run and hide—cower. I was
a mouse quivering and scared of every squeak I made or movement. I
was so uncertain of everything that I sought the only reassurance I
could get, and that assurance was from Logan.

“
I
get
you
.”

I felt the
twitch of his finger on my skin. Logan was steady as a rock; he
didn’t twitch. Never did he falter. There was something more to his
answer. Raul may be giving me to Logan, but there was something
else he wasn’t telling me.

“Why? Why are
you doing this? Was everything we had ...” I couldn’t finish the
sentence. I shouldn’t have asked, and yet, I was losing control. I
wanted answers. To know why he lured me into his trap.

Logan
pulled me further into the room then turned me to face him, hands
on both my arms. “Do you fear me, Emily? Because if you don’t Raul
will know. He excels at knowing fear. You give him something else,
he’ll know. Then we’re dealing with more than you ever
imagined.”

“I hate you,”
I shouted the words, and his grip tightened.

“I know,” his
voice was steady and composed as if he was unaffected by my words.
“But fear must override your hate. Remember what I taught you? You
can’t have that here.”

What he taught
me? The self-defence? What did ...?And then it hit me—he’d wanted
my anger when he’d been teaching me to fight. After Logan
reluctantly agreed to be my teacher, he took my fear and turned it
into a controlled anger. He gave me confidence to fight back, and
now ... now he wanted the fear back?

“You will fear
me, Emily. And if you don’t ... I will make you.” His words were
abrupt and unruffled. It sent shivers down my spine.

Did I fear
him? Yes. I was scared of who he’d become, of what he was, and of
that cold, emotionless face I thought I once knew. I was scared of
how my body still reacted to him. How it betrayed me. And yes, I
was scared that he’d give me to Raul. Because Raul I feared the
most, and I was uncertain if I could survive him.

“This is his
business. Raul kidnaps girls, women. They are trained then
auctioned off. They bring him lots of money. You would bring him
lots of money.”

“Kat and
Matt—”

“You’re
twenty, old enough to disappear. Raul made you disappear. One more
girl missing won’t bring the law down to Mexico looking for you,
especially with a mother who doesn’t give a shit about her
daughter.”

That hurt, but
was unfortunately true. My heart rate picked up, and I licked my
dry, cracked lips. Kat and Matt wouldn’t give up on me. They’d come
for me; they had to.

He took my
wrists and tied what felt like rope around them. I start to
hyperventilate, afraid of what he’d do, scared of being so
vulnerable. “I do.”

“You do what,
Emily?”

“I do fear
you.”

Silence as he
continued to tighten the ropes. All I could hear was the coarse
nylon as it moved back and forth from whatever he was doing to it
after he tied it to my wrists. Suddenly, he let me go, and I heard
his footsteps stride away like he was angry. Then a door slammed in
the opposite direction of where we entered the room.

I fell to my
knees, my wrists tied together, and my skin cold and clammy and ...
dirty. I felt so dirty inside and out. I’d been in the same clothes
for days, no shower, little food.

The door
opened again.

Footsteps. He
stopped in front of me. “There are rules you have to follow. Kneel
when someone enters the room. Never speak unless spoken to. Keep
your head down, and if you want to live then you will submit to
me.” He grabbed my wrists, pulled me to my feet, and raised my arms
above my head. I felt something snag on the rope.

He let me
go.

I yanked and
realized he’d tied me to something above me. I tugged harder, but I
couldn’t get free. Panic crawled over my skin.

His knuckles
brushed over my neck, and then I felt the tug on the neckline of my
shirt. With one yank he tore my shirt from my body.

I begged Logan
in my mind. Begged and screamed to let me go, but I never emitted a
sound. I took several deep breaths, knowing to fight would only
prolong whatever he was going to do to me.

His hands
undid my jeans, and he dragged them off as well; then my panties
followed. I hung naked, quivering, and blinded. The degradation was
so powerful that I wanted to curl up in a tomb and die.

He cupped my
chin. It was soft and kind as if he was trying to give me some kind
of reassurance. “It’s in you. I saw the strength,” Logan whispered.
He ran his finger down my cheek then across my lips. “You need to
be the lion here, Eme.”

I choked back
the sob in my throat at the sound of his voice, the one I had known
and loved. The coldness had dissipated, and my mind was screaming
for him.

I heard the
door creak open. “He is ready for you.”

Logan’s hand
stiffened on me. “No screaming.”

I jumped at
the tone of his cold voice.

He let me go,
and I heard him stride across the room then abruptly turn and come
back again. “Follow the rules. If you don’t ... you will be lost to
this world, and I can’t stop it.”

Maybe I want
to be lost.

Yes. No. God,
I just wanted to go back. My mind was so screwed up that I couldn’t
think straight. I was clinging to a man that no longer existed ...
No, that was wrong. The man I knew had been a lie.

His breath
drifted across my face, and then his hand was in my hair, pulling
my head back. “Emily,” he breathed, saying my name like it meant
something to him. “Don’t fail me.” His words were barely a whisper.
If I could have seen him I’d have imagined those eyes, the ones
that pulled me in day after day as he taught me how to fight, when
he sang to me in the horse field, when he wiped ice cream off my
chin. His sweet whispered words were in the voice I grew to love,
the one that promised to protect me no matter what.

He promised
never to hurt me. He promised.

“When I come
back ... remember the rules.”

I heard his
steps fade away, then the door closed, and the lock turned.

Oh God, help
me. Don’t leave me like this. Come back.

Three hours
later

The blindfold
was wet from my silent tears. I lost all the feeling in my hands
from the ropes tied tight around my wrists. I prayed. For
salvation. For death. For Logan to come back. I had nothing left
inside. Nothing. The emptiness was like a vacant shell, hollow,
alone without a single thought except the instinct to survive.

My lips were
so dry now that they’d split open in several places like tiny paper
cuts. I was cold despite the warmth in the room as I stood naked
for hours. I listened for doors opening and footsteps constantly.
It became so surreal that every few seconds, I swore I heard
footsteps, yet it was nothing.

My imagination
ran away with me, and I couldn’t get it back under control. Images
of being left here for days on end. Starving and alone. I never
thought being alone would be so hard to endure, but the silence was
like a knife being dragged across my skin. The fear of not knowing.
The waiting. Unsure for how long I’d be left here.

I stood
hanging by my arms, my tiptoes barely holding me up. Agony ate its
way through my muscles as I shook uncontrollably.

Then, finally
... footsteps.

Voices.

The door
opened, and I gasped, choking back the sobs. My chest heaved with
relief and yet ... uncertainty. I knew I wasn’t supposed to cry,
and if I did he may leave me here longer.

Voices closed
in on me.

Logan’s and
someone else’s. The footsteps drew closer, and I tensed, waiting
for the pain or a caress. I didn’t know which. I couldn’t. My body
was so distressed with the frantic worry that I was sweating. I
took deep breaths like Logan had taught me in self-defence to
control my fear.

But that was
what he wanted—fear. Well, he had it. I was living in an ocean of
it.

The familiar
scent of Raul drifted into me, and my nerves sparked.

Please. No.
Don’t let him take me.

I’d do
anything, absolutely anything so that Raul didn’t take me.

“I will not
tolerate her behavior in my house, Sculpt. Some of the men asked me
why I hadn’t killed her for the disrespect.”

“I know how
you operate, Raul,” Logan replied.

Raul’s hand
traced up over my breast, rough calloused hands far different than
Logan’s. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood in my mouth.
“Trust is earned, Sculpt. You must earn that. As must she.” His
fingers gripped my chin. “She is very beautiful. When you tire of
her, she’ll make a good amount on auction.”

“
I
suspect she will. But for now, she is mine. Aren’t you,
Emily?”

Never. Never again.
“Yes.” I knew my voice was trembling.
Logan, God, don’t do this to
me.
Even though I
couldn’t see, I felt Logan tense. It was like the air stopped for a
brief second as the room went silent.

“If you lose
the fight, she’ll be sold.”

“I won’t
lose.”

Raul’s finger
slipped across my dry lips, and I knew what I was supposed to do. I
didn’t want to do it, and my stomach churned violently at the
thought of what I had to do. But I did. I couldn’t face that room
downstairs again. Not now. I didn’t know if I ever could again. I
slipped my tongue out and licked it then drew it into my mouth.

Raul chuckled.
“Better.” He let me suckle on it for a few seconds then
withdrew.

My heart was
pounding so hard, I swore they could hear it. The tears sat in the
rims of my eyes, teetering like a ball on a ledge. I clenched my
fingers into fists, nails digging into my palm, trying desperately
to focus on anything but what was happening.

I was glad I
was blindfolded. It may have kept the fear alive of the unknown,
but it also saved me from seeing Raul. Of looking into his narrowed
eyes as I sucked his finger. I’d have never been able to force
myself to do it if I’d been able to see his face. Had Logan known
that? Was there a reason to him keeping me blindfolded? No. I had
to stop fantasizing Logan was in any way helping me.

“You’re a lot
like me, Sculpt,” Raul said. “Determined. Resilient. And I see that
merciless confidence when you fight.”

“I’m nothing
like you, Raul,” Logan replied. “I have what you don’t, and that is
patience.”

Raul laughed.
“Ahh, you know me well. Yes, that is true. I’m not a patient man.”
Footsteps shifted, and the hardwood floor creaked. “She makes one
mistake, and she leaves. I won’t have disobedience in my home—ever.
You should know that, Sculpt.”

The door
opened and closed then I heard a key turn in the lock. Silence.
They’d both left. The sobs choked me as I broke into a thousand
fragments. Why did he hate me so much to do this to me? What had I
done wrong? Why me?

The blindfold
was soaked by my tears. The pain had gone ... No, it was there; my
mind had faded it out in order to survive. What remained was
weakness. That was how I felt. Too tired to fight. Afraid to
fight.

And God yes
... I wanted to be loved by him again. For him to hold me in his
arms and take this nightmare away.

Did I really
think that? How could my mind even contemplate loving him after
what he’s put me through? But I did. I couldn’t control it. He’d
swept me up and taken possession of my heart, even though he was
now ripping it to shreds.

But I wanted
Logan to save me.

I wanted the
man I fell in love with to carry me away from this place.