Until You're Mine: Requested Trilogy - Part Two Page 4

  We stay like that, with him inside me and my body pressed to him as the patch of sun creeps across the floor. Neither of us talk. Neither of us want to face the reality of what we’ve done.

  It isn’t until the patch of sun is midway across the room that he stirs again, withdrawing himself and getting to his feet. He stretches high into the air, his muscles sliding under his skin and causing his tattoos to dance.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put you at risk. The doctor said it would be at least seven days until the injection was effective.”

  So that’s what it was. Contraception. Even though I know I should be worried, I’m not. I don’t care. In this moment, I’ll take any scrap of happiness I can. To think about the future, about what’s to come, simply hurts too much.

  Ryker looks over at me cautiously. “I’m sorry. It was selfish and stupid of me. I should know better. I will call the doctor.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I should have never—”

  “It’s been six days.” I don’t want to even think about it. “It will be fine.”

  Ryker sighs. “You want coffee?” he asks, so normally, so ordinarily.

  “Coffee? I would die for some coffee.” Just the thought of it alone causes saliva to pool in my mouth.

  Picking up his jeans from where I had thrown them the night before, he pulls them on, then reaches for his shirt, but I jerk it from him, shaking my head. My eyes drag themselves over his body, wondering how such perfection could exist on a man. He’s not handsome, not in the classical sense. He’s rugged and splendid and perfectly made as though he’s cut from the finest stone. Stone which fell from heaven itself.

  I nod and he turns toward the door, eliciting a sharp pang of panic within me at his departure. I want to call out for him to stop. Wait. Don’t go. But I say nothing. Because there’s nothing I can say. Instead, I reach for the blanket from the bed and throw it into the air, letting it fall to cover the ground.

  He returns moments later, a tray laden with fruit in his hands and places it in the chair he used to sit in. Grabbing the coffee cups, he places himself down on the blanket beside me and the aroma wafts into the air, causing my stomach to knot in anticipation.

  “Now that I’ve told you about my sorry excuse of a childhood, tell me about yours,” he says, staring over the rim of the cup as he brings it to his lips. His soft, full, kissable lips. But even his lips can’t draw me away from the scent of the coffee. I inhale before taking a sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down my throat.

  “Oh my god, I had forgotten what sweet, sweet nectar this is.”

  I take another sip and then another, ignoring the scalding temperature that greets my tongue. He’s watching me intently, waiting for the answer to his question. But for some reason, I don’t want to talk about my life before. I don’t want to drag the memory of my family and friends into this place. I shrug.

  “There’s not a lot to tell, really. My parents are still together, stupidly in love.” I lie back on the blanket and shrug again as though thinking of them doesn’t cause me pain. “They own a bakery. There’s not a lot else to tell really. I mainly keep to myself.”

  But he persists. “Surely there must be more to your life than your parents?”

  “You probably know everything anyway,” I say, thinking of the times he’s told me that they know everything about me. If they know it, surely he does too. But I tell him about my love for music, my feeble attempts at singing.

  He looks over at me gingerly, toying with his bottom lip between his teeth and causing sinful thoughts to come to mind.

  “Would you sing for me?”

  His request catches me by surprise. It seems wrong to sing here. Like music and this place simply can’t exist in the same space.

  “Here?”

  A smile creeps across his face, smoothing out the lines in his forehead. “Yes, here.”

  Clearing my throat, I think for a while, pondering my choice of song. For some reason, I’m nervous, more nervous than taking the stage at the local pub, more nervous than singing in church. But when I open my mouth, a song comes out. ‘La vie en rose’. A song about life through rose-colored glasses, much like the ones I know I’m wearing now.

  “That was beautiful,” he whispers reverently. “You are…Your voice is…” He pauses. “You’re amazing. What is the name of the song?”

  I’m surprised he hasn’t heard it before. No one should go through life without knowing the songs of Edith Pilaf.

  “You’ve never heard it? It’s called ‘La vie en rose’.”

  He repeats the words, though his pronunciation is clumsy. I can’t help but smile.

  “It’s French. It means life in pink.”

  “Life in pink,” he says, repeating my words again.

  “It’s kind of like the phrase seeing life through rose-colored glasses. Everything is cheerful and rosy, tainted with pink.” I wonder if he gets the symbolism.

  We’re silent for a while and then he asks about my friends. So I tell him about Roxy, and the friendship we’ve shared since going on the date with her brother. I think back to the jealousy and admiration I felt when I first got to know her. She’s traveled and seen the world. She speaks of faraway places with a dismissive tone when I can only dream about them. Roxy is everything I wish I could be. Bold and confident. Fearless and worldly. My life felt so small in comparison to hers, but now, I only feel guilt for those feelings. My life before seems so large and bold now that I’m facing a life at the mercy of my requestor.

  Looking over at Ryker hesitantly, I ask him about the one thing that’s constantly on my mind.

  “Tell me about him.”

  His body tenses, the rose-colored glasses falling from his eyes and shattering on the ground. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “No,” I say with firmness. “You can’t tell me who he is. I’m not asking for his name. Just tell me about him. He’s the son of the man who saved you. Surely he can’t be pure evil.”

  He doesn’t say anything and instead stares at the blanket as though it suddenly holds a fascination he wasn’t aware of before.

  “Tell me.”

  He doesn’t want to, it’s plain to see in his expression, but he speaks anyway.

  “His father has always been kind to me. Firm but kind. I would hope he would be the same.”

  My heart falls. “You’d hope?”

  Suddenly I understand his interest in the blanket. I trace the diamond pattern of the stars on his shoulders into the weave, wishing and hoping for him to understand my need to know about the man who claims he owns me.

  “I know it’s strange, asking about him, wanting to know about him when we’re caught in this…caught in whatever we are caught in, this pink bubble, but somehow, talking about him makes him less of a monster. If I try to think of him as a person and not the devil merely disguised as one, it helps.”

  He clears his throat, glancing over at the tray of food. “I forgot something,” he says before disappearing out the door.

  He’s gone a long time, so after waiting for a while, I get up and head to the bathroom, intending to have a shower before he returns.

  I don’t need the water scalding hot this time. I don’t need it to burn my skin and take away the feeling of him. Stepping under the steady stream, I let the water pour over me, finding myself singing the song again. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. How can I feel happy here? With him? There’s a part within me that’s screaming, telling me these feelings aren’t true, that they are merely a product of my situation. But I don’t listen. It feels so good to be happy, to not worry, even if it’s only for a moment.

  The scent of cherry blossom fills the air as I lather my hair into a bubbly mess and then let the water wash it all out again. Stepping out of the shower, I rub a towel over my hair then wrap it around my body, tucking it over my chest and wearing it like a dress. When I walk back into the room, the light of the camera is back on. Staring at it curiously, I sit
on the bed, waiting for Ryker’s return.

  The door opens with that hushed sound, but instead of the dread I used to feel, I get to my feet, ready to run over and throw myself at him. But he utters those words before he’s even through the door, his voice angry and harsh, and tinged with fear.

  “Don’t say a word.”

  Without a second thought, I drop to my knees, conditioned to his commands. His eyes are wide and desperate as he stalks toward me.

  “Head down,” he whispers.

  I drop my eyes, that familiar feeling of uncertainty knotting in my chest. Ryker walks behind me, his movements decided and sure. Pulling something out of his pocket, he wraps it over my eyes, covering my vision. It’s soft and silky, as though it’s made of satin. The material crosses over my ears, amplifying the thud of my heart and muffling his voice, even though his mouth is close to my ear.

  “He is here. Keep calm. Just obey.”

  My heart pounds faster and my skin prickles as dread washes over me. Footsteps echo over the concrete floor. More than one person. I try to pick who they might be by the sound, but the sounds are nothing more than empty steps over the concrete. I try to inhale their scent, but I can smell nothing but Ryker.

  “She’s healing well,” a deep voice says. Then it drops lower and quieter, muttering words I can’t hear. I strain, trying to overhear the conversation but it’s pointless. The fabric covering my ears muffles their voices.

  A finger slides over my shoulder and I jump, startled by the touch. Then the towel is yanked away, leaving me naked.

  “She’s marked.” This voice has a hysterical lilt to it, like the owner is struggling for control. “She’s all broken.”

  The deep voice speaks again. “We can get you another one, if you like.”

  “Another?” The voice rises in pitch. “I don’t want another! I want my songbird.”

  Fear lodges itself in my throat. The voice belongs to my requestor. There’s something almost childlike about it. And also something familiar. Faces and voices crash through my mind, trying to locate that whiff of recognition. But it is pointless. The voices are too muffled by the blindfold, or I’m too panicked to think clearly.

  My head tilts toward Ryker. I can sense him. It’s as though there’s an aura around him that radiates a heat that only I can feel. There’s an echo of a step as someone comes closer.

  “Get her to do something.” The voice has calmed, but now it holds a hint of excitement, anticipation.

  Ryker clears his throat. “Crawl.”

  “It’s my pleasure to obey your command,” I utter robotically and drop to my hands and knees, crawling around the room, hoping I don’t bump into anything or anyone.

  “Stop,” Ryker says, and I freeze, awaiting his next command. “Kneel.”

  Footsteps come toward me, and even without sight or unobstructed sound, I know they don’t belong to Ryker. My body tenses, waiting for a foreign touch.

  “Open.”

  My mind races. Open my mouth? Open my legs? It’s only a fraction of hesitation but pain slices across my cheek. The force of the blow whips my head back and I sway on my knees, attempting to regain my balance as the pain radiates.

  “She didn’t obey,” my requestor says accusingly.

  “What did you want her to open?” Ryker’s voice is forced. You can hear the anger caught at the base of this throat.

  “May I talk to you a moment? Outside?” the deeper voice says.

  No. No. No.

  Ryker is leaving.

  He’s leaving me alone with my requestor.

  The door opens and shuts. My heart sinks then beats rapidly, vibrating as though it’s caught in the pit of my stomach instead of my chest.

  His breath is heavy and sickly sweet, smelling like he’d been drinking nothing but nectar the night before. I can feel it on my skin, warm and thick. He’s examining me, pacing in circles like a predator.

  “So beautiful,” he says and a finger trails over my shoulder. I resist the urge to shudder and will my body not to betray me.

  Suddenly his voice is closer, whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry he did that to you, my songbird. But don’t worry. He’s been taken care of. He’ll never be able to lay a finger on you again. He should have known better than to touch what is mine.”

  I’m trembling now, unable to stop the terror settling in my chest. I want to lash out, yell that I’m not his, but instead I just sit, kneeling in submission as he circles me.

  His hand grips my chin, jerking it upward. “My sweet songbird,” he hisses in an almost sing-song tone.

  And then his tongue is on me, shoving its way into my mouth, more of an attack than a kiss. He moans and grabs my hand from my lap, dragging it upward until I feel his hardness.

  “That’s all for you, my songbird. When you are mine, I am going to do glorious things to you.”

  Nausea swells. But then the door opens again and I almost want to cry with relief. The man, whoever he is, steps back from me, letting my hand fall back to my lap.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MIA

  I’m not sure how long I stay kneeling there after they left. I simply sat, waiting for Ryker’s return. Waiting for him to come back to me.

  But he didn’t.

  It’s dark now. It’s been dark for a while. My knees hurt, digging into the cold concrete floor, and my body is cold, frozen almost, though I’m not sure if it’s from the temperature alone, or whether the dread that’s settled in my stomach has a part to play.

  Finally, I move, crawling over to the corner with the chains, pulling my knees to my chest and staring out the window at the stars. It was foolish to allow myself any glimpse of happiness, any shred of hope. I am trapped here. I am a captive. To think anything else is absurd.

  The moon is high in the sky when the door finally opens. I don’t look up, but I know it’s him. Everything about Ryker is familiar to me, from the sound of his steps on the floor to the way he breathes. His feet are bare as he pads over and lowers himself down the wall.

  “Are you okay?” Even though spoken softly, the words come out harsh in the stillness of the room.

  I don’t answer. Instead, I shake my head, allowing a tear to fall. Ryker wipes it away with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and tasting my sadness.

  “I didn’t know they were coming.”

  I turn to him then and ask the one thing I’ve asked so many times before. “Who is he?”

  He stares at his hands looped between his knees, then shuffles closer. “You’re freezing.” Getting to his feet, he walks over to the bed, pulling the blanket away and draping it over me, but I push it aside, not wanting its warmth, its comfort. Not wanting his.

  “You’ll get sick.”

  I turn my gaze back to the moon.

  “Look at me,” he pleads.

  And I do. Because that’s what I’m here for. To obey. But I keep my expression blank, not wanting to show him the torment that’s twisting inside me. He takes my chin gently between his finger and thumb and inches closer, his eyes scanning mine, searching for a hint of… I don’t know what. Acceptance? Desire?

  He presses his mouth to mine and his lips are hot, almost scalding. His mouth is desperate, but I don’t respond. I can’t respond. I can’t fall into happiness with him again, only to have it ripped from me. It hurts too much.

  Ryker tilts his head so our foreheads are pressed together, his breath floating over my face. “Mia, please.”

  He kisses me again. Desperately. Harshly. Roughly.

  “Mia, please,” he begs again.

  “Please, what?” I say finally. “It would be my pleasure to obey your command.”

  Those words hit him harder than any physical attack I could have launched. His hands grip into my hair. His storm-filled eyes bore into mine with such intensity I can’t keep up this façade of emptiness.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask, desperation ripping through my vocal cords. “If you want me to obey, I can do that. If you
want to give me over to him, that’s your choice. But I can’t do this. I can’t do us. I can’t be trapped in this imitation of happiness only to have it ripped away from me. I’d rather have nothing than have that. Just tell me what you want.”

  “I want you,” Ryker says, his words choked and broken. “I want you free. I want you free to choose me.”

  “But I am not free. He owns me. He owns my body. You’re the one who keeps telling me that. You’re the one that made me chant it over and over until the words got stuck in my head.” I look straight into his ocean-blue eyes. “There’s only one way for me to be free, and that’s if you choose it, Ryker. You’re the one who holds my freedom in your hands. Just open the door. Let me go.”

  He pulls away from me, turning back to press his back against the wall, eyes fixed on the ground. “It’s not that simple. I cannot betray them like that. They would kill me. They would kill you. They would kill Everly.”

  “You’ve already betrayed them by fucking me.”

  He blinks at my crassness. “That’s different.”

  “How? Because he doesn’t know?” I move to sit in front of him, taking his hands in mine, pleading with him to understand, to be my savior.

  “Because he will know. Even though we may never utter a word about our actions, our bodies and our eyes will betray us. Do you not think he will see the longing in my expression if I ever get to see you? And if he ever tries to fuck me—” Ryker winces, flinching as though I have struck him “—he will see your image reflected in my skin. You are burned there. Only you.”

  Pulling his hands away, he rakes them through his hair. “They know everything about you, Mia. You can’t simply walk away and expect there not to be any consequences.”

  Ignoring his words, I continue to plead with him. “And what about you? Will you be able to see me crawling by his side and not react? Will you be okay with knowing his hands will touch me? His—”

  “Enough!” Ryker growls, pushing himself away from me, trying to escape the images I’m forcing into his mind.

  “Why? Because that’s what’s going to happen. He. Will. Know.”