Until You're Mine: Requested Trilogy - Part Two Page 5

  “Mia, they know everything about you. Everything. Do you understand? They know who your parents are. They know your best friend, where she lives, where she works, who she dates. They know the names of your neighbors. They will find you, Mia. There is no doubt about that. There is nothing we can do to escape them. I know what we have is twisted. I know we should stop, that no good can come of this but here, now, us…Being with you is the only part of you I will ever have. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I crave you. I hate that I crave you, but I do. I’ll take any part of you I can get.” He grips my face with desperation, pushing his lips against mine with brutality before breaking away again. “I know it is selfish of me, I know I shouldn’t be doing this, that I’m only hurting you more, but I can’t stop.”

  He can’t stop and I can’t resist him. Not now. Not when he’s so close, when his lips feel like the only part of heaven I will ever taste. He presses against me until I surrender, lying down on the cold concrete as he crawls over me, pushing his body to mine like he wants to crawl under my skin. His mouth is feverish and desperate, and I lose myself in him until the desire to have him inside me becomes a burning need. An ache of longing so sharp it hurts.

  “Please,” I moan, unsure what I’m begging for.

  “Mia.” My name is mumbled by his mouth on my skin.

  I need to see him. All of him. I claw at his shirt, peeling it from his body. We detach long enough for it to slip over his head before our mouths collide again. My nails scrape down his back, evoking a glorious groan which falls from his mouth as the pale lines turn red. And then I’m pushing his jeans over his hips, needing him, wanting him. He wrestles himself free, reaching down to tug them from his feet, even as our mouths are still locked in battle. My legs fall open willingly and he pushes inside with one masterful thrust.

  I moan. It’s a sound filled with pleasure and contentment and want.

  He stills, his movements slowing, his mouth becoming lazy and his kisses drawn-out, rather than the feverish desperation of before. I pull him close, not content until every part of us is touching. But he lifts his head back, staring deeply into my eyes as he rocks inside me and pushes a strand of hair back from my face.

  “We can’t keep doing this.” My voice hitches as he pushes deep inside, overwhelming me with pleasure.

  “I know,” he says.

  “It’s not safe.” I bite my lip, my head tilting backward as the waves of pleasure start to roll.

  “I know.” His mouth is gentle on the skin of my neck, nibbling and tasting as the tension builds within me. “But I want you,” he says. “I need you.”

  I cry out, whimpers of pleasure echoing off the walls as I convulse under him. They set him off as well and his body tightens over me, muscles straining as an orgasm rips through him, pushing into me harder, deeper, blending our bodies together in a mess of sweat and lust and panting breaths.

  Then he rolls off me, chest heaving, an arm thrown over his face as he stares at the ceiling. “Letting you go would be signing your death warrant. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.”

  “I know,” I say, echoing the same words he used in the throes of passion.

  A coldness settles deep in my bones.

  I know he will not set me free.

  I know I am trapped.

  I know this is to be my life.

  And I know it is his fault.

  “What happened to Marcel?” I roll onto my side to watch him.

  He sits up, eyes glancing over at the camera. Panic crosses his expression. “Fuck.”

  “What happened to Marcel?” I ask again, recalling the words of my requestor.

  Ryker gets to his feet, walking toward the door. “He’s not here anymore. You don’t have to worry about him hurting you. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I am alone.

  Alone and empty.

  Alone and cold.

  The red light blinks off. Then a few seconds later, it blinks back on again. Getting to my feet, I walk over to the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror. I stare at my reflection, no longer recognizing the girl who stares back at me.

  “You are a captive,” I say to her. “He has hurt you and broken you.” Taking a deep breath, I stare intently into the mirror, as if trying to convince the girl I see that it is true. “You do not love him.”

  I can’t fool myself any longer.

  Walking back into my cell, I sit down on the bed. It’s only then I notice the tray of fruit sitting forgotten on the chair in the corner. I notice the apples and the oranges.

  I notice the knife.

  Almost as though in a trance, I lift myself off the bed and walk over. My finger runs along the blade and a thin red line appears.

  Could I do it?

  I watch as the blood runs down my finger and drips onto the floor. I imagine holding the blade against Ryker’s throat, seeing the confusion and the heartbreak in his eyes.

  Could I press it to his skin?

  Could I slice the blade and watch him die?

  Could I be free?

  No. I know I couldn’t. But maybe all I’d have to do is threaten him. Would he be willing to risk himself to keep me here?

  Squeezing the handle in my fist, I sit back on the bed, tucking the knife under the blanket, and await Ryker’s return.

  When he walks back in, he is still unclothed and the beauty of him twists in my gut. I blink back the tears and the confusion, knowing what I must do. Knowing I have no choice. If I hold the blade to his neck, he will have to let me go. He will have to wait as I open the door and set myself free.

  But what if he doesn’t? What if he calls my bluff? Would I be able to follow through on my threat? Would I be able to hurt him in order to free myself? I break out in a sweat just thinking about it. The blood drains from my face and my hands go clammy with the cold.

  Upon seeing my distress, Ryker walks over, falling to the space between my legs, kneeling on the ground and looking at me with those storm-filled eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” he says, once again wiping away my tears. “I will figure this out. I will keep you safe.”

  But safety isn’t what I want. Freedom is. I used to think they were the same thing.

  My hand trembles as I slide it through the sheets, searching for the cold bluntness of the knife’s hidden handle. I’m chanting internally, repeating the only words that can strengthen me, even though they are a lie.

  I do not love him.

  I do not love him.

  I do not love him.

  He doesn’t notice the knife until the blade is pressed to his throat, and even then, it’s only his eyes closing and then opening again slowly that gives me any clue that he understands what I’m about to do.

  “You know I can’t let you leave.” His words are pained. The movement of this throat as he speaks presses against the blade, drawing the finest line of blood.

  “Let me go or I’ll use this.” I can’t even bring myself to call it what it is, and Ryker sees the hesitation in my eyes. He sees the torment and the conflict and presses his throat against the blade further.

  “I won’t do it, Mia.” A single trickle of blood runs down his neck. “I won’t let you die. I can’t. I’d rather you be with him than dead.”

  “This time,” I say, leaning close to whisper in his ear and ignoring the waves of conflicting emotions crashing through me as I inhale his scent. “You’re not the one who gets to choose.”

  He shakes his head drawing more blood from the friction of the blade. “You won’t do it. You can’t do it.”

  “Let me go.”

  His voice is torn. “No.”

  A battle rages within, but I think of my mother, my father, of Roxy and all the people in my small town. There is no way Roxy would hesitate over this. She would take the blade and plunge it into him without a thought. She would put herself through hell rather than let someone take over her life. So, I think of the life I want and then I think of the life I will have if I don’t do this.
Nothing but a plaything for a deranged man. Owned.

  It only takes an instant. Just a quick flick of my hand and I plunge the knife into his shoulder. He cries out in pain and falls to the ground, the knife stuck deep into his flesh. The dull thud when I plunged it in makes me think I hit bone. Blood seeps across the floor. Ryker is groaning, though he doesn’t move. He just lies there with desperation in his eyes as he stares at me. His lips form my name but no sound comes out.

  There’s no time to think.

  There’s no time for remorse.

  It’s now or never.

  Rushing toward the door, I jerk it open, grateful for Ryker’s habit of not locking it while he is with me, and find a hallway and an opening with an array of monitors sitting on a desk. On one of them, Ryker lies on the ground. Star is in another. But I tear past the screens, heading for the glimpse of a stairway visible just beyond. I take the stairs two at a time, not caring how much noise I make, desperation for escape the only thing guiding me, and then I burst through the door, both excited and scared of what is on the other side.

  But there’s nothing but horses faintly outlined by the light of the moon to greet me. They breathe heavily, snorting at my sudden appearance. I spot another door down the far end and sprint, scared that my escape will be thwarted at any second.

  Pushing against the wooden door, it breaks open and I am outside. Outside and alone. My heart pounds in my ears. My veins pump panic and hope, tainting my blood.

  Then, I run.

  Stones cut into my bare feet. Grass lashes against my ankles. But I am free. I keep running through fields and paddocks until I come across a road. In the distance, I see the lights of an approaching car.

  Do I wave it down or do I hide?

  Fear decides for me as I dive into the grass, hiding from the glare of the lights. What if it’s him? What if it is my requester?

  The car slows. My heart races. Pulling to a stop, the window of the car rolls down. In the darkness, I can’t see the details of his face. I can only see blue eyes. I fight within myself, not knowing whether to stay hidden or whether to hope for the kindness of a stranger.

  After waiting a while, the window winds back up, the eyes disappear, and the car pulls back onto the road.

  A sob escapes as I get to my feet, turning away from the road and running toward a grove of trees that stand dark and tall in the moonlight. I stumble over sticks and stones that cut into my feet, but I don’t notice the pain. I don’t notice the whip of the wind as it tosses my hair. I don’t notice anything but the sound of my feet on the ground and the thud of my heart.

  The fullness of the moon allows me enough light to see where I am going but the desperate panic of my movements cause me to stagger, my hands bracing against the ground, keeping me upright as I race through the trees. A mound of dirt rises beneath me, fresh and loose and I fall face first into its dampness. Scrambling back to my feet, I keep running, my breaths coming out as white fog in the darkness.

  I’m not sure how long I run. I’m not sure which direction I’m running in or where I hope to go.

  My only thought is escape.

  ryker

  CHAPTER SIX

  RYKER

  Pulling the shower curtain open, I stare at Marcel’s body hunched over the tiles. His gaze is still fixed upward as though he’s waiting for my return. Blood has pooled at the bottom of the shower, coagulating into a thick dark puddle. Turning on the showerhead, I wash the deep red stain away, nudging the body away from the drain with my foot. I close his eyes then bend down to heave him over my shoulder.

  I do all this but I’m not thinking about it. I shed no tears for this loss of life. It is what it is. He knew the risk he took the moment he walked into her room. Instead, all I can think about is her. The welts over her back. The look of desperation in her eyes as she pleaded with me to let her go. The way she felt trembling against me. The heat of her body. The softness of her lips.

  The narrow stairs are hard to maneuver with Marcel hoisted over my shoulder. I keep bumping into the walls, cursing when his leg or his hand bang noisily.

  There’s a small patch of forest out the back of the stables. I dig by the light of the moon, not wanting to create any attention with a flashlight. The ground is cold but soft. The roots of the trees are the only resistance. Something flutters and lands on a branch above me, watching my movements in the dim light. I feel like it is judging me, cocking its head side to side as though warning of some sort of evil to come. After a while, I throw a stick in its direction, watching as it takes flight and disappears into the darkness of the night.

  When the hole is large enough and deep enough, I push Marcel’s body into it, letting it fall to the bottom in a crumpled pile. I’m tempted to jump in, leave him in a more comfortable position for the afterlife, but then the image of him wrapped around Mia with ravenous lust rising off him like steam jumps to the front of my mind, and I dump dirt over him until there’s nothing left but a dark mound rising above the level of the ground.

  The horses whinny when I walk back into the stables, shaking their heads as if they know what I’ve done. I pat the one I’ve come to call Blaze and press my forehead to her, uttering words that only she can hear. I tell her about what he did. And about what I almost did. Of how I pressed my lips to hers and wanted to do so much more, even while she was still broken and bruised. I told her of my conflict. My desire to set Mia free. Blaze reels back at my confession, shaking her head and stomping her feet.

  “I know, I know,” I mutter. “There would be another mound in the ground if I let her go, you don’t think I know that?”

  She snorts, blowing hot air over my face.

  “Yes, I agree. I need to make her understand. I just don’t know how.” The horse snickers then whinnies again, tossing its mane. Some of the other horses join in as if to lend their support.

  When I first arrived at the Atterton residence, the horses frightened me. I was young and malnourished from my life on the streets. That was before Mr Atterton found me. I don’t remember a lot about my childhood, and what I do remember, I want to forget. He took me and my sister in. He looked after us both. He fed us, housed us and educated us. I hate to think of what our lives would have been without him. In no small manner, I owe him my life. My loyalty and my obedience guarantee my sister’s safety. It guarantees her life free from the underbelly of existence that I have been thrust into. But it is worth it to keep her safe. It is worth it for Everly to have choices, the ability to make something of herself and be someone I could never hope to be. It’s a sacrifice I would make time and time again. But to explain that to Mia would be almost impossible.

  How could she understand that the man who stole her is the man who saved me?

  The morning has just broken when the sounds of the tires on the doctor’s car crunch over the gravel. I lead him down the stairs and key in the code to Mia’s door. I can’t even look at her when we enter but I know she’s looking at me. I feel the weight of her gaze. And the guilt it brings burns. Everything that has happened to her is my fault. Maybe not directly, but I am the one keeping her here. I am the one ensuring her captivity. The doctor performs his examination as I stand sullenly in the corner, arms crossed over my chest and doing my best not to show the weakness that resides within. The weakness that longs to pick her up and carry her away from this place, despite the consequences I know it will bring. That is why I can’t look at her. Because if I do, the temptation will be too much.

  But when he asks me to hold her in place, I can’t help it. Her eyes are filled with confusion and she looks at me with need. But I don’t deserve to be looked at like that. Not by her. She deserves so much more. I have nothing to offer. And I don’t tell her what the injection is for because I don’t want to think about it.

  She calls out to me when I leave. Her voice is as soft as a whisper and at first, I think I imagine it, I think it is my mind playing tricks on me by fooling me with words I long to hear. But then she speaks agai
n, and I know the words to be real. She begs me to look at her, but I can’t do it again. I’m not that strong.

  Following the doctor out the door, I wait and listen as he gives me the instructions for her care. “And because of where she is in her cycle, you will need to wait seven days before any sexual intercourse. I’ll have the results of all her blood tests back shortly and I’m sure Mr Atterton will keep you informed. I don’t anticipate any need to see her again until her injection is due in around twelve weeks.”

  I escort him out and watch until his car disappears into the distance.

  Walking back down the stairs, I dump myself in front of the monitors, my eyes flicking from screen to screen. All the girls are motionless, staring blankly at walls or out the small square of a window. Mia has her back to the camera. The sheet has fallen down her side, exposing the angry red welts. She needs the cream applied. But I can’t be the one to do it. I’m afraid of my reaction, of the conflicted torment that’s raging inside me. Is it possible to want to protect and devour something at the same time?

  Gathering creams and cloths and bandages from the collection the doctor left, I load them onto a tray. Then, on second thought, I pop into the kitchen and grab a few pieces of fruit. She will need to keep her strength up. When I push open the door to Star’s cell, she immediately stands, running over to fall at my feet.

  “Get up,” I say harshly.

  “Yes, Master.” She gets to her feet, but still has this submissive stance, one that reminds me of Marcel.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Yes, Mas—” Her head drops further. “Yes.” And then she glances up quickly, but not at me, she glances over to the door.

  “He’s not coming.” Disappointment slumps her shoulders. I don’t understand it. I saw Marcel treat her with nothing but cruelty and contempt but here she is, mourning the loss of him.

  “Is he okay?” Her voice is so faint I have to strain to hear it.

  “He’s been transferred.”

  Sadness prickles her skin and her eyes well with tears.