Blackness Within (19 page)

“I understand,” I whisper.

He raises his hand to my cheek and caresses the skin with the back of his rough fingers. I flinch at the contact and he laughs. If a witch cackles, the sound coming from him is a demon’s equivalent. I shudder as his hand continues to run down my arm until it reaches my confined wrist. Then he pauses. I was watching his movement and not his face. I quickly meet his gaze, nervous.

“Let me be clear so there are no questions. Your brother will come for you. I’ll kill him. When I kill him, you’ll watch. While you watch, you’ll comprehend the consequences of disobeying me. If you’re considering trying to run or fight, stop. There’s nowhere for you to go. You have no one, other than your junkie brother and neglectful mother. Your dog was your best chance in this and he failed. I’ll make it hurt, Natasha. I promise you that. Convince me that you’ll do as you’re told,” he purrs the last part in my ear at the same time squeezing the handcuffs tighter. As the metal digs into my skin, I remain still. Tears stream down my cheeks from the overwhelming agony.

Not from my injuries. From my heart being ripped from my chest.

I take my punishment. I’m being tormented for loving someone who doesn’t love himself. I love my brother enough to take whatever this monster wants to dole out. Blake will come for me and when he does, I’ll fight with the same ferocity that he’s always used fighting for me. We’ll die together. If I’m going to die, I’ll do it battling for my family.

“Good girl,” he murmurs into my hair before unlocking my wrists from the handcuffs.

I slump and cradle my hands to my chest. There are no broken bones, but there will be bruises. He stands and holds his hand out to me. I consider my limited options before climbing to my feet on my own.

Before I’m aware he’s moving, he pins me against the wall, squeezing my injured flesh painfully in his hands near my hips. His body is smashed against mine, making it difficult to breathe the labored breaths rattling in my chest.

“First and last warning,” he snarls in my face.

I nod shakily. He leans into me harder and increases the pressure on my wrists.

“I’m being nice. I won’t be if you do something like that again.”

“Okay,” I squeak out, barely able to get the words out of my lungs.

“Convince me,” he orders.

Then he smashes his mouth to mine. I want to fight, push him off me. I want to rip his lips from his face with my teeth. This is a test of my amenability. If I don’t respond, he’s going to hurt me. So I do the only thing I can. I pretend he’s Sully and I kiss him back.

I work my lips against his and envision Sully’s hot sweet lips caressing mine. When he releases my wrists and threads his hands around my lower back, I fist his shirt just as I fisted Sully’s leather jacket. As a groan of appreciation rumbles from his chest, I moan in return, hearing Sully’s baritone. He slants his head and forces his tongue in my mouth, and I remember Sully teasingly requesting entry as I allow it. While he plunders my mouth, marking me in a bruising assault, I feel Sully passionately drinking from my mouth as though I was the most magnificent thing he’d ever savored.

Sully tried to scare me away with his kiss. Instead, he gave me a sanctuary to hide within.

The man pulls away from me, resting his forehead against mine, intimately.

“Did you like that?” he whispers, continuing the intimacy.

“Yes,” I say softly, still in the haze of Sully.

He believes me. I know he does because he adjusts his erection when I say it and then tenderly brushes his lips against mine. The haze is almost completely gone when he moves away from me, threads his fingers with mine and tugs gently for me to follow. I do. I’ll follow him until I see a way to escape and then I’ll run with everything my legs have.

Unfortunately, there are no exits as he pulls me through a long, poorly lit hallway. The flickering fluorescents make me feel dizzier than I already am. My legs tremble as he guides me into an old service elevator. He throws the lever and it jerkily begins to climb after he pulls down the rickety gate. I want to remove myself from his grasp, but he pulls me beneath his arm and begins to feast on the soft flesh of my neck.

“Natasha?” he murmurs into skin.

“Yes?” I whisper shakily, showing my fear.

At the quiver of my voice, he lifts his head to peer down at me. His midnight eyes flick over my face, searching for something. I absorb his perusal and attempt not to tremor.

The dragon tattoo on his neck seems alive and fluid on his skin. With every tick of his pulse and draw of breath, the dragon expands and contracts. I’m mesmerized by the sight as much as I am terrified. Is it the drops of ink beneath his tan flesh that has caused the blackness within him or was it the blackness that spawned the winged seed?

“I expect what you gave me in the basement,” his gruff voice pulls my gaze back to his.

“I understand,” I whisper.

The elevator squeals and whines to a halt as we stare at each other. I’m terrified and he’s empowered. The distribution is equal and reactive.

“What should I call you?” I ask tentatively, not knowing if I’m allowed to ask questions or speak without provocation.

“Roman,” he breathes across my lips. “Say it.”

“Roman,” I gasp as he smashes my body flush with his, roughly palming my ass.

“Again,” he demands, glowering.

He wants submission. He wants soft and sweet. He wants what I have no idea how to give him. I don’t surrender. I don’t submit. I don’t relinquish the power I worked my ass off to gain. Until now.

This is not the real world. I have no power here. I already submitted. I’ve given him every demand and bowed to his commands. But he can’t touch my strength. I’ll hold it close to my heart and when I can, I’ll unleash it.

“Roman,” I say softly, offering him everything I can.

“When I’m inside you tonight, I want to hear you say my name just like that,” he purrs before pressing his lips to mine.

I’m back with Sully the instant he touches me. I never should have let Sully win that day in his backyard. I could be wrapped up with him somewhere warm and safe instead of here, being dry humped by a stranger that will kill me sooner or later.

“Boss,” a low voice barks, breaking our kiss.

“What?” Roman snarls, uncurling from my body.

“Kieran Delaney’s on the phone,” the man replies.

Roman extends a hand behind him and quickly swings that hand, phone in palm, up to his face. With his free hand, he interlaces our fingers and leads me out of the elevator down another exit-less hallway. I look for the man that just interacted with Roman but find we’re alone again.

I ignore Roman’s conversation. I don’t know anyone named Kieran Delaney and based on the smug look on Roman’s face when he was informed who was on the phone, Kieran’s worse news that Roman is.

When we get to a door at the end of a ridiculously long hallway, Roman eases me against the wall and holds me in place, arm fully extended and his hand against my chest. His face is turned away from me as he makes some kind of deal. I try to steady my breathing as I become concerned the phone call could be about me. What if Roman’s plans for me are to serve me up to his crime friends like a buffet special of the day? I may have just signed up for more brutality than I ever dreamt possible in life. And I’ve spent a life being fed violent dreams. I’m no longer being fed dreams. I’m now surviving a nightmare.

Natasha

Roman ends his phone call and runs his tattooed fingers down my arm before grasping my bicep with force. Each finger is inked with dragons, open-mouthed, seemingly devouring his scarred knuckles. Between his neck and his hands, the man might as well be covered in scales.

I allow my body to be dragged beyond the copper metal door. Roman closes it with a startling bang once we clear the threshold. After being held in a basement, transported in an ancient elevator and dragged down long unremarkable hallways, I’ve decided this building is a warehouse or factory. This room isn’t in a warehouse. It’s a penthouse in Manhattan. The walls are deep sable grey with black and white photographs of landscapes lining them. To the right is an entryway to an office anchored with a colossal horseshoe mahogany desk, ornately detailed.

Moving past the office, Roman leads me to a sitting area with two wingback crimson suede chairs. The couch is long, patterned in charcoal and burgundy tweed. The floors are polished concrete, luminescent from the recessed lighting twenty feet above in a ceiling of deep ebony wood panels. The overall feeling the space creates is warmth. I’m chilled to the bone.

As I finish taking in my immediate surroundings, Roman steps in front of me, pinning my arms at my sides as he engulfs me in a tight embrace. I stare mindlessly straight ahead at the dragon eyes peering at me from beneath his chin.

“I have business to attend to. You’ll stay here and get ready. Don’t be foolish, Natasha. I’ve got plans for you tonight and I’d rather have them go accordingly. This room is secured, monitored and guarded. Don’t test me,” he orders menacingly.

When I don’t respond, Roman encapsulates my throat in his fingers and shoves my jaw up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His inky eyes pierce mine as painfully as two daggers would. I stand helplessly in his clutches within his opulent residence and wait. All I can do is wait.

“Are you going to make this difficult?” he whispers harshly.

“No,” I gasp out, struggling to speak as his hand holds my jaw shut.

Roman studies my face while his grasp remains firm. He’s not cutting off my air supply, just scaring me and making it difficult to take a deep breath. He’s exerting his control, his dominance.

“I don’t rape women,” he starts and releases the pressure on my throat. “I am going to fuck you, Natasha. When I do, you’ll be a willing participant. I won’t hold you down. I won’t tie you to my bed. I won’t hit you. I will see to your pleasure before my own.”

I nod as he pauses for my response.

“If you do anything other than what I desire tonight or any other moment, I’ll feed you to my men. They enjoy raping women. They enjoy cutting soft flesh, burning sensitive areas, ripping pieces away with their teeth, testing the limits of how many can devour you at once and they will. I’ll tell them to do their worst and then bring you to me when they’re done. And when they’re done, I’ll make what they did look like child’s play. I won’t rape you, Natasha. I’ll obliterate your soul and watch it struggle to free itself from your ruined carcass.”

Tears are racing down my cheeks as I listen to his promises. They’re not threats, they’re assurances. I believe him. I trust him. I’ve never trusted a man in my life other than Blake. I trust every word Roman utters. There’s no lie, no question. This is a fucked realization and makes me cry harder. What’s worse is as I bawl, I lean into his chest for comfort. And the monster holds me in his wicked arms and allows me to sob.

When I get calmed down enough to draw less ragged breaths, I look up into Roman’s face. The two small tattoos at the edge of his left eye draw my attention. The stars look delicate against his tanned skin and instead of making him look scary they appear to be a part of him, like a birthmark.

“Where’s the baby?” I ask in a weak voice.

“Doing his job,” Roman states plainly, rubbing the wetness from my face with his thumbs.

“Can I have him back?”

His midnight eyes flare minutely before the edge of his mouth tips.

“I’ll consider it.”

I shrink dejectedly. I have no idea what kind of job an infant has and at this moment I don’t want to think about it. Blake will come for me and when he does, we’ll both die. If I die, whatever is happening to Junior will continue to happen to him and God knows how many others. I wish I was a selfish person. I wish I could say I’ll just give up on this life and fight to the death with Blake. I’m not. I can’t. There’s no way I can abandon Junior. As long as I’m here doing what Roman wants, Blake isn’t in danger and I’m guessing the baby is okay too.

I lived eighteen years at my mother’s behest. I can do this again. If I have to sacrifice my power in order to keep people safe, I’ll do it. I’ll be Roman’s puppet. I’ll stay by his side and play the role he wants until I don’t have to play anymore. Eventually, this will just be my life. A life of what I’m not sure, but I’ll be alive.

“You can’t hurt Blake. I’ll stay with you. I won’t fight you. I won’t run. I’ll do everything you say. I swear to you. But Blake and my mother stay safe and alive,” I say in a strong tone.

“You’re not in a position to dictate what I do,” he growls in return.

“I know I’m not. I can’t be what you want if you’re gonna murder my brother.”

“I will be killing your brother, Natasha. I told you that already. The fact that you’re trying to bargain with me says you’re not understanding how this works. Let’s go back to the basement for a while. You’ll understand better,” he finishes coolly before violently grabbing my hair to drag me.

I scream and dig my heels in, using both my hands to hold onto the hair he’s fisting. It’s a fruitless effort against his strength.

“No!” I screech. “Please, Roman! I’m sorry. Please!”