Collateral Damage (11 page)

"Too late." He went to pinch me again, paused, and then simply stared at me.

"You trusted me when I cuffed you. You rejected my offer when I made it. What changed?"

"Those!" I jutted my chin in the direction of the needles. "I wasn't expecting—"

"Just one." He released my skin and then circled the tip of his gloved finger over the spot. "If it's worse than being cut, I will stop and get a knife."

How sweet of you.
"Can't you just fuck me?"

He shook his head, pinched, and then pierced my skin with the needle.

Sudden. Intense. Sharp—I inhaled—the pain lessened, spread, then . . . heat. A light, throbbing heat. Such a tiny bit, like a drop of hot water—not even hot enough to burn. Nothing really.

Exhaling, I lifted my head and looked at the little thing, stuck in my flesh. The long needle made a bump in my skin. A bead of blood formed where the tip protruded.

Vince kissed my cheek and whispered. "Well?"

"It's not . . . horrible." I experimented with a deep breath and wrinkled my nose at the slight tugging. Didn't hurt. Just felt strange. "But I don't understand."

"You will." He exposed another needle and swiftly lanced a bit of flesh on my abdomen, right by the first needle. "As soon as you surrender to the sensation. You've given in to me, Nicole. Of your own free will. What came before . . . ."

My eyelids fluttered shut as a third needle joined the other two. More heat than pain now, rippling outward. Goose bumps formed everywhere, and my nipples hardened.

"What comes after . . . ?"

The next sharp bite of a needle made me gasp. My toes curled as sweet, liquid pleasure pulsed through my veins. My stomach muscles tensed in anticipation. A prick, and then I was burning, melting.

"Doesn't matter." He drew his finger around the needles slowly, nudging them until it seemed he was stirring the molten lava that had once been flesh. "I could do anything to you, but I choose this. Penetrating your flesh in this way is erotic. You are my canvas. Living, breathing art."

More! More!
I whimpered, afraid I would slip from this place—this glorious place where I could evaporate and become something less than solid. Beyond the hell of being. A little more and I'd . . . .

More came. Endless, boiling ecstasy, taking me far, far away. Moisture spilled, and the mist of me swirled around it. In some distant part of my mind, I realized the moisture slicked my folds and that emptiness wanted to be filled. But didn't need to be.

Every time Vince touched me, I floated a little higher, yet beneath it all the sensation brought me to a familiar edge. One to which only he had ever taken me.

"Last one."

No! Too soon!
This couldn't end! It's mustn't. I didn't want to come back down.

Wasn't sure I could.

A brush of his fingers pushed me up and over. The last never seemed to arrive, but, still, something inside me erupted, and screams filled the room. My screams. I climaxed in a way that made me feel as though my body was coming apart. Little by little, I trickled into a form made up of nerve endings tuned to everything. The soft sheets beneath me, cradling my body like a cotton cloud. The slippery coating of sweat on my flesh, slick as oil. The solid press on my hips keeping me from bucking and flying completely out of control. And the restraints. The restraints scoring my wrists and ankles, keeping me grounded. Suddenly, grounded was good. If I flew too far, I might never return.

But do I want to?

Vince disappeared from my hazy vision of the room. I made a desperate, wounded animal sound. I couldn't lose him. If I did I would be gone. Forever.

The clouds I lay on shifted, and he returned.

"Where are you, Nicole?" He took my hand and anchored me to reality. Showed me I had substance. "Find the words."

Where am I?
The answer came.

"With you."
Am I?
I inhaled and . . . yes. I was with him. And nothing more. "I love being here."

"That's my girl." His voice swirled around me, deep colors, blues and greens, like a waterfall cascading into a forest. "What do you see?"

Before me, almost glowing, came a vision. Spirals taking form. Purple and black and red. I smiled. "A butterfly."

"Yes." He touched my cheek. His fingertips were wet. "It took fifty needles. I was afraid it would be too much for you, but, as the wings formed, I could tell you'd taken them and flown away. I wound the ribbons around and around and kept you from going too far. Are you still with me?"

"Yes." And what a place to be! I became the butterfly, tired of fluttering about aimlessly, happy to be caught and pinned down. "Don't let me go!"

"I won't." His tone deepened, became a heavy thing, easing me down. "But I will let you fly a little. Breath for me."

Air flowed in and around as he gently pulled the wings from me. I hovered over us, seeing each and every needle extracted, bringing me up and up until, true to his words, I was flying. He caught me before I could flutter completely into the ether, a place I feared because it was too far from here, where he was. Because I needed him. He kept me whole. And I must be whole, though I didn't know why.

"There we go. Come back. Slowly." He hovered over me, his tongue lapping up the lava covering me. His crimson lips curved as I pooled out of flesh and gave him everything. "Yes. That's it. Are you ready for more?"

Always.
Anything he could give me, I would take.

His lips and tongue brought me high. Higher. Then gentled and eased me down.

He went away. Returned. Water touched my lips.

"Swallow," he said.

I might drown!
But, no. My throat worked. Took in what it needed.

"Remember this." All around me, his words, his body, my center. "Whenever pain comes, this is where you must be. Above. Beyond. Never forget."

I didn't think I could.

Chapter Nine

Wake up!

My eyes shot open. Darkness pressed against me as I stumbled naked from the bed.

Where am I?
My raspy breaths seemed loud. I raked my fingers through my hair as my head spun. Dizziness lessened as air filled my lungs. I tripped forward and fumbled around until I found a dresser. Then I slid it open and buried my hand in soft fabric. I grabbed something—elastic waistband, cotton . . . boxers? Whatever they were, I put them on. In another drawer, I found a shirt. I pulled it over my head as I stumbled across the room.

My brain finally caught up.
You're in Vince's room. Safe. You should stay.

But the darkness . . . unnatural. Like being sealed in a great big box . . . I made a keening sound deep in my throat. I'd fallen into a freezer as a child. My father found me before I was in any real danger, but I'd been stuck there just long enough to develop a serious case of claustrophobia.

I knew I shouldn't leave Vince's room. He'd warned me to stay wherever he put me. But I couldn't. I couldn't!

My grasping hands reached a metal knob and turned. I flung the door open and fell into the dimly lit hall. On hands and knees, I crawled away before the gaping black space could swallow me whole.

Across from the room, I sat with my back against the wall and counted exactly one hundred and twenty seconds. Then pulled myself together.
I'm okay. I'm out.

And I felt pretty silly for panicking. What the hell was wrong with me?

Get over it.
I told myself firmly.
Now that you're out, go check on Alrik. Maybe you
can . . . .

A fabric whisper alerted me to a presence in the hall between Vince's door and Alrik's. I got to my feet, blinking and squinting until my vision cleared. Calm features, framed in thick, black waves. I retreated a few steps.

Maybe you should go back to Vince.

"Don't run away." Cyrus let his arms fall to his sides and stepped out of his slouched stance. "I won't hurt you."

"Since when?" I let out a gaspy laugh. "You'll do whatever you want to me. We both know I can't stop you."

"True. But I don't think you understand." He inched closer, stopping just out of reach. "I could make you not want to stop me. Just as Vincent does."

"He doesn't
make
me do anything." I sucked my teeth, feeling pretty damned sure of myself. No way would I let Cyrus mess with my head. "So far, he's the only one who's made me feel like a person."

"What a pretty illusion." Cyrus got so close I had to jam myself in a corner to keep from touching him. But then I was trapped. And too far from Vince's room to hope for a rescue unless I screamed. "Do you really believe it?"

"Yes." I dug my nails into my palms. Cyrus could do anything he wanted. I wouldn't doubt Vince. "If I have to believe anything, I will believe in him. I trust him.

He hasn't used me."

"He hasn't?" He brushed his fingers over the hidden butterfly on my stomach.

Pain burst over the wide wingspan, and I winced. "So you wanted this?"

I hadn't, but then I had. Confusion brought a defensive edge to my tone. "Don't pretend like you care about what I want."

"I wouldn't dream of it. But let me ask you this." He slid his hand down my side.

"Would it be better for you if I manipulated you as Vince has? Because I could. I could make you crave all the depraved things I enjoy doing to a woman. I could pretend to care. Make you believe you were safe with me. Make you forget about escaping."

"That's not what Vince is doing." My chin hiked up as I met his steady gaze. No way would I tell Cyrus I still planned to escape. Let him think Vince had me right where they wanted me. Stockholm Syndrome or whatever. "He's doing everything he can to make this easier on me."

Sliding his hand along my side, Cyrus nodded slowly. "Perhaps. And perhaps I should do the same. Why not make things pleasant for us both?"

That made me laugh. "You should have thought of that before you raped me."

"It's not too late." He bent down and pressed his lips to my temple. "I've more skills than Vince. If I use them, you'll beg me to take you."

My eyes shot to the door of Vince's room. All those skills—couldn't he sense my absence?

Cyrus' face blocked the door from my sight. "You haven't even considered it, have you? He can read your mind—you know this."

"And?"
Shit. What if Cyrus can too?

No, no, no. Reality was fucked up enough. I refused to acknowledge the possibilities. If I did, I would be trapped.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

I snickered. "You're not serious."

But as his lips hovered over mine, I couldn't help wondering what they'd feel like. A creepy, crawly sensation spread over my flesh. Instincts screamed objections.

Part of me insisted I shouldn't let anyone but Vince kiss me if I could help it.

Still, my mind whispered,
Why?
And I didn't have an answer for it. My tongue trailed my bottom lip, and I swallowed as I looked into Cyrus' eyes. Beautiful and deep.

The blue of clear skies. Where I could soar away from here. Why not find another place to escape? He was right. Vince had given me that for selfish reasons. I owed him nothing.

My mouth watered as I glanced at his sensuous lips and imagined what he could do with them. "Would you?"

"Yes." Cyrus pulled me against him and kissed me.

Lips and tongue claimed me, delving deep, breaking past all my flimsy barriers.

Arousal blazed to life in my veins, an injection of pure lust. I clung to him as he held me up and licked my lips. Then he sucked on my tongue, flicking it with his own until the sensation worked its way between my thighs, latching on to another place that would enjoy this man's hot mouth. And his mouth was hot. The blazing heat of passion, something I hadn't felt in a very long time.

He groaned and pressed his hands to the wall at either side of my head, breaking the kiss. "Enough. If we don't end this now, I'll drag you back to my room, and you'll miss the point I was trying to make—"

What point?
My whole body shook with pure, desperate need. "But—"

Cyrus pressed his fingers over my lips a shook his head. "No. Some other day, perhaps . . . . Come, I'll let you look in on Alrik. Then you'll return to Vincent. He won't wake once he's fallen into a deep sleep. If you don't think of it, he'll never know you left his side."

"You won't tell him?"

Eyes sparkling, Cyrus leaned close and gave me another quick kiss. "Not a chance. If I did, he'd make sure you couldn't sneak out again. And I wouldn't want that."

My cheeks flushed. I was already thinking about the next time I'd sneak out. For some reason, it felt like I was overlooking something important, but I brushed all that aside. This . . . thing with Cyrus reminded me of the naughty fun I'd had in my teens after my father . . . died. Slipping out to meet a boy my mother wouldn't approve of.

The bad boy we both knew could get me in all kinds of trouble.

Of course, Cyrus was a bit more dangerous than any of them.

A bit?

"Come, Nicole." He caught my hand and led me down the hall. His thumb circled my palm, and I shivered. He stopped in front of Alrik's door and smiled at me.

"Hurry up before I change my mind."

I swallowed, nodded, and moved away from him. After I opened the door and squinted into the darkness at the skinny, little boy hidden under a mountain of blankets, reason seemed to click into place.

What was I doing? How could I even consider . . . ?

"He's been doing a lot better lately." The heat of Cyrus' almost feverishly hot body spread over my back and down my thighs. He pressed against me, wrapped me up in his arms, and whispered in my ear. "Such a good little boy, learning to do what he's told. Were the children at you daycare this well behaved?"

"No." I closed my eyes as resistance curled up and hid in the recesses of my mind, utterly useless. "He's special."

"Yes, he is." He made a gruff sound and closed his lips around my earlobe. A light tug with his teeth brought a whimper from my throat. His grip tightened, but then he let me go. "After you're done teaching him tomorrow, come find me. I'll send Vincent somewhere so he won't interrupt us."