Seize me From Darkness (Pierced Hearts Book 4) (12 page)

The more I did, the more my stiffness ebbed. I’d be sore later though.

“So.” I straightened and kicked my pillow onto the bed, scoring a brilliant goal on the headboard. “Does this mean I stand a chance at taking out a guard?”

The hesitation said it all.

“No?”

“No. I wouldn’t try it unless it was one on one and you were truly desperate
. You’d lose against these guys, but it’s worth knowing. We’ll practice over and over. There might be a chance, one day.”

“Sure.” Gingerly I sat on the bed. “I figured as much.” I sent him a wry smile.

“Now it’s your turn. Game?”

“
Uhh.” I scrambled to think. Word games? I scuffed aside the tiny, thin rug next to the bed. “We could do hangman on the floor. Draw in...” I searched the room. “Water?”

“I doubt that’d be much use. About all we have is blood.”

It was a joke, I reminded myself, but the space between us seemed to shrink.

“Fuck. Sorry. Bad choice.
”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. It was.”

I could never completely escape the reminders of why I was here, locked up. Though I was getting good at shoving them away and carrying on. The pain, the beatings, would return when I was washing my hands, or just eating a meal, or in the boring times in between. They’d flash in and I’d freeze up then push them away. Life went on. I guess people always needed hope and some sort of normality, else they’d curl up and die.

I wasn’t dying, not yet.
Never give up. Never give in.

We ended up playing fast, with water. Speedy
noughts and crosses. I beat him more often than not. It made me grin, even laugh once when he slapped his forehead and flopped backward, groaning at his mistake.

But I never forgot, e
ven with him sprawled on the floor drawing
X
’s and
O
’s with his wet finger, like a small boy messing about with his sister. He wasn’t a small boy. He was a big, powerful man and a sadist, who liked hurting me when given the chance.

There was blood between us.
And sex.

With him this close, I wasn’t sure which of the two bothered me the most.

When I took a shower that night, I couldn’t tell if he looked away the whole time, and when he showered, I peeked. Impossible not to. My throat went dry for all the wrong reasons watching water pour down his hard body.

Guess I’d gotten too used to a soft bed. The floor kept me awake
. As it made various bits of me go numb, I’d shift and manage to numb somewhere new. At around three in the morning, I sat up. I ended up with my chin in hand, elbows on knees, studying her.

I was sure she had no comprehension of how guilty I felt.

For years, I’d lived with the mess I’d made of my life after my brother was killed. I’d thought I’d reined in the dark side of me. Ever since the murder, I’d run from one crazy thing to another, but I’d never abused a woman like this.

How did I reconcile this with my
soul? Yes, I’d been forced to do it. But...

The room was rendered in dark sifted
, tones of gray. Her toe twitched underneath the sheet and she mumbled something. Truly, she was sweet, and innocent, and I was the biggest, baddest wolf in creation.

Excluding Gregor.

I hung my head and grabbed the top of my head with my hands, staring down at the vaguely moonlit floor. If I’d been presented with a case like this in South Africa, I’d have been inclined to arrest myself and let the lawyers sort out who was guilty of what. Legally, I was probably clean, but morally I was fucked.

I
let go and stared at her again, at the curvaceous length of her body. The tropical heat made sleeping under a sheet impossible most nights. She was lying on her side. Even asleep, I’d heard her whimper if she shifted onto her back. That was my present to her. I lay down and closed my eyes.

What was I going to do?

Keep obeying Gregor, that’s what, because the alternative was worse and something I knew might be inevitable, considering where Gregor seemed to be heading. I might have to kill her – if she begged me.
Fok.
Not good. I wondered if she’d thought of it yet. Probably not. If she was like most people, she’d be subconsciously avoiding that thought pathway.

Though a
t times, when unawares, I’d caught her staring at nothing, with a haunted look on her face.

I hadn’t seen the police officer she said had been tortured, but I’d heard him. My instincts, along with what had happened so far, told me Gregor and his client weren’t going to be happy with simple beatings and sex. What if she never asked and it became too much even for me? Could I kill her?

I put my hand across where my heart must be. It actually hurt contemplating doing that. Maybe there was hope for me yet. Of course, if I did it, they’d kill me afterward.

The day’s activities ran th
rough my head. Games. We’d played eye spy even, and managed to find things we hadn’t known were in the room. Like cracks in the wall. It had been ridiculous but fun. We’d both ended up laughing, for a while forgetting the circumstances of our imprisonment.

Yet another side to this woman.

I smiled in the dark. If the men I’d commanded had seen me doing that they would’ve poked fun. I recalled her hesitant giggle, the curve of her ear when she bent to stare at the cross I’d drawn with water, and the glimpse of what lay between her legs when she forgot to keep that skimpy dress pulled down and her thighs together. Not that I didn’t have that etched into my memory already.

I glanced over.
She’d wedged her arm under her pillow and was muttering into the pillow. I lifted my head to look at the quiet lines of her face. I doubted I could kill a woman. Not Jazmine. Already I knew her too well. She seemed so vulnerable in these empty hours of the night...and so passionate when she was tied up, whipped, and welted with my marks.

Jesus.
I’d done some of the nastiest, kinkiest things I’d done to anyone,
ever
, to her. My cock swelled at the thought.

I sighed and rolled over. This was going to be a long night.

Morning came. Her eyelids rose, and she focused on me, peeking suspiciously, frowning, like she’d found a lion on her bedroom floor.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Wincing, she levered herself onto her elbow then rubbed at her eyes. Her smirk seemed to take in more than just me as a person. There was a distinct sexual vibe to how she studied me. Interesting. “Have you drawn my bath and polished the Rolls Royce?”

Someone had decided I was safer than she’d thought
I was yesterday. Good. I wasn’t about to remind her of my bad side.

“The only bath I’ve ever drawn was proba
bly with crayons when I was six, but if you want to lend me a Rolls, I promise I’ll polish it.”

“Hmm.” She swung her legs down. “Not sure I’ll trust you with my car yet.”

There was a subtle psychological message in that. Trust. All my cop interrogation techniques came to the fore. Win their trust then get them to spill their guts.

Domkop
.
She’s a fellow prisoner, not a criminal. Still. I did need to see her back.

I eyed her from under my brows,
and decided not to take the bait. We could dance around a bit more with that idea before I’d push it.

I sat up and scrubbed my hands through my hair, stretching out some of the cricks in my back and limbs.

“
Blêrrie
hell. I’m going to suggest we swap tonight. You can have the floor.”

Her flippant,
“Wrestle you for it,” as she stood, made me wonder why
she
was pushing this. It was almost like she was flirting.

I climbed to my feet too.
“I doubt you’re fit enough for that.”

And I could
beat you with my little finger, have you pinned to the floor, squirming under me
.

Fok
.
The notions she gave me, almost every five seconds.

Looking down at her, did what it had a few times since they’d stuck me in this room with her – reminded me of her in that other room.
But I wasn’t some cave man governed by his dick. I could just say no and leave it in my imagination.

“Turn around
, Pieter. I need to use the toilet.”

“And after that, I want to look at your back.”

“No.”

I
angled my head and she shrugged.

“I’ll put some ointment on myself.”

As if she could reach properly.

Soon. Soon I’d get her to let me. It was pretty essential.

I was pleased that she didn’t look at all as if she doubted I’d look away. Except, when I went over to piss, I had the distinct feeling that she was staring at me. After years in the force and in the jungle fighting terrorists, my sixth sense was damn reliable.

For
all that day, I didn’t push that I was supposed to see her back, or not much. The woman was stubborn and scared of me touching her. Even so, I also knew Gregor would make sure to follow through if he had the glimmer of a doubt that she’d disobeyed him. And his punishments had a habit of getting worse.

I was close to grinding my teeth down in frustration by
nightfall. Sleeping on the floor again while she lay a few feet away, unattainable, and tossing and turning as if in pain, only made me get up in the morning, grumpy, and determined to examine her back.

My one problem –
this meant more to me than simply looking at the whip marks. It was why I was so conscious of keeping myself in check.

When she had a shower that night
, I sat on the bed and stared in the direction of the door. To look or not to look? I was being stupid. Not pushing the issue because I had other motives was all very noble but it was still dumb.

Merely
sitting opposite her, talking, had been enough to steam up my brain. With her flimsy dress on, she was tantalizing. Having fucked her twice, I could imagine a lot.

I steeled myself and
I turned my head.

Hot woman alert.

She stood under the shower, facing away from me, with water streaming over her naked back. Jazmine left me in danger of swallowing my tongue. My dick shot up so fast and so hard I could’ve used it to shoot down planes. Her wet hair was plastered to her skin all the way down to her waist. The lower edge was like an arrow, slipping about in the water, and pointing straight at the tempting split of her ass.

With great effort, I ignored the memory of my hands on
those gorgeous mounds
. Her back. Check that.

Blue-black bruises but also
one deep red area.
Shit.
Who knew if the whips and other implements here ever got cleaned? I needed a closer look.
No ulterior motive, just common sense. If I asked her, she’d want to hide herself and I didn’t fancy that soapy wrestle, not really. I’d do something I’d regret with her under my hands.

This could turn out so bad.

What man wouldn’t get an erection looking at her nude? It was normal.

I stood quietly
and stalked over, zeroing in on the dark red streak. If it was a bacterial problem, she’d be sore, wouldn’t she? I wasn’t certain but redness after this much time might mean infection.

Excuses, excuses.

Then I reached within an arm’s length away from her and knew I would have to touch. With water cascading over the area, I still couldn’t tell.

She was humming to herself, oblivious.

Shooting fucking terrorists was easier.

If I spoke, she’
d jerk away, turn, cover herself, argue.
I’m an ex-fucking cop.
But...this was for her own good.

I nearly gave myself a brain hernia turning this over.

“Jazmine. Turn off the water so I can look.”