Snare (Delirious book 1) (29 page)

“You own me. I do not own you. There is a clear difference.”

I smile. “Oh, but you do, Miss Carrigan. You just don’t know it yet.” I tap on my chest, at the place my heart is at. “Here.”

She snorts. “I don’t believe it.”

“Why not? You’re a delightful woman, if you’re not trying to tear me apart because of what I did. You have to know that I stand by what I say; I might keep you a prisoner, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you are attractive. Charming. Seductive.” The more words I add, the more her skin glows. “I care for those I call mine.”

“How many have there been?” she asks.

We walk into the building. “Not many. I don’t often bring women home. They don’t particularly enjoy the same kind of passion as I do.”

She laughs. “Go figure.”

“Are you laughing because you don’t want to believe you actually like my kind of sex, or because you’re ashamed of it?”

She frowns. “I am not.”

I raise an eyebrow as I push the button of the elevator. “Really? Because that flush on your face tells such a different story.”

The line between us moves, the slight tug vexing but oh so erotic. I love it when she pulls as if she can still retain her independence. She crosses her arms and pulls up her nose.

“Shall we go inside?” I ask holding out my hand. “Women first.”

“A gentleman to the outside world…” she mutters as she puts her foot forward.

I slap her ass as she enters the elevator, making her squeal. “A beast in the bedroom,” I add.

The annoyed look on her face is priceless as I stand beside her, watching the doors close. I press my floor’s button and wait patiently for the elevator to start moving. She tips forward on her feet, balancing between her toes and her heel, whistling a tune that’s familiar to me. Too familiar. The sound makes my skin crawl. My blood turns to rage.

Before I know it, my hand has her vice-gripped against the wall by her neck, her breaths short and heaving, as she suffocates under the pressure.

It’s the sound of death.

Accompanying Song:
“XL-TT” by Sawano Hiroyuki

With one hand, I pry at his fingers, my other clawing at his face. My throat is closed off, and I’m unable to breathe. I’m suspended in the air, fighting to stay alive. Seconds seem like minutes, my life ending as time passes. My head is spinning, but I know that if I don’t do something now, I might lose. I was prepared to give up my freedom for safety, but I am not prepared to give up my life. My life is mine and mine alone to take.

“Shut up!” he yells in rage.

Gasping, I kick him in the nuts. He makes an
‘oomph’
sound, and his hand loosens its grip on me, allowing me to shove him away. My knees land on the floor and I reach for my throat, gurgling. Crawling up, I back up to the door, far away from him. I bang and bang, desperate to get out. Of course, it won’t help, but I have to try. Anything to get away. It’s not safe.

I hear his steps moments before he grabs me by the waist and slings me away, pushing me against the wall of the elevator.

I squeal as he places a hand over my mouth, grabbing my wrists tightly behind my back. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, from this monster who changes from ice cold to raging fury in a matter of seconds; a beast who wants to hurt me.

“You had to go and whistle that song, huh?” he whispers in my ear, causing me to whimper. “Wrong decision.”

With fury, he shoves up my dress and rips off my panties. His hand lands on my ass before I can count to one. I squeal, almost biting his hand. He smacks me, again and again, until my ass is sore, and then he moves to the other cheek. Tears well up in my eyes as I struggle to stay put, but his muscles are too strong for me to fight back against. He has me locked into a corner, and I’m left to endure his merciless onslaught. I bite down on my lip to prevent the tears from flowing, unwilling to give him my weakness. I won’t show it to him. I am
not
sorry. I did not deserve this. Whatever messed-up problem he has going with that song I whistled is not my problem; it’s his.

His whacks become increasingly harder, more painful than anything I’ve felt before. My skin burns and my senses go out of control from the pain. I writhe in place, taking each blow after another until I can’t feel it any longer. After a while, his breathing tempers, and so do his hits.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks.

I pause then shake my head.

He smacks me again, making me jolt up. “Why? Why do you resist?” He slaps my other cheek. “Do you want this to continue?”

I shake my head again.

“Then why won’t you listen? Huh? I could hit you until you bled, no holds barred. I could go on and on until you wouldn’t be able to stand. You could
die.
How far are you willing to go?”

He takes his hand off my mouth slowly. “Answer me.”

“Until you say you’re sorry.”

“For what?”

“You never told me I couldn’t whistle. You never warned me this would happen. I don’t even know what I did wrong. You choked me and then you assaulted me. You should be the one to say sorry.”

For a moment it’s quiet, and then I feel the grip on my arms lessening to the point of him completely moving away. My breath is warm, soothing to my skin. I still can’t feel a thing around my ass, and my legs are wobbly from the pain, but I won’t move a muscle. I don’t turn around. I will not face him. He doesn’t deserve my gaze.

“I should have told you before.”

“Yes, you should. And you have no right to touch me like that.”

“I have every right to teach you to obey me.”

“This is my life.”

“It is my body now,” he says. “And I will do with it as I wish.”

“To the point of killing me?”

“If I must.”

I scowl against the wall. “You’re disgusting.”

He muffles a laugh. “You’re right … I am.”

It’s silent again, and then the most peculiar thing happens. He hugs me. He seriously hugs me from behind. “I guess it is me who is the insane one.”

“Yes … yes, you are,” I whisper after a while of just standing there, being hugged. I don’t understand a thing about Sebastian anymore. His arms wrap tightly around my body, squeezing the air out of me before he steps back again and takes in a huge gulp of air.

Gritting his teeth, he rakes his fingers through his hair. “God … I’m so … so fucking angry … all the time. And now I have taken it out on you.”

“Why? What’s so wrong about me whistling?”

“Don’t … don’t you remember where you got the tune from?”

“N-no…” I hesitate. I’m too afraid to admit that I don’t even know how this tune came into my head. Still … it doesn’t warrant him choking me.

“Why does that make you want to hurt me?”

He sighs. “I couldn’t tell you, even if I wanted to.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“Because it isn’t safe, for neither of us …” He breathes in my neck, planting a short kiss on my shoulder blade.

“I’m sorry, my little fairy. I should’ve warned you … not to make me angry.”

He places another damp kiss on my skin. I try to hold still and ignore the pain in my ass. “I’m a monster, but I don’t want to be. Help me become a better man. Let me take care of you. I want to make this right.” His hand moves down my back, smoothing down the dress. When he reaches my ass, it aches, and I hiss when he softly caresses it.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” I say.

He grabs my ass and squeezes it, setting the skin on fire. “It could hurt … in a good way if you let it.”

“You hit me. That isn’t good.”

“You’re right, it isn’t good. I am not good. But neither are you. We’re both bad … so bad … we’re perfect for each other.”

“Perfect for a life without freedom…” I murmur, still shivering from his touch.

“Freedom can be achieved in more ways than one,” he hums. “Let me show you.”

He nuzzles me, smelling me, before planting another kiss on my shoulder. “I must admit, I am starting to grow fond of your presence, Miss Carrigan.”

“Glad one of us is.”

“Oh, come now, you can’t truly believe you don’t feel a thing, right?”

“I feel pain. Anger. Sadness. Not love.”

“Pain can become pleasure if you let it,” he says, rubbing my ass. “Your anger shows me where it’s gone wrong. Your sadness shows me where I can fix things.”

“I wanted love,” I say, repeating what I told myself over and over again.

“No … you wanted me,” he murmurs close to my ear. His body presses against mine, his cock poking in my ass. “And I’ll do everything in my power to make you remember it.” He pulls me away from the wall as the elevator doors open. However, we’re not on his floor.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he takes me through the hallway, leaving my panties in the elevator.

“I’m going to show you more about me.”

“Outside of your apartment?”

“This whole building belongs to me.”

The way he says it, like it doesn’t mean he has tremendous wealth and power, sends prickles up my scalp. I try not to feel intimidated as he shows me the rows and rows of numbered doors, each with a label on them, and instead try to remember everything I see. The labels confuse me; they make no sense.

Circus. Auction. Seaside. Zoo. Farm. Forest. Hospital. Poolside. Butcher’s shop. Movie Theatre. Fire station. Candy shop. School. Bakery. Police station.
A gazillion places, never the same once. Each door has a tiny window through which I can see the room. The labels match what’s inside; they all look like movie sets.

My eyes widen as I gaze inside the Morgue room. Blood is everywhere.

I gasp, but before I can scream, Sebastian places his hand over my mouth. “Don’t. Nobody can know you’re here. If you want to know more, be quiet.” He waits until after I’ve nodded before taking his hand away.

“What is this?” I ask in shock.

“Fake blood,” he says quickly. “More importantly, I run an exclusive club. These rooms are all part of that.”

“What should I be thinking of now?” I say, pointing at the wooden cross on the floor in the
Church
room. There are metal cuffs attached to it, and on the wall beside it is a rack filled with floggers.

“A club for those who like to live out their fantasies,” he says.

“Like a BDSM Club?”

“No. We are not Masters, Doms, or Sirs, or any of that kind. We don’t obey rules, and we aren’t always safe, sane, and consensual. Like I said, it is rather … exclusive.”

I swallow. No wonder Sebastian acted the way he did when he took me home. It’s what he’s used to—claiming girls without permission. No rules. No boundaries. Just wild men and lusty women.

Taking my hand, he guides me further down the hall. Each hallway leads to more doors, like a never-ending maze.

“How many of these rooms are there?”

“About five hundred.”