The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2) (19 page)

The words quivered from my mouth as I said what he wanted to hear over and over again as though my life depended on it, hoping if I said it enough times, he’d release me.
Pain is the pleasure of love, and love is the pain of pleasure. 

“Are you ready for the pleasure?” His lips touched my ear. His voice was gentle and teetered on erotic. “Tonight, I’m going to show you how much I love you.” 

Taking care with my body, he picked me up from the water and transported me to the bed. I landed softly against the mattress. Spreading my legs, he slipped down, placing gentle kisses down my abdomen. My body was riddled with agony; the slightest touch brought about an excruciating sensation. The pangs superseded any ability to have an orgasm. Whether he tasted me, or cradled me in his arms, and plunged into me—carefully, slowly, adoringly—there was no pleasure to be had.

Hovering over me, he watched me as a creeping look of satisfaction displayed itself across his face. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him as the tears steadily streamed down my cheeks. “I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you, and it’s why I hurt you so much.” He clasped his hand to my neck with hardly any pressure and pressed his lips to mine. “Circumstances have changed. My needs have changed. I need you to love me as much as I love you. No one ever has. I need you to love me, and I need you to become my wife.”

I was thrust immediately from one emotion to the next. I couldn’t dissect what I felt; I didn’t want to.

Stark naked, he pulled out of me and lifted off the bed, disappearing for a while. When he returned, he held two white pills in his hand and a glass of water in the other. Lifting my head through my winces, he placed the pills one by one into my open mouth and tipped the glass of water to my lips. He stared at me as I glared at him. His lips moved as though he had something to say but couldn’t find the right words to verbalize it.

On the brink of his phone ringing, he released me and reached across the bed to grab his phone. He became visibly agitated over whatever he saw. 

Preparing to leave, he left me with his last words of the night before he disappeared, “There are only so many times you can pretend to be something you’re not before the real you cracks through. You need this, princess, as much as I need it. You breathe for me like I breathe for you. Stop holding your breath, thinking you will survive without me.” He delayed and dropped his chin. His eyes were shielded by his dark, thick eyelashes. His words were barely heard, “The devil’s whispers are quieter when I’m with you.”

“I had to lose everything to gain something more valuable.”

-THE SECT

The quiet. The stillness. Only the sounds of my strained breaths filled the grand space. I was thankful Noah left in such a haste, he’d forgotten to take my phone from me.

I was left alone to deal with what I no longer could. How stupid was it to think we could somehow survive in the real world? How further inane was it to think that Noah had a good side? Noah made me into the woman he needed, but when the woman I used to be began to return and wanted different things, he tried to suppress her.

Once I regained slight mobility without fending off the urge to scream, I called Nathan. The natural expansion of my back, to breathe normally, and any subtle movement brought on a debilitating ache. The salt-water bath remained in my wounds, throbbing and sending signals of anguish to my nerves. 

THE GRIND OF THE elevator resounded. I relaxed as well as I could. I only wanted a reprieve, and Nathan promised he would bring me enough medication to numb me to sleep. The footsteps emanating from the path away from the elevator shaft weren’t of one man, they sounded as if they were a dozen.

Mortified, I sobbed and tried to reach my phone, but it was beyond the reach of my short span. I began to scream aimlessly for help.

“Keaton,” a familiar and smooth voice wrapped me in its silk and lulled me into quieting down.

“B-Braedan?” My voice barely traveled. “Oh, God. No.” I squinted my eyes shut, hoping to be magically transported out of my embarrassment.

“Shh,” he soothed me. He pulled the sheet up my naked body, partially covering my nudeness, leaving my scarred back exposed. I was thankful that he did. The soft material would’ve felt like a scouring pad against my wounds. “May I sit?”

My body shook with sobs and the anguish rifling through my body brought about more cries.

“I know you called Nathan to help you,” Braedan told me, “but unfortunately I was the only one who could. Noah…has sent packages to all your friends. Even if they weren’t deathly afraid to help you directly—the security downstairs would’ve been difficult for them to get past. It’s the reason I was contacted. I have a…history with Lem and was able to get through. With me are a doctor and a few individuals from my private security team.”

More footsteps were heard. A gray-haired man in an expensive suit bent down on the side of the bed I faced. 

I closed my eyes and buried my face into my pillow. “I can’t believe Nathan—”

A soft hand reached up and caressed my wrist. The scent of his peppered citron cologne calmed me. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was. Braedan’s gentle touch was akin to his voice. When I opened my fingers, he slid his fingers into the spaces and closed his fist around my hand. 

I never thought I’d feel the sensation again. I was sure my body had been permanently shut down and would never experience anything good again. But with Braedan, it was so strong it nearly overcame the torturous spasms. It was tender and disclosed a silent promise of safety, created a sense of serenity from within. Keeping my eyes closed, I reveled in it. His touch healed me at the surface, making the intense discomfort a little less by helping me to see the things Noah tried to destroy—my happier memories.

He moved my other hand, directing my fingers to feel something on my pillow. My phone. “Who do you want me to call?”

“It’s already been done,” Braedan replied, the smoothness in the tonality of his voice amplified.

“Braedan,” my mother’s desperation was palpable through the speaker of the phone. 

“I’m here, Mrs. Mara,” Braedan replied.

“Thank God. Tell me you have her.”

“I can confirm that I am with Keaton.” Braedan remained still at my side. “She’s understandably scared. Can you say something to alleviate her fears?”

“Keaton?” my mother called out, fighting through her sobs. “It’s okay. Your friends and people who care about you are all here with me. We called Braedan because no one was able to get to you, and he promised me he could. The man is a godsend… We’re going to get you out of there and back home.”

“Mrs. Mara,” Braedan delayed with his words, “I’m going to have to take Keaton to the hospital, she’s in…a very bad way and needs medical assistance in a sterile environment.”

My mother gasped over the phone. “Keep my baby safe, Braedan.” She was on the verge of breaking down; she kept it together enough to state her parting words.

“As I promised you, I will.” Braedan ended the call.

“Keaton, I’m Dr. Moore,” the gray-haired man who was at the other side of the bed said to me. “I’m going to administer a medication that will make the pain a little less and allow us to transport you to the hospital. Do I have your consent?”

“Braedan?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Trust us, Keaton,” he assured me. “We only want to get you out of here and keep you safe.”

“I can’t go to the hospital,” I fretted. “People will find out, and it will ruin my mother’s campaign…and they will find out the truth about me.”

“What truth, Keaton?” Braedan asked.

“That I’m weak.” My words were soft, barely audible.

The pressure of his weight shifted on the bed. “You’re not weak. Not in the least. Give us permission to help you, Keaton.” 

“You have my consent,” I told the doctor.

Dr. Moore gripped my arm and fixed something tightly—a tourniquet—above the crook in my elbow. The prick of a needle preceded my sudden comfort. 

“I don't want anyone to see me this way,” I whimpered to Braedan. 

“Then…you won't see us.” Braedan moved slowly, slipping his hand from mine. His clothing rustled. I felt the silken material slip in front of my face. I lifted my head a little, allowing him to blind me with the soft dark material. He gently tied it in the back.

“I’m going to roll you over and take you downstairs to my car. The law enforcement officials are going to escort us there and ensure Noah and his associates—if they are around—won’t be able to follow. Are you ready?” Braedan’s methodic disclosure of everything he was going to do defrosted my cold tinges of shame and apprehension, tempting me to shut down. 

“Yes,” I acknowledged him.

Moving skillfully, he slipped the sheet up to the either side of my body to allow for modesty. He slowly rolled me over, ensuring I was completely covered in the sheet while slipping me into his strong arms. Unable to move, I slipped against his chest. My ear hovered over his heart, beating at a steady and calm rhythm.

THE SMOOTH RIDE AND the pain medication given earlier brought me into a calm, peaceful place. I clung to the butter-soft leather cradling me during the ride and rested my head against the cold glass of the door.

“You can remove the blindfold at any time, Keaton.”

“I can’t.” Balling my hands, I allowed them to rest in my lap. The slow rock of the car whenever he drove over a possible pothole or uneven patch of pavement caused me grief. 

I ran my thumb along the base of my third finger on my left hand. My ring was gone. I couldn’t find the emotion to worry about where it had disappeared to during my escape. I was relieved.

“I know who you really are.” I strained to breathe through my throbbing aches. “Nathan told me.”

The silence cut thickly. I reached out for him. The pull and ache of my wounds underneath the bed sheet serving as a dress and what I assumed to be Braedan’s suit jacket made sure I dropped my hand. The Italian wool jacket should’ve felt fine against my skin, but even with the numbing effects of the medication, it felt like steel wool. “I think the medication is wearing off.”

“We’re almost there,” he promised me, a touching and palpable level of concern swarmed his voice.

“What you probably think of me…”

A slow heat hovered across my lap. The touch of his hand gently pressed against the back of my hand. He slipped his hand over mine, repeating the same act that brought about a soothing, pleasurable wave earlier. 

“I think you’re an incredibly strong woman who was probably placed under forced duress. We all do things we’re not proud of to survive through the worst in our lives.”

“Better, stronger people don’t have to do those things.”

“We’ll have to disagree.”

I tackled the thoughts running through my mind. “What did he—Noah—have on my friends?”

“I don’t exactly know.”

“He had something on my mother. Doing this…it’s going to ruin everything for her.”

“I can assure you, no matter what it is, it will never be released to the public. I’ll make sure of it after I discuss things with your mother.”