That order is not a new one. It’s something he’s told me every single time I didn’t do as he expected me to. But he can kiss my ass. Better yet, he can go suck himself. And this time, I suck it up, and I tell him so.
“Go fuck yourself. You’re not the boss of me. And you’re definitely not my owner, my daddy, or my Dom. You are nothing.”
“Boy, I suggest you remember your place in this world. It wouldn’t take much for me to put you at auction.”
Howling with laughter, I look at him and ask, “What auction block? Your auction block and the Order all went up in flames because I blew it the fuck up.”
His hand comes from nowhere, smacking me across my cheekbones, his knuckles breaking the skin beneath the outer corner of my eye. He’s hit me so hard I can taste the blood in my mouth where my cheek has cut across my teeth. The coppery smell and taste add to the churning in my gut, and I’m certain I’m going to puke. Instead of showing him weakness, I gathered all the blood in my mouth and I spit it at him, covering his face in the reddish slime.
It runs down his face, dripping off the edge of his jawline onto his shirt. The droplets paint a gruesome picture. Looking at it and him, I cannot help but be proud, especially considering the look of disbelief on his face. It’s one of the funniest things I have ever seen.
I’m guessing he didn’t think I would ever fight back. But Draven taught me to fight back, and I’ll be damned if I go down without giving it my all, just like my daddy taught me.
He wipes his hand over his face, smearing the bloody saliva down into his beard and onto his shirt. His face is still incredulous and laughter bubbles up from within me. It’s not long until I’m cackling the picture he paints. My laughter washes over him. Rage fills him. I watch it happen as if he’s an empty vessel, and it’s being poured into him. His body goes stiff, his eyes harden, his mouth sets in a firm, flat line. I know what’s coming. Pain. A lot of it. I don’t care. He can beat me. He can rape me. He can sell me. But hewill notbreak me.
This time, he telegraphs his punch, and I see it coming. I duck out of the way, slipping underneath his arm and squeezing between him and the door. He howls as his fist strikes the stone wall of the castle inside the closet. I run as fast as I can towards the other door. I can still hear Draven beating on the door Samuel closed in his face. It sounds like he has his axes out and he’s hacking away at the wood.
I scream, “I’m still here, Daddy! He’s not caught me yet.”
His deep voice rumbles through the door, but I can’t make out what he said.
A bellow sounds behind me, and I know he’s on me. I can feel him breathing down on me. I keep running, determined to get away from him. Trying to give Draven as much time as possible to get to me.
Running past several tall plants in pots, I pull them over, tossing several smaller ones behind me, throwing some of them at him when I think I can actually hit him. Despite that, he’s closing in on me. I know it’s just a matter of moments before he can get to me. Passing by a worktable covered in tools, I grab something up. I’ve not a clue what it is, some sorta blade or shovel.
Samuel grabs me, surprising me, even though I knew it would happen sooner than later. Swinging whatever I grabbed from the table at him, I catch him across the chest with the tip. Our gazes lock and his eyes widen before he looks down. My gaze follows to his chest. Blood blooms on his shirt. Frozen in place, I watch the blue hue of the fabric deepen and cling to him.
His hand wraps around my throat, jerking me to him as a loud crack comes from the door Draven’s been beating against. My eyes fly to Samuel. Rage mottles his face, and he growls, “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”
I try to swallow the gulp his words trigger, but his fingers tighten around my neck, cutting off my oxygen. I struggle in his grasp, trying desperately to suck in some air as I stare into his smug fucking face. A smile creeps in, turning rage into glee.
Punching, slapping, and kicking him does nothing but make the smile grow and his hand tightens around my throat with every little bit of breath that leaks out of me like a boa constrictor strangling its prey.
The rhythmic thuds of Draven’s axes cease, only to be replaced by his voice screaming, “Fuck!”
As my vision dims, pounding footsteps retreat from the door and slowly fall silent.
“Looks like your daddy just deserted you,” Samuel sneers through a smirk.
He wraps his palm around my upper arm and drags me from the room. His nails bite into my skin, burrowing under the flesh painfully. I can already feel blood rushing to the surface and rolling down my arm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DRAVEN
I run toward my boy,as fast and furious as I can. My heart is in my throat, and it’s racing so fast I can feel the blood rushing through my limbs. I shove the budding panic and fear down. I dinnae have time for that shit. I’ve gotta keep my wits about me. It’s been ages since I’ve been in these passages, and even then, the atrium wasnae a place I spent much time or a place I used the passages for. Nae, I used them to get out of the castle so my parents dinnae ken where I was. So, I dinnae ken if I remembered the way.
When I reach the round room with all the hallways, I remember the plaques on the entrances to each corridor. I rush around the circle, passing the one I need, having to turn back when the words on the sign register several steps past the doorway.
Turning back, I take the passageway, and race towards the other side o' the building through the stone hallways. My footsteps echo. The staccato beat keeps time with my heart and breaths.
A reel o’ the past and present plays on repeat in my mind. First, Tavish’s face and then Simon’s flash like a flickering film projector, showing me all the things I love about them both. Theones o’ Simon are bittersweet, tinged with the grief of his loss. Tavish’s drenched in fear at losing what I’ve only just come to accept. The images keep pace with my heartbeats and steps as I both run away from and toward my boy.
The corridor stretches on and on in front of me until I feel as if I made a mistake and took the wrong one. I keep moving forward, pushing the self-doubt and mindfuck away that’s telling me to turn around. When the door comes into sight, I barrel toward it.
Kicking it open when I reach it, the latch and hinges on the door rip away from the frame, and the door crashes to the floor of the entryway. I step out of the passage onto the door, lying at my feet. The atrium is just steps away, but I hear Tavish screaming, and it’s nae coming from there.
Turning toward the back o' the house that leads out into the gardens behind the manor, I rush to him, jumping over furniture and knocking over things that are probably priceless. I dinnae give a damn about any o’ it. Tavish and getting to him in time is all that matters.
