Savage Desires (Black Rose Doms Book 3)

Chapter 11

I watch Willow sleep.She fought it for a long time despite being exhausted. Without her telling me, I knew it was because she was worried I wouldn”t be here when she woke up. I promised her I wouldn”t go anywhere. She”s been sleeping for several hours, but not peacefully. It”s obvious her dreams are plagued by nightmares.

Even though I know I should keep my distance, I can”t seem to walk away. In fact, when she first started whimpering in her sleep, even the chair across the room was too far. I pulled the chair to her bedside so I could be closer. Whenever she shows distress, I stroke her soft hair and whisper reassurances. It calms her every time and makes me feel like I can slay all her demons.

I want to slay them. I want to make every man who dared touch her pay. The depth of my rage knows no bounds when it comes to avenging Willow. I can”t even fathom the things she”s been through during her six years of captivity. They fucking sterilized her when she was still a child, for Christ”s sake.

She”s not the first woman I”ve saved with a similar story, but she is the youngest. I”m not sure why the fact that she was so young when they did it makes it so much worse, but it does. Children are taken every day and made to suffer atrocities that would give anyone nightmares. I know it. I”ve seen the aftermath dozens of times.

Willow admitting to being sterilized with such shame in her voice and written all over her face will be something I never forget. Victims should never be ashamed of what other people force on them. Yet, they blame themselves for being taken. For being beaten and raped. Sold and debased. They take on responsibility for things that are beyond their control.

It”s fucked up that victims like Willow blame themselves for anything. It”s one of the reasons we started Hope House. Once we realized how hard it is for the women we save to reintegrate into their lives, we knew we had to do more. Matthew, Slade, and I built them a safe haven to heal and grow. A place where they can find their way back to themselves or find a new version of themselves. Whatever they need.

The women I helped last night will rest here for a few days. We will tell them their options and facilitate whatever they decide to do. We let them know there is a home for them for as long as they need and a full range of support. Everything is taken care of, from basic necessities to therapy services. They help them get their diploma, if required, as well as a college education. They even offer career advice and job placement.

In some cases, we help them create an entirely new identity. It”s disgusting how many times we”ve helped women and children who were sold by their families. The only way they could truly be free is to become a phoenix. The old them dies and is rebuilt into the person they want to become.

I wonder what Willow”s story is. Will she need a new identity to disappear forever, or does she have a family looking for her? Six years is a long time to be a missing person. If she had a family, would they still be looking, or would they already have made peace with the fact that their daughter is gone forever?

Will she want to find her family immediately or go to Hope House? Both options make me irrationally angry. I don”t want her to leave. I don”t give a fuck that it”s the right thing to do. I want to keep her, and I can almost fool myself into believing she wants to be kept because she doesn”t want me to leave her side. It”s a ridiculous thought because no matter how much I want her, I”m no good for her.

Willow shifts on the bed and makes a pained sound. I”m there immediately, stroking her hair and murmuring to her.

”Kisten?” she says sleepily, blinking her beautiful blue eyes open.

”I”m here, beauty.”

”You stayed.”

”I told you I would.”

I stroke my finger down her arm, causing her to shiver and goosebumps to break out over her pale skin. I tangle my fingers with hers and give them a little squeeze. She looks from my eyes to our entwined fingers and back again like she”s trying to do a math equation she doesn”t understand.

”Thank you.”

”You don”t have to thank me for anything, beauty. Anything within my power is yours. All you have to do is ask.”

She smiles shyly. ”You”re too good to be true. I”m starting to wonder if I”m still in the cage, and this is just another delusion my brain has conjured up. Surely, there”s no one like you in the real world.”

I let out a growl. ”Cage? What cage?”

She cringes away from my angry tone but doesn”t release my hand. It”s proof that even though she knows I”m mad, she knows she”s safe from that anger. She”s so damn strong. I”ve never seen anyone come out of what she has with so much fire inside them.

”It doesn”t matter,” she whispers.

”It matters. Everything that happened to you matters.”

She sighs. ”It”s a punishment at Mecca. They lock you in a cage in a room that”s pitch black.”

As far as punishments go, it doesn”t sound that terrible, but from the haunted look in her eyes, I can tell she”s not telling me everything. ”Tell me everything,” I push.

”The cage is made for a dog. There isn”t enough room to sit or stand. I”m lucky to be so small because I can curl on my side and lie down. Most of the girls have to stay on their hands and knees the whole time.”

”And how long is the whole time?” I ask through gritted teeth.

”A day, two… a week. It depends on how badly you pissed them off,” she says resigned.

”You thought being here is too good to be true. That maybe you were still in the cage. What happened?” I ask, but I have a good idea of what happened to her. If it”s a recent punishment, it could”ve been my fault for interrupting the scene last week.

Fuck!

”After Madame came and got me that night, I was locked in the cage for five days.”

”Five days?” I choke out, feeling both horrified that I was the catalyst for her punishment and deep-seated rage at the bitch who locked her in that cage. They will all pay for what they did to my Beauty.

She shrugs. ”It could”ve been worse. Besides, I had you with me.”

I want to ask more about that, but Gladys knocks on the door, shutting down our conversation.

”Good morning! I”ve brought breakfast. I didn”t know what you would feel up to, so I stuck with basics.”

I meet her halfway and take the tray. Gladys smiles at me and pats my arm. ”Such a good man.”

Willow watches our exchange quietly, a small smile ghosting her lips.

”How are you, dear?” Gladys asks her.

”Better.”

”Do you need anything? I”ve got my daughter going to the store to gather supplies later. I wasn”t expecting so many guests.”

Willow frowns. ”I”m sorry to be a burden. I don”t need anything. You”ve already been too generous.”

Gladys scoffs. ”Child, you are no burden. I”m glad to offer a safe place for you to heal. My daughter will get the basics for all of you. Clothes, shoes, that sort of thing. Is there anything else you would like?”

She looks at Gladys like she grew two heads. ”I don”t need that much. I can”t repay you.”

The ever-patient Gladys pats Willow”s leg. ”Hon, there is nothing to repay. If it makes you feel any better, the money isn”t mine. It comes from bastards like the ones that took you.”

Willow”s eyes widen with fear, and I hate it. ”It”s okay, beauty. When we take down trafficking rings, we destroy everything. Drain every account we can find, set fire to buildings, and eliminate the people in charge. We funnel that money into places like this. We use their own money to help the same women they stole to earn it.”

”Oh…”

”See, hon, nothing to worry about. You”re safe with us. We”ll take care of you. We turn their dirty money into something good. With that in mind, is there anything you”d like?” Gladys asks.

She bites her lip like she”s trying to keep from saying what she wants.

”Come on, beauty. Tell me what you want.”

”Clothes and shoes and stuff are all I need… but I would really love a notebook and a pencil… If it”s not too much trouble. It doesn”t have to be fancy or anything. Or if you have one here already, even if it”s partially used. Or just some paper and a pen…”

The longer Willow talks, downplaying what she wants, the deeper Gladys” frown gets. I know opening her home to women like Willow takes a toll on her. She loves doing it, but seeing someone worried about asking for something as simple as a notebook and pencil makes it hit home differently.

Not everyone is like that, though. Some women go crazy asking for their favorite snacks or hair products. One woman asked for a camera. She wanted to take pictures to prove she was free, like living it wasn”t enough. She needed proof that she could see. It wasn”t enough to be outside sitting on the grass, she needed a picture of her on the grass for it to sink in that it was really her life.

Everyone needs something different.

”Do you write?” Gladys asks.

Willow blushes. ”I draw. Well, I used to… I might not be any good now. It”s been a long time.”

”Then we will get you that notebook and pencil,” Gladys says with a smile. ”You guys eat up before breakfast gets cold. The others are downstairs if you feel up to joining them later.”

”Thank you,” Willow says quietly.

When Gladys is gone, I arrange the tray on Willow”s lap. Her stomach growls, making her blush.

”Eat up, beauty.”

She doesn”t waste any time picking up her fork and taking a bite of scrambled eggs. She lets out a moan of pleasure that shouldn”t be as sexy as it is. Jesus. I should not be getting an erection for this woman. The last thing she needs is me making her uncomfortable with my wayward dick.

”These are so good,” Willow says, taking another bite.

I watch her eat, enjoying how she savors every bite. Her eyes practically roll back in her head when she takes a bite of bacon. Don”t get me started on the sound she makes. A man could die happily while trying to coax those sounds out of her with his face buried in her pussy. I”ve never been jealous of food before, but apparently, this woman makes me feel all kinds of things I”m not used to.

It doesn”t take long for her to stop eating. Like last night, she looks at the food left on the plate guiltily. I can understand it. Many women in her position were denied food or given the bare minimum to survive. I”ve never understood it. The people who traffic these women are making money from selling their bodies. Why starve them? They are essentially damaging their own moneymakers with malnutrition and abuse. It seems like bad business, but anyone who buys and sells another human being obviously sees them as disposable.

Willow takes another small bite of eggs, chewing slowly. She will eat until she makes herself sick so she doesn”t waste anything. I could tell that about her last night, which is why I finished her food. I take her plate from the tray and quickly eat what”s left. She watches me curiously.

”Why do you do that?”

”Because I don”t want you to make yourself sick trying to finish every bite.”

She blushes. ”Food is too precious to waste. You don”t have to eat it, though. I can just eat it later…”

I scowl. Willow shouldn”t be worrying about saving breakfast scraps. It just adds one more thing for me to be pissed off over.

”Can I clean up and see the other girls?” she asks.

”Of course. You don”t have to ask to do things anymore, beauty. You”re free to do whatever you want.”

”It doesn”t seem real…”

”I know. It”s going to take time, but you”ll get there.”

I watch her slowly maneuver herself out of bed. I want to swoop in and pick her up like yesterday, but I”m unsure how she would take it. I don”t want to be overbearing. She”s much steadier on her feet today but obviously still weak and sore. Considering how hard she fought me, the run through the woods, and being attacked by two men, I”m not at all surprised. A lesser person would stay in bed and ask to be waited on hand and foot.

Not my Beauty. She”s stubborn and strong.

I find Willow a change of clothes, keeping an ear out in case she needs me. I hear the toilet flush and then the sink running. A few minutes later, she comes out holding a hairbrush. She shuffles to the bed and sits on the edge.

”I found some clothes that should fit if you want to change.”

She gives me a shy smile. ”Thanks.”

”Want help?” I ask before I can think better of it.

I”ve never once wanted to brush another woman”s hair. As a dominant, I”m well versed in aftercare, but this is different. Taking care of Willow feels essential to me. Since I first saw her at Mecca, I”ve had this need to keep her safe and care for her. Seeing her in the auction and realizing how close I came to never seeing her again just multiplied that need. Now that she”s here and safe, I want to keep her that way.

Willow doesn”t respond right away. I can see indecision warring on her features. Some piece of her wants to be taken care of, and another is probably scared that every kindness she”s given comes at a cost. She”ll learn that”s not the case. I take the hairbrush from her hand and sit beside her on the bed. After a long look, she turns so her back is to me. She”s stiff as a board at first, but after a few minutes, she relaxes.

Even after her hair is silky smooth, I continue to brush it. She”s more relaxed than she has been since I brought her here, and I want her to stay that way. Eventually, she turns towards me with wide, thoughtful blue eyes.

”Thank you, Kisten,” she murmurs.

Her voice is still rough from being strangled, but it”s getting better.

”You don”t have to thank me, beauty.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, tracing my fingertips down her cheek. ”You ready to go downstairs?”

”Will you go with me?”

I cup her face in both hands, looking her in the eyes. ”I”m not going anywhere without you.”

It”s then that I realize just how much I mean those words. I don”t know what the hell is happening to me, but walking away from Willow isn”t happening. Keeping her is wrong. She deserves a better man than me. One that can give her soft and sweet. That”s not me, but I can”t let her go. I should do the right thing and disappear. Let Gladys set her up at Hope House or send her back to her life before captivity. The mere thought of either of those options pisses me off.

She closes her eyes and tilts her face into my palm. My heart clenches in my chest, surprising me. I thought it was a dead lump in my chest. Meeting Willow has woken up a side of me I thought was dead and gone when I left home years ago. This little slip of a woman has done the unthinkable.

I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her breathless in thanks for making me feel this way. At the same time, I want to spank the hell out of her for making me feel so much. I care for my friends like they are my brothers and their wives like my sisters, but this is so much more. It”s all-consuming. Obsessive.

”I should get dressed,” she says quietly, opening those fathomless blue eyes that suck me in.

I stand and pull her to her feet. Instead of giving her privacy, I lift her t-shirt over her head, stripping her. Willow doesn”t protest when I kneel and help her into clean leggings and a better-fitting t-shirt. Even though it”s the smallest size in the drawers, it”s still too big for her small frame.

I decide then and there to do whatever it takes to get her back to health. I will ensure she eats every meal, including snacks, until she”s no longer skin and bones. She will want for nothing for the rest of her life. She”s mine now. It”s a terrible idea and unethical to keep her, but her fate was sealed when I saw her on that auction block… even before that. I”ve been obsessing over her since that night at Mecca.

”Come on, beauty. Let”s go see your friends.”

She frowns. ”They aren”t my friends. Not really.”

That confuses me because I got the feeling that the five women they auctioned off knew each other. They definitely knew of each other because there appeared to be a comfort level between most of them that went beyond a shared night of horror.

”Do you know them?”

”Yeah… The five of us came from Mecca, but you don”t exactly make friends there.”

”How so?”

”We are mostly kept apart, and it”s everyone for themselves when it comes down to it. My cellmate, Georgie, was my only friend.”

”What happened to her?” I ask, hating the sadness in her voice when she talks about her friend.

”She”s still at Mecca, as far as I know.”

”How many women are there?”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. ”I”m not sure. After an auction, they get new girls. I think there were twelve left after they sent us to the auction.”

Anger like I”ve never felt before bubbles up inside me at the reminder of the auction and what could”ve happened to Willow had I not been there. Talking about this is obviously upsetting her. I need to know everything she knows about the operation so I can help the other women and shut the bastards down, but I don”t want to push her right now.

”Let”s go downstairs. We can talk more about this later.”

”Why?”

”Because I”m going to help those women and shut the whole operation down.”

Fire sparks in her eyes, and I can see the desire to get revenge burning inside their blue depths. I get the feeling that she will want to be involved in taking those bastards down. I want to give that to her. With the way she fought me and how willing she was to handle a knife and gun, I know she will be able to hold her own. With a little weapons training and time to get stronger, she will be a force to be reckoned with.

I can”t wait.

I lead her out of the room and to the stairs. She”s moving slowly from all the abuse her body experienced during her escape. When she grimaces, I scoop her up and carry her down the stairs. She doesn”t protest, but she also doesn”t relax against me like she did last night. She asked to see the others, but now she”s tense, and her heart is racing.

I”m not sure why she”s on the verge of panicking, but I don”t like it. I don”t know what her relationships are like with those women. Were they some of the ones that looked out for just themselves to the detriment of others? I don”t like the thought of putting her in an uncomfortable situation.

”Beauty, you don”t have to see them right now. If you want to rest in your room, I will carry you back upstairs.”

She takes a deep breath and relaxes against my chest. ”I”m okay. I can do this.”

”You can do anything. You”re the strongest person I”ve ever met,” I say honestly.

She lets out a soft sigh and nuzzles her face into my neck. I have no idea if she realizes she”s doing it, but my fucking cock is rock hard. I grit my teeth, cursing my dick for being so damn responsive to her every touch. It would probably terrify Willow to know how much I want her. She”s been a fucking sex slave for six years, for fuck”s sake. I”m a bastard for even thinking about her that way.

Instinctively knowing she won”t want to look weak in front of the others, I let her down at the bottom of the stairs. I guide her to the living room, where the other women are spread out, watching TV and quietly talking. Lexis is curled up on a chair in the corner with a book. Gladys said she”s keeping her distance from the others and seems to be the least traumatized by her situation. Probably because she chose to be a prostitute at one point and was able to disconnect in a way that the others weren”t. It”s not unheard of, at any rate. She”ll be offered therapy just like everyone else to deal with her trauma.

”Willow!” one of the women squeals and rushes up to her. Willow winces when the other woman hugs her.

”I”m so glad you”re okay. They told us you were but wouldn”t let any of us see you.”

She pulls Willow further into the room, and the other women greet her with relieved smiles. I feel like an asshole for keeping them away when they were obviously worried, but I”ll gladly wear that title because the last thing Willow needed was a bunch of traumatized women crying over her as she tried to rest.

”Are you okay?” the woman I have been calling Weeper #1 asks.

”I”m fine, Stacia. Just sore.”

”Gladys said he wouldn”t let us in to see you,” Tabitha, the boldest of the women aside from Willow, says.

Willow looks at me with appreciation, not scorn. She”s glad that I kept them away. I don”t know much about my Beauty, but I know she doesn”t like to be seen as weak. She showed more strength the night I saved her than I”ve ever seen from any other woman we”ve saved.

”Wasn”t much to see. I slept most of the time,” she says, trying to calm their ire.

”We were just worried about you,” Lucy, also known as Weeper #2, says.

Her words are correct, but she sounds disingenuous. Gladys told me she”s very manipulative and entitled. Her eyes fill with tears, and she looks on the verge of another crying episode.

Gladys is the most patient and kind person I know, yet Lucy and Stacia are weighing heavily on her nerves. She”s helped many women over the years, and it never gets easier, but these two take being a victim to the extreme. And they are picky as hell. They didn”t hold back when Gladys asked if there was anything they wanted beyond the basics. They”ve also complained about the food and lack of internet.

Apparently, they haven”t been in captivity long and are ready to return to their former lifestyles. We haven”t discussed the next steps with any of the women yet. We wanted to give them a couple of days to rest first. Now that Willow is up and around, we will sit them down and give them their options.

”No need to worry. Kisten has been taking good care of me.”

She looks over at me with gratitude written on her face. I want to tell her not to look at me like that because keeping them away was not just for her sake but selfishness on my part. I wanted to keep her to myself. Having anyone else put a claim on her in any way is unacceptable. I knew if I let any of these women upstairs, they would make a nuisance of themselves and would have freaked out at the thought of a man—even the one that saved them—cleaning her naked body while she was unconscious or helping her shower after she woke up. It was probably morally wrong to do those things, but I”m already going to Hell, so what”s one more strike against me?

Willow”s attention is drawn back to the others as they tell her everything she”s missed out on while resting. Feeling like an intruder, I back out of the room to give them space. Willow turns, pinning me in place with a look of panic. Considering how she”s asked me repeatedly to stay with her, I kick myself for nearly sneaking away. Of course, she would freak out at me leaving without a word.

”I”m going to help Gladys in the kitchen. It”s right through that door,” I say, pointing to the doorway on the other side of the stairs we came down so she knows I won”t be far.

She swallows thickly, her body tense. I can see the protest on the tip of her tongue, but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens her eyes again, the panic is gone, and that strength she constantly shows me fills them.

”Okay. If she needs more help, I will help out too.”

I frown because there is no way in hell I”m letting my woman do anything close to work while she”s still healing. I won”t tell her that, though. She would probably practice her knife skills on me if I did. She likes me taking care of her and doesn”t want me to leave her, but insinuating that she can”t do something would be a terrible mistake.

”I”ll let her know. If you need anything, let me know.”

She nods while gifting me with a small smile. Before I can talk myself out of leaving her alone with the others, I force my feet to carry me away. Every step feels like it”s pulling me apart. Is this how Matthew and Slade feel when they are away from their women? Surely, they aren”t riddled with this same level of obsession. They lead normal lives. Sure, they work with their women and keep them close, but this need seems much more intense. Something deadly. I can see myself ending the lives of anyone who even considers thinking about keeping us apart.

Yeah, my obsession is dark and twisted, just like me. Hopefully, Willow will accept it because when the others go to Hope House or home in a few days, she”s staying with me.

Forever.