Chapter Twenty-Six #3
Tearing myself from his sick embrace, I balled my hands and pummelled his chest. “I will never behave for you, you sick bastard!”
And then, the tears came.
Thick, wracking sobs of sorrow.
His eyes flared.
He reeled backward.
He backed away so fast, he crashed into the backgammon table, sending hors d’oeuvres smashing to the floor. Digging both hands into his hair, he tugged the strands as if desperate to rip out whatever mania lived within him.
He let loose a stream of French.
I couldn’t decipher it he spoke so fast, but I did interpret his torment. It matched mine. It made my delusions pause just for a moment.
Oh God.
W-What have I done?
Dropping his hands, his hair stayed in disarray as he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. “I-It’s late, Victor. I’m drunk and can barely see straight. I’ll shleep it off and—”
“Enough!” Victor bellowed, freezing all of us in place.
Fury painted him, rippling in his nightgown and filling his lambskin slippers.
“If you do not grab your jewel and strap her on the cross in ten seconds, Ward, so help me God, I will put a fucking bullet in both your brains. I’ve had enough of this ludicrous nonsense!
” Snapping his fingers, he waited for a guard to place a loaded pistol into his hand, then held it to my temple.
His eyes narrowed on Henri as he swayed on the spot. “Ten.”
I dropped to the floor and covered my head.
“Nine.”
Peter grabbed me and tried to pull me to my feet. “Get up, Ily. I’m so sorry. Get up, please—”
“Eight.”
I huddled into a ball and screamed as the world became a vortex. Every sense shouted and smothered.
“Seven.”
“Fuck!” Henri’s roar cut through the screeching in my head.
“Six.”
Strong arms wrapped around my middle and hoisted me from the blood-covered carpet.
“Five.”
“Put me down! Don’t touch me!” I kicked and cried. Screamed and twisted.
But it was no use.
Henri didn’t let me fight him off this time. His hold was full of iron and shackles as he carted me across the room and dropped me at the foot of the cross.
Victor followed, keeping the gun trained on me. “Four.”
“I’m doing it, for fuck’s sake!” Henri snarled, his hands quaking as he shoved my left arm out and secured my cuff to a hook. Rushing, he secured my right wrist and then my collar.
“Please. Please, don’t do this. Please!” I screamed and thrashed. “Let me go. Just let me go. I want to go home! I want Krish. I want my brother!”
“Three.”
“Motherfucker!” Henri growled as he dropped to his haunches and grabbed my ankle.
Instinct overrode me. Panic hijacked me.
I kicked him in the face.
The crunch of his nose.
The watering of his eyes.
Life stopped.
Everything went excruciatingly still.
Henri didn’t move for an eternity.
I heard plants growing in pots and flies buzzing around dead creatures. The moon waned and waxed, the sun rose and set before Henri finally sucked in a breath and tongued the streak of blood dripping from his nose.
His back shuddered as he inhaled hard.
His spine rolled as he curled into himself.
Without a word, his hands landed on my ankles, splaying my legs and fastening me, trapping me, buckling leather straps tight, tight around me.
“Finally.” Victor laughed and lowered the gun. “About damn time.”
Claustrophobia pounced.
I was stuck in a nightmare.
Trapped on a cross.
Forbidden from moving, hiding, running.
“No,” I gasped. “Let me go. Let me go!”
Ever so slowly, Henri stood.
Blood trickled faster from his nose.
The sane part of me—buried beneath drugged insanity—froze in horror.
I’m sorry.
So sorry.
I didn’t mean—
Sniffing loudly, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. With icy control and shut-down black eyes, he looked at the smear of red decorating his knuckles.
A primal, guttural noise rumbled in his chest.
He shuddered as if an earthquake tore through all his barriers, all his binds, all his perfected behaviour.
And in my mad delusions, I heard a crack.
I saw him fracture.
I witnessed a good man transform into a beast.
His chin tipped down.
His eyes grazed my lips, my nose, my cheeks.
And when they settled on mine, I no longer saw Henri Ward—the man, the cop, the saviour.
I only saw the man who would bleed me, rape me, kill me.
I broke.
Terror welled.
Tears flowed down my cheeks.
With calculated stealth, his fingers curled out and captured a single droplet. Slowly, silently, he brought it to his tongue and shuddered as he mixed my tear with the blood I’d already drawn.
Whatever cracked inside him flung its gates wide open.
Locks sprung.
Bars broke.
With a snarl, he fell on me.
His hand lashed out, wrapping around my throat. “I told you not to cry around me.” His fingers squeezed tight. “I told you not to fight me.” His tongue landed on my chin, licking his way up to my eyelashes, capturing every droplet of salt. “I told you what I truly am.”
And when his lips found my ear and dropped to a drunken whisper, he didn’t vow to keep me safe or beg me to play along with him. He merely sucked in a breath, nipped at my throat, and growled, “I told you what would happen, little nightmare. I told you what exists inside me. I told you.
“And now...I’m finally free.”