Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Eleanor
Blood of my blood.
T here’s a moment when you first wake where there is no pain, no fear, no regret. Then reality barrels into you and you wish, more than anything, to go back to the land of dreams. Or to at least stay suspended in that peace. Perhaps it’s how the mind focuses. We know what is possible, so we then spend every waking moment trying to reach it. My brow furrows as consciousness seeps into my bones. Life is a messy rollercoaster, not an oasis, and right now, I have been delivered straight to the depths of Hell.
I will survive it—I’ve done it before. I suck in a deep breath, force my heart to slow, and take stock of my body, realizing I’m unharmed.
The smell hits me first. Damp. Sex. Despair.
Time to face my demons. My eyes blink open, and I squint at the bright light swaying from the ceiling of the otherwise dark room. Why is it moving? I blink hard, trying to clear my vision. Must be the aftereffects of the drugs. I twist my hands, finding them still bound behind my back with the crappy metal cuffs. I sit on a slick wooden chair, facing the man who takes center stage in all my nightmares. He relaxes in his chair, a sadistic look coloring his eyes. For so long, he dominated my every waking thought, controlling every subconscious decision. Now, he has been replaced with a man who gifts me the stars.
Jonathan tilts his head and lets his gaze trail over my body. The cool air skims my skin, a muscle in my jaw feathering at the sensation. I’m naked. He smirks at the tattoo, his eyes leaving an icy trail along my flesh. “Color me surprised. My sweet Eleanor has not only marked her body with ink, but defiled it with metal. Did you get a taste for pain?”
My eyes narrow, unable to hide the disgust I harbor for this man. No, I got a taste for taking back my body, and each one of these is an act of power. A reminder I am in control.
I force my face to relax. We are alone, and I worry for Steph, but showing that won’t help. He already knows I care; no need to draw more of his attention to it.
He leans forward, invading my space and propping his chin on his hands. “Play the game, Eleanor, or I will be forced to get creative.”
I lift my chin and grind my teeth. Bring it. The longer I hold his attention, the better.
My gaze registers the sparsity of the room. Only one door, no windows, and the walls and floor look like they have been recently washed. How reassuring. I tilt my head a little, accepting I can’t see behind me.
He tsks as he stands and stalks toward me. I can survive anything. I have to keep breathing. He kicks open my legs and drops to his knees, drawing something metal out of his pocket.
“Hold still.”
His fingers prod at my pussy, and I suck the side of my cheek between my teeth, clamping down and allowing the coppery taste of blood to distract me from whatever he’s doing. Cool metal digs into sensitive flesh, and I fight to stay still. “A little tighter, I think,” he mutters, intentionally loud enough for me to hear. The pain increases with whatever the fuck he’s doing, but it is external—and for that I am grateful.
He rises and goes to the side of the room where a number of instruments hang on the wall. Typical BDSM tools like whips, canes, and restraints, but also pliers and hacksaws gleam in the swinging light. The washed room suddenly makes sense, and cold realization washes through me. My heart thuds against my ribs as he selects something and returns, keeping it from view as he stalks toward me. He chuckles at my continued silence, then angles a mirror between my legs and wraps his other hand in my hair, forcing my head down to look.
“It’s a clamp. Nothing too bad to get us started, but it exposes your clit and pussy. A simple but effective tool. Plus, if I do this—“ He releases my head, but I can’t look away as he fiddles with something. “It keeps the pressure on and increases the pain.”
“Awesome.”
If he wants my participation, he will get it. But not how he hoped. The longer he spends trying to break me, the less time he has with Steph and the closer Hunter will get.
Keep breathing.
It’s just my body. He can’t have my mind or my heart.
“You grew prettier with age,” he purrs as his fingers trail down my cheek. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you.”
“You grew old. Tired.” I drop my eyes to his waist. “Soft.”
The backhand happens so fast, it only registers after the fact. I lick the blood from my lip and grin at him, hoping my teeth are stained red. “You’ll have to do better than that, Johnny.”
He steps away and grabs two belts from his wall of tools, binding my knees to the legs of the chair and tugging on the clamp. A hiss leaves my lips against my will, making him smile.
Then he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather through the loops with a snap. Been there, done that. I can disassociate like a pro. “You had me fooled at the club. I knew there was something familiar about you, but I couldn’t quite grasp it in time. Then you escaped. That was your mistake.”
“Escaping seems like a you problem. Perhaps you need new staff.”
“Take a breath, Eleanor, this is going to hurt.”
The first lash makes a scream tear from my throat, the unfamiliar shock breaking my conditioning. By the fifth, he’s panting, a growl tainting his breaths, and I’m locking away the agony inside the vault I never fucking open. He taught me to adapt quickly or suffer more correction. His frustration at my lack of response is his doing.
“The problem with your escape is how you slipped through the fingers of my best trained man. The most loyal soldier I created.” James. No good deed goes unpunished. “I couldn’t fathom how he made a mistake, so the question became not how you escaped, but why.” Another lash. Keep breathing. Bright stars flicker around the edges of my vision. He will come for you.
Jonathan steps to the side and fire blazes across my breasts as he releases his anger on my body. “Then Christopher tracked you down, but your alias led to a thousand different avenues, none of which made any fucking sense. So I asked myself, ‘Who would have the means and motivation to protect their identity so ruthlessly?’”
His belt clangs to the floor as he inspects his handiwork, pulling at the piercings on my nipples until I cry out. He tilts his head, and I watch manic delight enter his gaze. Fuck. He unbinds my legs and grips my elbow, lifting me out of the chair with ease. My legs wobble like a newborn foal, each step sending a blaze of fire scattering over my flesh.
“Kneel.”
He puts pressure on my shoulder, and I drop down to the ground with a growl. “Put your pathetic dick anywhere near my mouth, and you will lose it.”
His laughter echoes around the miserable room, the black walls soaking it in like they absorb all emotions splattered across their surface, storing the memories and bearing witness to the anguish felt. No amount of scrubbing will erase the horrors they’ve witnessed. There is no redemption here.
“Not today, Eleanor. Soon. Once I’ve shattered your mind into a million pieces, you will choke on my cock and not fight me if I choose to suffocate you with it. I wonder if you take it as well as your mother.”
I tilt my head back and spit in his face. He smirks as he wipes it away with the bottom of his shirt. Death is too fucking kind for this abomination. He needs to suffer.
He reaches for a set of silver chains on the wall and drops them on the floor in front of me. He winks as he clips two hooks to the piercings in my breasts, then loops the other end through a metal hoop embedded in the floor and pulls, forcing me forward until he connects the final hook to my clit piercing. My knees widen to prevent me from face planting the fucking floor as I find myself completely at his mercy.
Mercy. What a joke. He has none.
He gasps, the sound too loud to be genuine. “Almost forgot. Don’t want you spoiling the surprise.”
He pushes a ball gag between my lips and yanks the strap tight. Tears pool along my lashes as he covers my head in a thin black cotton hood, hiding the room completely from view.
Breathe.
His shoes move away, and I twist my hands in the cuffs. If I can find something small, I can pop these suckers. There’s a screech of metal, and my limbs freeze in fear. “James, you’re needed.”
Footsteps thump against the metal floor, and the door clangs. “New girl?” James asks, his voice impassive. Bored. Dull.
I close my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. Fuck. “She needs to be broken in.” The way Jonathan instructs him, with no hesitation or sadistic glee, makes all the blood drain from my face. My brother’s done this before.
“Move her to my room.”
“No. I received a request for a viewing. She fits the client’s needs, but he prefers them without the disobedience and fire she’s showing. Fuck her. Hurt her. Break her, then we can sell her.”
I jerk in my restraints, but the chains holding me hostage tug painfully at my body. I try shouting his name, but drool drips down my chin. It’s pointless. Tears cloud my eyes. This. Cannot. Happen.
James sighs. “Fine, but I don’t like an audience. You know that.”
“She spat in my face. I want to witness her break. Do it, James.” A tense stillness fills the room. “Now.”
There’s shuffling behind me, and I jerk my head, trying to shake the hood free. It shifts, and a body moves behind mine. Please, please, please, recognize me before it’s too late. A warm hand grips my hip.
“Lube?”
“Do her dry.”
A muffled sob tears free.
“Condom.”
“She’s clean. Do it.”
The hood shifts a little more, the side of my face slipping free. The hand on my hip tightens painfully as a finger brushes along the indents in my ear.
“What the fuck?” he whispers. My shoulders sag and another sob breaks free. But he’s revealed too much. He knows.
“What are you waiting for?” Jonathan snaps.
James scoffs, his fingers trembling against my hip. “I’m not in the mood.”
Thank God for limp dicks when forced to fuck their sister. My heart squeezes. He cares. Whatever he’s done, he still has a slice of good in his soul that wants to protect me.
Breathe.
“Take a fucking Viagra.”
That doesn’t work instantly, right? It will take a little time. Enough for Hunter to find me? My body shudders. Not fucking likely.
The hand leaves my hip and cool air kisses my spine, goosebumps painful along my bruised flesh. There’s a heavy sigh.
“Forget it. I’ll do it myself,” Jonathan drawls like it’s an effort to rape a woman.
How fucked is it that I am relieved by this turn of events? I can come back from this. I wouldn’t if my brother did as ordered.
“Stay and watch.”
Witness my shame, brother, and watch as I use it to slaughter the man you follow. It has eaten at me for a long time that James stayed with Jonathan. I’m sure with his rise in the ranks, he has had ample opportunity to leave. More freedom means more trust. Yet he stays.
Jonathan’s footsteps come close, and then he’s behind me, his fingers between my legs as he tightens the clamp. “Don’t want this coming off,” he taunts. “Part of the fun is the pain.” He leans over my back, his lips at my ear. “You think he’s not getting off on watching me fuck his sister? Your brother has sick tastes, Eleanor. He enjoys ripping someone’s ass open for the first time. It’s his specialty. When he’s feeling extra vindictive, he’s been known to use a spiked cock ring. It tears the surrounding tissue, not enough to be fatal, but leaving permanent scarring.”
In.
Out.
Breathe.
Hunter’s face forms in my mind, and I use it to anchor me. I picture him cupping my face, his breath against my lips. “ Stay strong, trouble. I am coming for you .”
A tear breaks free and falls to the floor. Another horror for the room to soak in.
There’s a flurry of movement behind me, forcing the hood to drop to the floor. I glance over my shoulder, finding Jonathan pinned to the wall with a knife at his throat.
“We had an agreement. Not. Her.” James’s hand shakes with rage. “Never her.”
Agreement? The cogs in my brain click, the pieces of the puzzle coming together, and another sob catches in my throat. He stayed to protect me. Oh, James…
Jonathan spits blood onto the ground. “That was before she walked into my club like a lamb to the slaughter. All bets were off the moment she came sniffing around.”
“Let her go.”
“She’s going to be my next wife. We’ll finally be one big happy family.”
Let it happen. I’ll murder him in his sleep.
James punches the wall, and Jonathan leans forward, the knife nicking his skin. “Fucking do it, you coward.”
Do it.
Jonathan smirks as he glances down at me. “Your sister has more balls than you. If she was in this position, my blood would already be coating her chest.”
Loud banging echoes through the room, and James sighs, stepping away. What the actual fuck? Kill him.
“Enter,” Jonathan shouts.
The door opens, and one of the men that helped kidnap us walks in. He doesn’t even bat an eye at me. I guess bound women are a normality around here.
“Client is five minutes out.”
Jonathan kneels and unclips the chains, releasing me with an amused tilt of his lips. “We can leave the clamp on.” He winks as he hauls me to my feet. A groan rumbles in my chest as my muscles protest, and I curse myself for giving him the satisfaction of my pain. He unbuckles the gag. “No need for this. The cat is out of the bag now. Well, almost.”
He snaps his fingers, and a woman is pushed into the room. She is somewhere in her fifties, frail, and so weak she nearly collapses. But she’s strong enough to lift her identical gaze to mine.
A sob wrenches free, my knees slamming into the floor once more. “Mama?”