Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
IT TOOK ANOTHER month and a half before Master John returned. Whatever business he’d had overseas kept him out of their home for the majority of the summer, but time had marched on, relentless and determined.
Soon, Elsbeth and Forest found themselves on their knees, waiting on his arrival.
School would start in a couple weeks. Their senior year.
At eighteen, they would be legally eligible to exit the foster care system. One question remained though. After everything he’d done, would Clark Preston let them leave?
An arrangement had been struck between Master John and Clark Preston. Forest didn’t seem to be included in the deal. How did he plan on controlling her without the threat of hurting Forest? She was missing something. And what did Clark Preston have planned for Forest?
Clark Preston sat in the library, working on his case files. She had no idea what kind of lawyer he was. She didn’t care. And it never came up in idle conversation, not that the three of them engaged in chitchat.
She needed to focus on the here and now. Slow her breathing. Calm her heart. Tackle the nerves fluttering in her belly and channel that energy into something useful. Control what she could and worry about the rest later.
To her left, Forest’s deep breathing pulsed into the air separating them.
When she dared to stretch her hand to soothe him, he jerked away. His aversion to her touch had only intensified over the intervening weeks.
She’d barely seen him this past month. During the day, he would disappear inside his computer room, and at night, he’d close the door to his bedroom. He’d said he was working on his project, but she understood.
Forced into intimate contact nearly every night, Forest was avoiding her.
Clark Preston would pose them, filming his nonstop narrative direction. She and Forest never spoke as they moved like the puppets they had become.
Focus!
Master John would be here soon.
A chill ripped through her body, and she fisted her fingers tight until her nails cut into her palms. Her mind was a raw and ravaged mess, and she was failing to package the important bits and squirrel them away. She needed to find her center if she was going to survive the night.
A rustle of paper trickled out from the library.
Clark Preston had finished working on his latest case.
His leather chair creaked as he rose, and then his steps filled the silence, echoing against the walls and bouncing off the ceiling to lodge deep in her chest. He came to a stop before them, the weight of his power settling heavily on her shoulders.
“Not long now. Master John has a treat for you, boy.”
Elsbeth’s insides twisted. With her head pressed to the backs of her hands, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed.
Whatever Master John had planned for Forest never materialized. Master John had apologized, saying it would be another couple of weeks.
Elsbeth sought answers and found none, her mind fearful and full of too many what-ifs.
With the arrival of Master John, daily activities commenced downstairs.
Forest endured brutal beatings while she drowned in forced pleasure.
Her mind learned to respond to delivered commands, and her body bent to Master John’s will.
Days ran into one another, blurring lines and erasing boundaries.
Forest grew even colder and detached, rarely speaking in the few spare moments they found themselves unmolested.
During the endless summer, he’d spend hours in the basement, alone with Master John.
When released, Forest would retreat to his rooms. She’d knock on the door, wait, but her pleas would remain unanswered.
They suffered, apart from each other. He’d barely look at her and never in her eyes.
They wouldn’t touch outside the basement, his body conditioned to respond in a way he couldn’t process.
They endured together. Separated, they were falling apart.
She picked up the pieces as best as she could.
The days churned by.
Elsbeth feared for the future, but never gave up trying to reach Forest.
She knocked on Forest’s door. “Come on! Let me in.”
While they had locks on the doors, they weren’t permitted to use them. So, when she twisted the knob and found her entry barred, Elsbeth gaped. This was not good. If Clark Preston found Forest locking his door…well, that couldn’t happen.
She rapped on the wood and lowered her voice, frantic now more than ever to reach him. “Forest?”
No response.
“Forest!”
A chair scraped over the tile floor, but no other sound reached her ears.
“Is something wrong, my pet?” The liquid tone of Master John’s voice poured into her soul and shut it down.
Where had he come from?
With her hand on the doorknob, she froze.
He invaded her personal space and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. With the soft press of his lips against the angle of her jaw, he brushed her arm. “What’s the matter? Why do you run to him when you have me to turn to?”
Because Forest was safe.
A trail of kisses traveled down the curve of her neck, Master John lapping and nibbling at her collarbone.
Gripping her wrist, he pulled her hand off the doorknob and pressed it to the hardness of his shaft. “I find myself in need, my pet. What should we do?”
“Forgive me, Master John.”
Everything with him was, Forgive me, Excuse me, I’m sorry.
She hated him with a burning passion. Lowering to her knees, she prepared to offer her mouth.
He held her in place. “No, my pet, not like that.”
“To the basement?”
She’d spent the morning with him—being trained, as he called it. The bulk of the day, she’d been free to roam, which meant she’d shut the door to her rooms and read one of her books. In those few hours, she’d lived a different life and dreamed of another future.
He shook his head and drew her away from the closed door. “No, my pet. I have something special in mind.”
The room spun. His surprises never boded well for her.
“Ye-yes, sir.”
With a hardening of his tone, he made her blood chill. “Never sir. I’m your master.”
The words landed on her sluggish mind without the impact he seemed to want. Her silence had him pulling her through the house, down the long hall, and into the foyer. When he approached the steps leading upstairs, she dug in her heels. Five years in this house, and she’d never ventured up there.
“Please, Master John, can we not go to the basement?”
“I’m offering my bed to you, and you want to go there? Do you know the privilege in sharing my bed?”
Oh, dear God, no.
For whatever reason, Clark Preston had left the sanctity of their rooms inviolate. No matter what happened during the day or in the evenings when he came home, she always had the security of her bed, and now, Master John wanted her, up there, and in his bed.
A strangled cry erupted from her throat, and she did the unthinkable. She refused.
Elsbeth tugged out of his grip, staggering, while the room spun, and a buzzing filled her head.
Master John slapped her cheek, his shout nothing but unfiltered noise.
She wouldn’t go. Not up there. Never there.
Movement blurred in the periphery of her vision. Forest advancing at a run. She fell, crying out as she landed on unforgiving marble.
Fury boiled in Forest’s expression. He swung at Master John, his fist moving too slowly. Gangly. Awkward. Forest missed. Master John grabbed Forest’s wrist, using momentum to pull him forward and down. Forest landed in a heap, his head cracking on the marble, and his body going still.
“No!” She scrambled to Forest, hugging his limp form, as tears poured down her cheeks.
“What the hell is all the racket about?” Clark Preston’s stern voice silenced her cries.
Master John yanked her off Forest. “Don’t you ever disobey again.” He turned to Clark Preston. “That one is a liability. Put him down.”
He lifted her off her feet. Kicking and screaming, she was carried downstairs.
“You’ll discover what happens when you displease your master.”
Rage filled her, burning from the inside out, and she erupted with seething anger. “You’re not my master. You’ll never be my master.”
He held her chin in the hardness of his embrace. His searing gaze stole her breath. “Since the day you stepped foot in this house, I have been your master. I will always be. And I’ll do whatever I want with you.”