Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
LIKE FOREST, ELSBETH opted for a shower, letting the steam build until it fogged the mirror. A thick layer of suds did the trick, washing the filth down the drain. Wrapping the long length of her hair in a towel, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a white cotton blouse.
She left her room and tiptoed to Forest’s bedroom. A quick peek confirmed Forest slumbered although his sleep appeared to be anything but peaceful.
Ideas percolated in her head, and none of them were good. A decision had to be made, however, and she struggled with the implications. As she was faced with a future of slavery for her and the brutality Forest would face in a fighting ring, peace settled quickly beneath her determination.
Now, all that was left to do was to wait out the interminable passage of time.
Elsbeth grabbed her copy of Wuthering Heights and curled up on the couch in the great room. For a time, she became someone else and traveled a different path.
Forest woke later in the afternoon, emerging from his room to search the kitchen for something to eat. He said nothing, his vacant stare fortifying her resolve.
Her cell phone buzzed with a text a few minutes prior to five p.m. It was time. Clark Preston would be home. Master John wasn’t expected for several hours, giving her a window of opportunity.
Her mind stilled in those few moments while she waited for Clark Preston to arrive. Acceptance brought a ray of hope, something she latched on to because she feared the next few hours. The Porsche rumbled outside, followed by the screeching of the garage door sliding on its rails.
Elsbeth knelt on her rug and counted the eleven steps it took for him to cross the floor.
She completed the greeting ritual, kissing the top of his shoe, lingering for a moment to rest her cheek against the polished leather. His sharp intake of breath made her smile. She’d surprised him.
“Did you miss me, little one?” His voice softened with praise for her uncharacteristic display.
“Yes, sir.” She could have said more, but she didn’t want to raise his suspicions.
He took the two steps to where Forest stood, his feet spread wide on a base much more solid than his state of mind. She’d tried to get him to talk to her throughout the day, but her Beanpole had remained distant and vacant.
“I have something special planned for you tonight.” Clark Preston strode down the hall. “Come.”
The order was no different than the thousands that had come before, yet this one felt needful and raw.
Elsbeth rose, and with a glance at Forest, she followed Clark Preston down the hall and to the great room.
Her position was at the edge of the carpet, Forest’s place was at the center of the room, and Clark Preston took a seat on the couch.
She broke protocol and dared to approach.
With her hands clasped before her and head bowed, she walked to stand before him.
His eyes widened, surprise muted by the fever of lust brewing behind his stare.
Capitalizing on his lust, she lowered to her knees, pressing her cheek against his thigh.
It took less than a breath before his fingers slipped through her hair. He’d always been fascinated by her long hair.
“Little one?”
Lifting her head, she met the fierceness of his eyes and rose to straddle his lap. “Please, sir.”
Her gentle gyrations fed his hunger, and his need stiffened behind the zipper of his trousers.
His deep voice broke upon a soft laugh. “You’re going to miss me, aren’t you?”
Her answer was to snuggle into his eager embrace.
She wrapped her arms around him, slipping her fingers between the cushions to grab the hilt of the knife she’d planted between the seam of the cushions.
The sound of Forest shifting gave her pause.
She’d wanted to spare him this memory, but she had little choice.
Pressing her lips against Clark Preston’s throat, she nibbled and sucked while his dick hardened beneath the training he’d instilled in her hips from the tender age of twelve.
With the trail of her kisses angling down his jaw, her grip tightened, as did her resolve.
She kissed him then, exciting the man who’d stolen her innocence.
He grabbed her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples.
She kissed him deeply, opening her mouth to allow him to take her as he pleased, and while his tongue speared her mouth, she dragged the sharpened blade against his throat.
His startled shout was swallowed by a flood of blood. She lifted off his lap and watched him gurgle on his last breath, feeling nothing but relief.
“Elsbeth?”
Forest’s low tone demanded her attention, but she didn’t want to miss this moment. It was done. Years of abuse had been silenced with a single cut of flesh.
“Elsbeth?” More insistent now, Forest wouldn’t be denied much longer.
Clark Preston’s body crumpled. The blood congealed into a thick, sticky mess, dripping down his chest to pool in his lap. Turning her attention to the mess, she stared at her knees.
Anticlimactic. That was the word that came to mind.
He should have suffered more. His death had been far too swift and far too peaceful.
“Elsbeth?” Forest’s whisper came from behind.
She dropped the knife and crawled off the couch. His blood coated her inner thighs, and the coppery stench had her gagging.
But they weren’t safe yet.
“Call the cops, Bean.” Her voice came out monotone, holding much firmer than she’d expected. “They need to get here before Master John returns.”
And, from his note, they would have a couple of hours at best, if that long.
“The cops?”
“Yes, call the damn cops.” She turned to face him. “They need to get here before John Snowden.”
Comprehension dawned in Forest’s eyes. He gulped and then looked at the body. “Why?”
Did she tell him what the men had planned for him? She should, and she would, but for now, she needed to get Clark Preston’s blood off her body.