32. To own is to… Hold
Chapter thirty-two
To own is to… Hold
I can count on three fingers the number of times I ever heard my father yell in anger. I can count on one the number of times Stuart has yelled at all. Men like us, ones with unlimited power and severely limited morals, rarely need to. When you have means and there’s no line you won’t cross, it rarely gets to yelling. Stuart is yelling now, his face beat red, his hands flying about like he’s battling imaginary bees. All I can think of is her. That she needs me, that I need to fix this.
I’m sorry is a phrase I’ve used sparingly throughout my life, less so times I’ve used it and meant it. Sorry , like yelling at men like me is a useless tool. Would you ever offer platitudes when it wasn’t forced? When society hadn’t demanded you pop free from the womb ready to apologize for your existence? I’m rarely sorry.
I would say that I am now, but " I'm sorry " doesn't begin to touch the ache in my chest, the way I can’t seem to swallow past my guilt. For her, for my father. I can’t seem to think past what can be done to fix it. My eyes leave the incensed man, flicking back to the security feed, where she sleeps in my bed. When we arrived on land late last night, my on-call physician cleared her. My fists clench; she hasn’t eaten. She hasn’t even fucking looked at me. I could force it, force her to snap free from whatever trauma has her in its grasp, but I have no right.
I don’t deserve her obedience, not at a time like this, because she’s not just a pet, and I can’t pinpoint the exact moment everything changed—the moment I went from being amused and entertained for the first time in nearly a decade to being fucking obsessed enough to destroy everything I worked for. Everything we worked for.
“…betrayed your father's memory for a fucking girl! For a fucking girl one wrong step away from total mental decay!”
That anger in me flares, my teeth digging into my inner cheek, because he’s not wrong.
I’ve betrayed him.
His memory.
The sacrifice he made for me.
“Our only connection! The only in we’ve found in a decade, bled to death before he ever made it to land because he threw a girl in the water! I spent my life by your side, fighting for you, cleaning up for you, and you fucking dishonor me! Dishonor your house, your fucking name!”
Breathe. You’re in control.
“ Basilisk !” He says it like a sneer. “I remember when they gave you that name! When I felt pride in the man I helped raise! When your father would’ve felt pride in the man he died for, his only fucking child, his only fucking son . His heir to an empire of fucking serpents!”
You’re in control.
I move away from the windows in my office because if I don’t, I’ll put my fist through the glass. My eyes dart to her on my laptop screen as she moves, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her perfect breasts are revealed as the sheets fall, gathering in her lap. Even now, she’s all I can think about. She’s beautiful, the canopy of color from the stained glass basking her in vibrance.
Stuart decides half my attention isn’t enough as he rounds the desk. The pungent smell of alcohol on his breath hits me hard, a stark reminder of his twelve years of sobriety now gone.
Because of me .
Because of her .
“You have clearly lost all sense!”
I stare at him, his eyes vivid in their anger. Where it should dampen mine, it fuels it, feeds off it as he shoves my chest.
You’re in control.
Breathe.
I’m forgetting how to without her here, without using her breath to match mine, a habit I picked up early on. “You’ve been drinking.”
Stuart curses loudly, shoving his finger against my chest. “Of course, I’ve been drinking! I dedicated my life to your father, my best friend! I gave my life to him and to his son, and you’ve betrayed us both, you son of a bitch!”
Breathe.
“Have you even stopped shoving your cock in her long enough to realize what you’ve done? If Tyet hasn’t already figured out what happened on that boat, they will soon, and they will call for war. They will call war on this house because without the fucking proof, it’s an act of aggression without cause! The houses will band behind him, and they will come for Serpent. You’ve spent a lifetime making enemies and no allies to speak of! How many more people will die because of that worthless whore in there and your bad calls?”
My fist connects with his face, his teeth cutting my hand as I use the momentum to slam him into the wall. My friend for all my life, my only remaining father, looks at me with such shock, such hurt, that we’re stuck there for a moment. I don’t fight as he shoves me off him, both our chests heaving with the weight of our anger as he wipes the blood off his mouth, some already staining the short white beard on his face. He only nods. “Forty-six years, I have never once raised a hand to you.”
My mind buzzes, rage taking everything, hate taking what’s left behind.
Everything is over.
Everything is fucking over .
He doesn’t speak again as he leaves my office, quietly shutting the wide double doors behind him the way he has for years, and for some reason, it’s that gesture that does it. The quiet, gentle click of the mechanism ignites in my chest. A guttural bellow rips from my throat as I turn my attention to the room around me. My vision tunnels as I rip the decanter off the desk, dumping it down my throat. It doesn’t help, doesn’t even touch me as my eyes find the screen again. Her delicate arms are wrapped around herself, her eyes on the window, the sprawling landscape beyond it.
Adrenaline battles with the exhaustion that pumps through my body, my breath harsh, my pulse in my ears. Even now, I want her. She has claimed the twisted bits of me. My itch , my need for the hatred and violence. I want to give it to her, to exact it on the woman who ruined everything , changed everything with her doe eyes and tears, her constant fucking adoration.
“Fuck!” I jerk the laptop displaying her, smashing it against the desk before I move on, destroying everything she touched, every artifact she ran her fingers along when she didn’t know I was watching. I erase her, hoping it might begin to quiet her pull.
Nightmares by Ellise
“The information comes straight from Tyet. Bloom tried to dip their hands in but, like usual, lacked the bite to back their yapping. Flesh and arms were the deal, but the buyer seems agreeable to amending as long as we move fast.” I pluck the biggest House of Serpents wax stamp off my father’s desk, tossing it in the air before snatching it. The bulbous thing is heavy, its handle taking up most of my palm.
I see Stuart approach from behind me in the reflection of the polished handle before he plucks it from my palm. “This was a gift from a foreign dignitary your grandfather met in Dubai, and it's older than you.” He sets it back down beside the other two sizes in the set before turning back to me. “Last second deals are never—"
“Enough of your coddling.” Father laughs. “If my son says the deal is good, it’s good. We’ll suit up in an hour and be on the way.”
Irritation floods my chest where there should be pride. “You say you trust me, but you won’t let me go alone?”
“Warrick, there’s nothing wrong with an added layer of protection. It’s got nothing to do with trust.”
Stuart nods. “And everything to do with keeping your unseasoned ass from getting shot again.”
I spin my chair toward the closed office doors, looking at the destroyed room around me. My chest is heaving. It’s not enough, just like I knew it wouldn’t be. My grip on myself is nonexistent. That itch has changed into a pulse worming its way into my brain.
Hours have passed. She hasn’t once come to look for me.
My own fucking dog abandoned me after I threw away everything for her. The fairness of that statement is up for debate, but logic isn’t something I’m concerned with now. I need her, need her to take me like this, for her to see the problems she caused for me. Like a fucking child, I need her warmth, knowing whatever it is that’s deep inside her can fix this, fix me.
I’m drunker than I thought as I get up from my office chair, stalking over the rubble of my office and down the hall to my room.
She’ll fix me .
I’ll match her breath, and everything will be fine.
This feeling will end.
I know it’s a lie, and I should turn around.
Fuck, I shouldn’t go to her like this, but I don’t stop. I’m a fucking bastard, because I don’t even fucking hesitate.
The darkness of my bedroom greets me, her huddled shape pressing into my mattress as she sleeps. She sleeps like my entire world isn’t crumbling because she made me care about her. Because she told me she loved me, and I fucking believed her. She was the first good thing I felt in years, and in an instant, it rewired something in me, something primal that decided it belonged to her.
It takes a while of me standing in the darkness, glaring at her soft, gentle curves after I’d tugged the sheet from her before she stirs. She yawns before those big, sad eyes find mine. “What do you want?”
What do I want?
What, indeed.
My fists clench at my sides, stepping closer to her, and those sweet little eyes widen as the moonlight from the large windows hits me. I’m bloody, my bare chest rising and falling with my breath. Far from the master she gave her love to, right now, I’m Basilisk, the twisted, fucked up monster who wears the skin of the calm, controlled man.
I’ve never been either of those things, not for a moment.
Her bratty little mouth opens, concern disrupting her anger before I cut her off. “You ruined everything.” It’s not what I meant to say. Fuck, it’s not. I meant to crawl beside her and shove my nose into her sweet-smelling hair so I could breathe again.
“I ruined everything…”
No honorifics in sight, I see.
My form towers over her as I brace my arms on the four-poster bed, breathing in the scent of her, remembering when I scrubbed him off her earlier. I felt it so deep in my chest, wanting to push her under the water. I wanted her to beg me, to tell me she was mine, to say sorry for something I forced her to do.
I wanted her to say she loved me again.
She didn’t.
She stared into the bath water, avoiding my eyes. Avoiding me .
Her master.
And I deserved it.
“All your training, and you couldn’t do the one thing I required of you?”
She stares up at me, but all I see is my weakness, the only one I’ve ever allowed myself reflected at me in blinding clarity. “And what was it you required of me, Sir ? To open my fucking legs? To let him shove his fat cock in me? Because I did .” She shoves up from the mattress, scrambling off the bed. “ I did, and my cunt was wet, just like you wanted it to be when you told me to fuck him!”
It was the wrong move. Her anger, like his, merges with mine, feeding it as my cock comes to life in my pants, despite how sick her words make me. The truth behind them settles in my chest like a dagger, because she fucked him. She fucked him, and I forced her to. Not with threats or violence, but because I knew she wouldn’t say no. She couldn’t say no to me. I offered her up to him on a fucking platter! She yelps, trying to move away, but it’s too late. She’s mine . “You think I fucking wanted that? You think I wanted him to touch you? All these months dressing you in blue, coddling you, adoring, fucking worshipping you, and you think I wanted this?”
“I wasn’t in blue tonight. I was in black, and I hated it!” She screams back at me, her blonde hair ruffled like flames around her head.
My hand tightens on her collar, sending her crashing against me. “You didn’t seem to mind while you were getting fucked, did you, baby? Those were your words, yes? Your wet cunt . All this talk of your success, but my honor , my father’s, is in ruins, and you ended up floundering in the fucking water!”
Her chin wobbles, her eyes filling with tears, and I can’t see it.
I can’t fucking see it.
We’re too far gone, my control slipping through my fingertips. I should turn around. I should walk out, but I don’t. I don’t, and no god or prayer has the hope of saving us now. My mouth slams against hers, kissing her deeply, taking every breath she has, because they belong to me. Not to him. Not to the fucking water, not her family and her trauma. She’s mine . So, I take her mouth like I’m trying to remind myself of that. Pain flares in my lip, her teeth cutting into it, shoving me with everything she has. I pop free, panting.
“No.” It’s a single word, said with such anger, such finality. For a moment, it halts me. She glares up at me, my blood smeared across her soft lips, and she has never looked more devastatingly beautiful. I double down, pressing my cock into her and leaning into it now as she leans into me back, and she hates it. “I tried to fuck him for you because you ordered me to, just like I fuck you because I have to. Isn't it true, Master, that I am doing what I was trained for? That’s why you fucking bought me to perform like a well-trained dog! I didn’t want him more than I’ve ever wanted you .”
There's a thick, impossibly heavy silence while her cutting words sink in.
Then…everything detonates.
She screams as I jerk her by the collar, forcing her back to the bed. “Stop!”
“Why should I? After you’ve gone through the fucking trouble of reminding me of your place! How had I ever fucking forgotten?” I laugh. It’s a disgusting, maniacal sound, one that has lived in my nightmares as I choke her, holding her up off the bed as I secure her collar to the rigging.
“How had I ever forgotten that you’re the fucking dog ?” I toss her down on the bed, hopping off to stalk her, watching her crystal tears run down her cheeks. Her chest heaves in quiet sobs. My thoughts are jumbled by the alcohol and my own venom as I head over to the built-in compartment on the wall. She knows what’s in here; she paid attention, and her sobs are evidence of that.
“I don’t want to do this anymore!”
My fingers slide over my snakeskin bullwhip, one I’ve never taken to her. She seemed too sweet, and from the very start, I was fucked for her. “What you want is of no consequence to me, little pet. You belong to me, dead, alive, bloodied, or beaten. I own you. Your choice in what happens to that praise-desperate cunt of yours ended the day they drugged you at that bar.” I snag my marker next, wanting, needing to inflict, knowing what I write will have far more effect than the whip, but I intend to use both.
I should’ve given her away that day. I should’ve let Tyet have her. Even that thought feels acidic in my brain.
She sobs. “I don’t want you to hit me with that. I don’t want to do this, please!”
“Poor pup, still not understanding that you don’t have a fucking choice in the matter!” I don’t even turn back fully before I bring the whip up and strike her, adrenaline rushing through me as her scream fills the room. A beautiful red whelp blooms across her cheek, right where I intended it. “I suggest you get on your knees. It would be a pity if this hit your good eye. Not much use for me in a blind dog.”
She’s sobbing as she turns, sinking her upper body to the mattress. Her tether tangles in her braid as I whip her again, her scream releasing into the pillow as the end strokes her ass. Her nails dig into the pillow, gasping and bracing as I bring down another flurry of hits. Each one leaves her marred. I could take off the cover at the end, razor whipping her, but even now, her sobs resonate somewhere deep inside me, and if I was a better man, I’d stop here.
I am not a better man.
We continue like that until her pale flesh is whelped and red, her throat hoarse as I flip her onto her back, dragging her down the bed toward me. “I don’t want it,” she sobs. “Master, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She chants it like a mantra.
But I need her.
I need her because I’m still not breathing.
I need her to take this, to hold it until I’m me again.
Her hair is like silk under my tough palm as I pet her softly. So softly. Her entire backside and swollen, wet holes are raw and brutalized. “Shhh, baby. You look so fucking pathetic like this. So pretty.”
She thrashes, whimpering, trying to free herself as I jerk off my pants, letting my cock settle on her smooth, pale belly while I pin her arms underneath my knees.
When she sees the marker, she dissolves. “No, no, no, please !”
“It’s your fault for saying no to me. Your fault for disobeying, for saying you don’t fucking want me. You can feel sorry for yourself when I’m done with you.”
She sobs. “I tried! I tried to please him. I tried .”
The cap of the marker comes off with a pop as I lean in, sprawling the word bad across her neck, right where I intend to choke her.
“Tell me honestly: did his cock go inside you? I want to know everything.”
She tells me through pants and sobs about how she tried, how she didn’t want it, how she threw up on him. I wish it was enough to stop this. Each word pushes me closer to the edge, wedging the knife deeper, one I thrust into my own gut. I want to stop this, but I’m beyond reason, beyond her salvation. A slave to my rage, my insanity, like all those years ago. I’m fucking bleeding out, hemorrhaging for her. Because of her.
The only person who has ever brought me to my knees.
She struggles, begging as I jerk her legs apart, my cock nudging her entrance as I nip and tug at her nipples. “I SAID NO.”
“No is not a luxury you can afford, my love.”
She whimpers as I lean back, entering her with brutal efficiency, all the while scribbling bad across her perfect body, peppering my bites in between.
“What are you, pet ?” I growl in her ear, my hands bruising her waist as I quicken my already-punishing thrusts. Her small breasts heave, sobs mixing with pleas and moans.
“I’m bad ,” she sobs as I fuck her into the mattress. Ignoring her begging, when her cunt spasms, her body betraying her, my hand finds her throat, applying pressure until her clawing and scratching grows weaker.
I drag her body’s betrayal out of her over and over again until my own release rips through me. This time, when she comes alongside me, the word bad covers her, but it’s whittled into her soul, her skin red and angry from my abuse. Her sobs are silent now, just a shuddering in her chest, and before I pull out of her, the gravity of what I’ve done hits me. It makes bile rise in my throat, but I can breathe again, so I do. I breathe her in, letting it balm things that don’t deserve it, not while she’s looking at me like that. Each breath reels me back in as I press kisses to her swollen lips. “Pup…”
“ I hate you .” She says it blankly, with such finality, I have to swallow past the tight pressure in my throat.
I leave her there.
Because I fucked up again.
And I don’t know how to fix any of it.