BLAKE: Captive to the Dark (18 page)

My head snapped to the door. I could leave if I wanted to. It would be hard as fuck, but I could do it. The cutting was a setback. An overwhelming release that needed to come, but I’d had those my whole life.
The episode hadn’t changed anything in the weak-versus-strong book I kept logged in my head.

“Oh my God.” I laughed, more out of need to hear sound than
actual emotion. Perhaps I was starting to lose it after all the hours I’d been in here. Or, possibly, all the time I’d spent alone, unraveling the bullshit I didn’t want to face was exactly what needed to happen from the start.

Light suddenly appeared from under the door. The muscles in my neck ached and I swayed, barely catching myself against my numbing legs. The door swung open and Blake’s massive form was nothing but a dark silhouette. My eyes squinted
while he began to walk forward. My realization combined with him standing in the room was so intimidating. Our eyes connected as he became visible and mine instantly lowered. I couldn’t keep contact. Not after what I’d done. What we’d shared. How I’d been this whole time. I was ashamed of myself. Of my outbursts and tantrums.

The moment the cuffs were undone
, my legs locked. If it wasn’t for his hands bracing against my ribs at the last second, I would have collapsed. I gripped his biceps, only to let go. A sound left my lips as I bent my knees and managed to ease down. I’d kneel, if it was the last thing I did. Shame resurfaced and I projected it through my hands as I gripped to his thigh and buried my face against his jeans.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.” Although my eyes burned, I held in the tears. No more crying. This was the beginning of something new with Blake
. I’d follow his lead. He was my Sir, my healer, my teacher. I’d be stupid not to learn from this lesson. From
him.

“I’m not here to save you, Kaitlyn.” The deep tone of his voice soothed me and I hugged tighter to his leg for the briefest moment before
he pulled me away, picked me up, and began carrying me to the guest restroom.

Slowly, my eyes rose to meet his. “I don’t need saving, Sir. I need strength. Give it to me any way you feel is fitting.” I lowered my gaze as he
placed me down by the counter.

“
You don’t have to worry about that. I will. Now, hurry and make it quick. I’ll wait.”

I nodded and forced my legs to work as I shut the door. The light was blinding and I tried to ignore my appearance in the mirror. The seat was cold and I pushed away the uncomfortable sensation of Blake standing outside. My body was covered
in needles and growing worse by the second. I flushed and washed my hands. Blood was dried all the way to my lower stomach and even smeared a little on my thigh. It looked as if I’d been a victim of some brutal attack, but it was far from the truth. I opened the door, glancing at Blake.

“Back to the roo
m.” He gestured and I reached to the wall for support. So much for him carrying me back. Each time my foot rose to take another step, my knees wobbled. I was halfway down the hall when my legs gave out. Damn the running. If we hadn’t done that mile and a half, I probably would have been able to stand through my punishment.

“Crawl if you have to. Come on. I have stuff I need to do.”

Pushing myself up was the hardest. My arms were dead and nothing was responding the way I wanted. Somehow
, I managed to stand and make it back to the door before I collapsed again. Getting to the bed took longer than I wanted, but I did it. Blake never said a word as he watched. The moment I was under the covers, still bloody, he left, shutting the door behind him. I was back to the dark. A place I was sure I was going to learn to get used to real fast.

This was not going to be a one night punishment. I knew that all the way into my bones. The d
read that ate its way into my soul sent premonitions of impending hardship. Days of nonstop work and restraints. Blake was going to try to break me. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew it. My pampered, tantrum throwing days were over. I was a slave in every sense of the word. Except, this time, I wanted to choose it. I wanted to prove to him and myself that I wasn’t who I’d become. The whip had been at my feet and I’d taken the step to kick it away. I could have screamed for my Master. Begged him to save me, to take it away. Yet, I didn’t. It was the first step in several more I needed to take, but I could do it. For the first time since I’d been sold, I believed in myself. Blake had done that. What else could he do to help me? I wasn’t sure, but I was ready to find out.

Chapter 13

Blake

Conflict
ed. I felt it in every fiber of my being. The good part of me feared for the stability of my slave’s mind. I couldn’t read her. She was too compliant. Too strong for nine hours of isolation. Kaitlyn should have been angry. Crying. Something. But she wasn’t. She reminded me of an obedient shell. Had I gone too far? Left her tied up for far too long in the dark with her biggest fear?

A part of me felt justified. She’d pissed me off, going behind my back to cut herself. Why couldn’t she come to me? Ask me to help her? Had we been through nothing the whole time we were together? Had I not opened myself to her and given her a gift not hours before that I’d never given anyone? Why the lapse into wanting to cut herself? The
run? No. Whatever had set her off was rooted in long before the she woke up this morning.

My knuckles were white from gripping the counter so hard. The dark marble should have had a permanent imprint for all the holding on I’d done over the day. If she knew how many times I’d started for that door just to rip her up
, tear into her ass with my belt, she’d thank God I made her hang from the cuffs. The physical pain she would have had to endure would be more than she could take, that was for sure. The spankings would have to wait until tomorrow when I was cooled off enough to know I wouldn’t go overboard. Dammit, that woman ticked me off. I thought I had everything figured out. I was wrong.

The sound of my phone had me angrily ripping it up from the counter. Jack’s number appeared on the Caller ID and I hit the button to accept it.

“You’re either falling behind or getting old. Pick one.”

“Old. I’m not even going to lie.” Jack’s laugh made the edge of my mouth rise. Well, that was a good sign, I could use some change of mood.

“So, what’s the word? You hear anything back on that phone number? I checked the IP address, nothing worth celebrating over.”

Wind whipped through the phone letting me know he was outside. My eyes went to the window. The sun had just recently set after seven. I’d watched as the light disappeared from the opened blinds. Now all I could see was my own reflection, and it wasn’t flattering. Damn hair. It was crazier than I’d
ever seen it over the years. I was sure that no strands were pointing in the same direction. Kaitlyn was going to end up making me cut it all off if she kept this up.

“The phone’s a prepaid. Can’t get
nothing out of it. Sorry, my friend. Any new emails in Kaitlyn’s account?”

“No. I checked earlier. Maybe I’ll
call the number again and this time he’ll answer. He only gave her a few days. Not a specific one, so that tells me he’s somewhat open to negotiation.”

Jack made a sound.
“Sounds like an amateur, or someone desperate for cash. Try that number and let me know something. I gotta go. I’m on my way to a gang shooting. Keep me updated.”

“You bet.” I hung up the phone. I didn’t tell Jack that I’d been stalking her inbox like a mad man every chance I got. I’d even checked it before I found her trying to take apart that God damn razor.

The scent of chicken filled the air and I looked at the timer. Fifteen more minutes. Just enough time to make good on what I’d told my partner and see if this motherfucker answered. He hadn’t yesterday. I wasn’t so sure he would tonight. If he wanted the money that bad, wouldn’t he just call her? He had my number, not that I necessarily liked that. A blackmailer having personal information was never a good thing. Not that he’d have it for long. California was in my future at some point, and I’d find him, whether he ever answered the damn phone or not.

I hit the number in my history and waited as it r
ang. Voicemail clicked on and I narrowed my eyes. I’d yet to leave a message. Maybe I should. The beep sounded and my hand went back to the counter. “This is Blake Morgan. I believe I have something you want. Call me.”

There, maybe that would catch his attention. I hung up and slid the phone across the counter. A ring filled the air before I could turn to stir the side dishes for m
y and Kaitlyn’s meal.
Bingo.

“Morgan.”

A laugh filled my ear and I instantly hated the tone of his voice. Deep. Smooth. “Mr. Morgan. So glad to finally talk with you. I see Miss Summers has finally confided in you about her issue.”

“Not really a problem, I’d say.”

“So, you’re going to pay?”

I laughed. “I didn’t say that. I simply meant that I didn’t see you blackmailing her as a problem.”

The amusement left his tone. “Maybe you don’t understand how this is going to ruin her career. Drugs aren’t taken lightly in the public eye.”

“Cut the shit. Almost all models do something these days and everyone knows it. If they don’t
, they’re one of the fortunate few.” I paused. “You know what, Mr...I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

“Call me
Mr. X.”

I
rolled my eyes. “Okay,
Mr. X
. Let me let you in on a little secret. I truly don’t give a shit about those pictures. Neither does Kaitlyn. But for the sake of the argument, if I did try to keep you from throwing her career in the gutter, what would you suggest I do? How would you want your money?”

“Now we’re talking.” The sound of music played lightly and I soaked it in, recognizing it as
a club mix. Techno. I’d have to remember that. How old was this guy? He didn’t sound older than forty, but I could have been wrong. Where was he to have the music so muffled? An office in the back? There was too much bass for it to be in a home, in my opinion. “Kaitlyn has to deliver me the money, personally. I don’t want you within a five mile radius. You, Mr. Morgan, are not to be trusted.”

A smile came to my face. “Now
, why would you think that?”

“You’re quite the enigma. For me to say that means I can’t get much information on you. That throws red flags. I can get anything I want. Who protects you, Mr. Morgan? Why? I have to admit, you’ve
piqued my interest. For you, that might not be a good thing.”

“Are you fucking threatening me? God, please say you are.” My voice practically purred as
my darkness surfaced. “Not that I really needed a reason to begin with, but enlighten me. Let’s play this game. I think it’ll be fun.”

Silence, then something metal clicked. My eyes narrowed. “Come on, Mr. X. Don’t chicken out now. We were having so much fun.”

More metal and then what sounded like a car door. “You like games, Mr. Morgan?”

“I do.”

An engine turned over
, louder than most. I knew that sound. Fancy sports car. Expensive.

“This was never about the money, was it?” I wasn’t sure how I suddenly knew, but I did. This man didn’t need it. His amusement was something altogether sicker. More twisted.
How did Kaitlyn fall into this mess?

“Oh, I love money. You can never have too much of that. I still want yours, but now I want more. Five million. Kaitlyn appears at the place of my choosing and waits under my guard while you transfer the funds. You show up anywhere near where we are, I’ll sell her again.”

The line went dead and I tossed my phone on the counter letting the shock filter through. Fuck that, motherfucker. He was so dead. I’d underestimated him, thinking he was some low life, scum paparazzi, desperate for cash. No. This was a man of means. He’d gotten rid of her before, for some reason only known to him. Now, it was up to me to discover why.

I threw the sides together and let my mind run. This place
, I thrived in. I’d go over everything Kaitlyn had ever told me. Every little detail I’d discovered about her life up to the point she was taken…and I’d unravel it. Put the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. Something had to stand out. But what was it?

An alert went off on my phone signaling an email. I rarely received them and only had the account to pass information back and forth with Jack when I was away. It was enough to rip me from my thoughts.

As I pressed the button and the page loaded, I waited. Seething. Pictures loaded and I nearly crushed the phone at the graphic evidence of my slave displayed before me. Photos of her still bleeding face, the wound exposed and open. Ones of her tied to the bed, bruised, bloody. Beaten. Fresh whip marks from her back as she stood cuffed in what I assumed was the basement in Russia. She may have been bought, but the price hadn’t ended with a cash payment. The buyer was sending proof of his abuse to the seller. This blackmailer had obviously wanted her to be hurt from the beginning. At the end of the message rested a date, nine days from now, and stated that I needed to call at five PM.

More question assault
ed me. Why have the date so far away? Who was behind this? Someone she worked with? Someone she’d been involved with in the past? The rage nearly blinded me as I let it all sink in.

My eyes went to the hallway. Kaitlyn. My poor slave. No wonder she was so screwed up. By the time I was finished, she wouldn’t be. She’d be stronger. Better. I’d make sure of it.

I made the plate in a daze. All I could think about was solving this mystery. My inner detective was on overdrive and the state of mind wouldn’t stop until I solved this. The walk down the hallway disappeared under my wide steps. I was rushing. I needed to slow. Calm. The last thing I wanted was her knowing something was wrong.

The door swung open at my push and I flipped the light on. Kaitlyn was sitting against the headboard, covering her eyes. The blood was the first thing that drew my attention. I’d made her wear it. A reminder of what I’d done.
Me.
Not her. I’d given her the release she’d needed. Although I would have typically basked in the pleasure of cutting her skin, I got no joy from the quick slice that had injured her. It wasn’t deep. Nowhere near the depth I knew she would have inflicted had she have gotten ahold of that razor, but it had done the job of me showing her who was in charge.

“Time to eat.”

I took a seat at the edge of the bed, turning to face her. The pictures I’d just seen flashed before my eyes and I tried blinking them away while I cut into the chicken. My mind asked how someone could do that to a person, but I already knew, and not just from being a former detective. I had no problem killing or cutting people up. Their blood or loss of life didn’t affect me the way it would most. So, I knew how. I just couldn’t stand that my slave had been a victim of the blackmailer and a Russian’s
sick
need.  All for what?

“Open.” My voice was clipped. Angry. I took a deep breath and eased a bite into her mouth. Curious blue eyes studied me and I couldn’t stop the swirl of emotions that hit me square in the chest. Where a small part of me almost though
t she’d cower or shy away from my mood, Kaitlyn sat straight and kept her attention on my face. It made me proud. Told me she was up for this.

“Sir—

“You’re not to speak unless spoken to, kitten.”

Kaitlyn’s mouth closed and she nodded.
Her expression was a little solemn, but she’d learn. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to talk to her, I would have loved to have a conversation. Unfortunately, not about what was on my mind. Not yet.

The rest of the meal
passed in silence and I kept going over everything. I needed to break away and let the matter rest. Right now, I was too liable to snap and do something rash…like fly our ass to California and hunt this bastard down. I couldn’t do that. Not until Kaitlyn was stable. The last thing I needed her doing was finding some reason to get scared or pissed and run from me. That’d undo everything I’d worked on so far.

I stood and placed the plate on
the nightstand. Kaitlyn watched every little move I made. Without a word, I scooped her up and carried her into the restroom. Her head immediately rested against my chest and she melted into me with all the trust I could have asked for. But apparently not enough. The blood on her chest was a reminder of that.

“Here. Sit.” I placed her on top of the counter by the sink and faced her toward the mirror. Her head lowered upon sight. "That’s not how this works, kitten. You should know that. I put you up here for a reason. I want you to tell me what you see.”

Kaitlyn’s head rose, but her eyes didn’t go to her reflection, they came to mine. “Sir, I don’t want to look.”

“You have to. You’re going to numerous times throughout the day, every day, until you can come to terms with who you are.” My hands brushed back her hair and I moved in behind her, hold
ing it in my fist. “I’m going to tell you what I see.” The gentle tug of my hand had her eyes focusing in on her image. As I talked, I used my fingertip to provide contact with my assessments. “I see gorgeous lips. A perfect nose.” I brought my finger around over her cheeks. “Beautiful eyes. The fire behind them is what captivated me to being with. I saw it, Kaitlyn, the moment our eyes locked. Do you see it? Look inside yourself, feel what I did. Let it burn and enflame the fighter I know you are.”

Her lips parted as she moved closer toward the mirror.

“Your looks, although beautiful, are so much more to me. See what I see. Accept this as who you are. I do. I love looking at you.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes flashed to me, but went back to staring. “All I see is the scar, though. I can’t get past it. It’s there. How is that not the only thing that catches your attention?”