Raw, A Dark Romance (8 page)

I was alone again.

Alone but no longer afraid.

Alone but finally feeling as if I’d paid my brave baby sister back a little for all she’d done for me.

Alone but grateful.

I want her to be like the others. To cry and scream and beg. But she’s not and it’s fucking with my head. I can’t want her. I don’t deserve that. I only deserve the pleasure of her pain. But she won’t even give me that. I hate her. –Kace R.

Someone was in my room. Standing next to my bed.  I had a feeling it was him, my captor, my tormenter. The cold, heartless bastard.

Why was he here now?

I hadn’t seen him the rest of the day, not since he’d left me in the dungeon. Once again Adela had come to my rescue, a robe draped over her arm and an icepack in her hands. Saying absolutely nothing, she ushered me back to my room. Once we were closed inside, she handed me some ointment, to speed the healing of my lash marks and the ice pack for my ankle. “You should stay here and rest,” she told me, concern pulling her pretty features into tense lines.

“Thank you. I will.”

As I cleaned up she brought me a scrumptious meal. The main dish had rice and different kinds of seafood in it. I’d never tasted anything like it. Dessert was fresh fruit. While the food was delicious, I ate alone. It was really fucking lonely. But I didn’t crave Ramos’s company. Hell no. With time came clarity. While he had been beating me, I’d convinced myself that I deserved it. But now my head was clear.

Nobody deserved to be treated like that. Not
Karrie. Not me.

Not anyone.

Too angry to rest, I gimped around my room, hoping to find my things hidden away somewhere. The room was so fucking big, it would be easy to hide it all. Sadly, I didn’t find any of it. Not a single sock. Determined to keep looking, I tried the door. Much to my surprise, it wasn’t locked.

Moving as quietly as I could, on tiptoes, I crept through Ramos’s massive mansion. My nerves were on edge as I hobbled from one room to another, searching for my possessions among gorgeous antiques and art work. At any moment I expected to run into the bastard. I had no idea what I would say when I saw him again. I wanted to scream at him and pound that beautiful face with my fists. He had beaten me. Like a fucking dog. For no reason, other than for the sheer enjoyment. What kind of monster enjoyed making other people suffer?

And yet he’d seemed so angry when I hadn’t begged him to stop. Furious. Didn’t he get off on beating me? Hadn’t he enjoyed my silence so he could keep hitting me?

God only knew.

He was crazy. A sadistic criminal who deserved to have his ass beat.

He was around here, somewhere. I felt his presence everywhere. My nerves prickled. I was twitchy. But I let that unease drive me forward. I would find my stuff and I would get the out of this hellhole. Somehow.

And when the police came to lock his ass up, what would he say? God, I wanted to see them snap handcuffs on him and drag him out of this palace. I wanted to see him suffer like I did, like every girl before me had.

But I didn’t see him. I didn’t find my things, either. After hunting for hours, I returned to my room empty-handed and ate dinner alone. And then, feeling exhausted, both physically and mentally, I turned in early.

Now, in the wee hours of the morning, he’d come to me.

I kept my breathing slow and even, acting as if I was asleep. I was terrified. My heart pounded hard and fast in my chest. The sound thumped in my ears. My whole body tensed. Would he wake me?  Would he drag me back to that fucking dungeon and whip me some more?

Would he kill me?

He stood beside my bed. Some part of him, his arms perhaps, pressed on the mattress. The bed sank from his weight. My breath caught in my throat but I forced myself to exhale.

Please, please leave me alone.

A touch. To my face. So soft. So gentle. A stroke along my hairline, down to my jaw. I was so scared I had to fight to keep my face relaxed and breathing even. It was almost impossible.

“I’m sorry I left you. Twice. You’re right. I am a bastard.” he whispered. “What is it about you? Why do you make me feel this way?”

What way did I make him feel? The words sat on the tip of my tongue. I could have easily spit them out, but I didn’t. I was terrified of what he would do if he knew I was awake.

His finger traced up my cheek again then traveled across my forehead. His breath, so sweet, warmed my face. Unable to stop myself, I wriggled. Then I stilled, forcing my muscles to relax. “Are you dreaming now? Of a good, kind, handsome prince charming? You won’t find him here,” he murmured. “Only a monster in a charming disguise. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you accept the truth?”

Did he think I saw him as something more than a cruel, heartless bastard? Because if he did, he was wrong…

Or was he?

“I can’t be a fucking prince. Not for you. Not for any woman.” He sighed. Silence fell like a heavy blanket over both of us. “I didn’t want to be. But you…you make me want to be better, to be more than a fucking animal. I hate you for that.”

And I hated him. For buying me. For beating me. And for this--mostly for this--for letting me see his humanity. It had been so easy to hate him when all I saw was the monster.

But now, now I saw the man.

“I don’t deserve this. You.” His breath gusted across my mouth. I felt heat. Radiating over my face and chest. “Could there be any hope?”  Then the softest touch on my lips. A sweet, gentle kiss. The kind of kiss that broke spells and woke sleeping princesses in fairytales. The kind that transformed monsters into princes.

My heart lurched.

This was so much more dangerous than anything he might do in that awful dungeon of his. This vulnerability. This moment. This kiss.

I shuddered. I trembled. But I kept my eyes shut and prayed he would turn back into the monster I could hate. Because now, for the first time since I’d learned I had been sold as a slave, I was really doubting my will to escape.

“No, I won’t let you do this,” he said, louder. “You won’t make me question everything I am and everything I’ve done. I don’t deserve anything. There is no hope. I know women like you. They don’t fall in love with men like me.”

He left.

I opened my eyes and whispered, “Well you’ve made me question everything I am and everything I’ve done. So fuck you.”

* * * * *

Later that morning, I discovered my luggage in my room. All of it. Including my purse. And my phone.

The first thing I did was check for messages. There were over twenty. All of them were from Sidonie. Sitting on the bed, I listened to the first and the last and didn’t bother with any in between. She was freaking out, didn’t know why I wasn’t answering her calls, and, as of last night, was on her way to
Spain.

Ohthankgod!

I checked the clock. By now she was probably sleeping in a hotel somewhere or enjoying a hot cup of coffee.

Risking waking her, I dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.

“Kendall!” she screamed into the phone, the volume almost splitting my eardrum. “Ohmygod! I was really worried. I’ve been calling you for days. Why the hell didn’t you answer?”

“Long story,” I said, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. God, it was great just hearing her voice. She sounded so close. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the Weston in Cadiz. How did your date go? Where are you?”

“I’m at Ramos’s house, on the shore somewhere.”

“Oooh. You stayed overnight? Things must’ve gone well! I have Señor Ramos’s address. It isn’t far from here. I’ll come and pick you up whenever you’re ready to go. No hurry, though.”

She was on her way!

The nightmare was over. Over!

I’d survived.

Forgetting about my twisted ankle and my sore ass, I jumped to my feet. Neither hurt as I scrambled to the bathroom. “I’m ready to go today. Now.” I grabbed my toothbrush. “How soon can you get here?”

“A half hour?” she said.

A half hour! Thirty minutes! I would be out of here in thirty minutes! Halleluiah!

“But are you sure you want to leave so soon?” she asked.

“Absolutely certain. I’ll be ready to go in a half hour.” I tucked my phone between my cheek and shoulder to free up my hand. I squeezed some toothpaste onto my toothbrush. “Thanks for coming for me.”

“Of course! I’m sorry I couldn’t fly out with you like we’d planned. We’re still going to do the touristy stuff, aren’t we? I mean, I’m here a few days late, but we still have time. That is, unless you wanted to spend that time with someone else…”

“Of course I want to spend the rest of the time with you! I can’t wait!”

“So, you didn’t say, how’d the date go? Will you be seeing him again this week?”

I turned sideways and lifted the robe, pulling one side of my panties down. An angry red mark marred my creamy white skin. “I’ll tell you later. I’m going to let you go so I can get dressed. I just woke up.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

The phone line went dead and I launched into action, washing my face, brushing my teeth, and doing what I could with my makeup and hair. The shower would wait until I was out of this hellhole and safe. Before dressing (in my own clothes) I checked my bottom in the mirror. The marks had faded a tiny bit, but they still looked bad. That sadistic bastard had hit me hard.

Thirty minutes flew by, and then I was dragging my suitcase down the hall, silently saying
sayonara
to everything I passed. My purse flopped against my hip as I walked.

When I turned the corner toward the main entry, something big darted out of a darkened doorway. That big thing turned out to be Kace Ramos.

“I’m leaving,” I informed him, avoiding eye contact. I didn’t want to look in his eyes. I didn’t want to see if he was sad or angry or glad to see me go. Instead, I looked down at my handbag. It was a lot safer but not as interesting.

“Yes, I see you are leaving.
Adios
, Kendall.”

He’d said my name.

My gaze jerked to his eyes. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t.

They were dark and full of stormy emotion. I became instantly swept up in the roiling, intense emotions in his gaze. And for the briefest moment I considered calling Sidonie back and asking her to come tomorrow instead. But then I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, and the pain on my backside reminded me what I would be in for if I stayed. And while I hated to admit that the pain had done something unexpected, had cleansed me of some guilt and remorse about my sister, I wasn’t ready for more of what I’d already received. And even more importantly, I wasn’t ready for the emotions churning in my gut as I stared into that man’s eyes.

Why the hell did I care that he looked so upset?

“How is your ankle?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“My
ankle
is fine. As good as new,” I said, leaving out the fact that my ass was still sore. The fact was, I had to take some of the blame for that. I hadn’t said the safe word. He would have stopped if I had. Softer, I said, “Adios, Señor Ramos. Thank you for letting me leave early.”

His jaw clenched ever so slightly. “You are welcome.”

I moved, jerkily, the pain in my ass stilting my movement.

In that moment an involuntary reaction, a tiny cringe, pulled at his features. He motioned toward the door. “It is for the best you leave now.”

“Yes.” It was better for me. For him…I wasn’t so sure. I remembered what he had said last night, while watching me sleep, that he felt something different with me. And I wondered if I did something
for
him somehow. That I helped him.

What if by leaving I halted what could have been a very good thing? A healing experience?

Intending to move toward the door, I took a couple of steps. But instead of heading that direction, I traveled toward him. Pausing a few feet from his tense, massive bulk, I stared up into his eyes. “I hope someday you’re free of your shackles, too.”

Rage ignited in his eyes, taking me off guard.
“
Vete al carajo, puta!
Bitch!” Lunging forward, he caught my upper arms in his fists and shook me. “Don’t give me your fucking pity. I don’t deserve anyone’s pity. Do you fucking hear me? Do you?”

My teeth chattered as he shook me. “Y-yes. I hear you. I don’t feel pity. I—“

Yanking his hands away, he curled them into fists. “Good. Because the only thing you should ever feel for me is disgust. And hatred. Fear.” He pointed an index finger at my nose. “You got that? Hatred. Nothing else. No pity. No affection. No fucking kindness. Do you know what I am? I’m a monster. An animal. Do you know what I do? I buy girls like you. I pay money to break them, to bruise and maim, to whip. I need to hear them scream. I need to hear them beg and cry. They’re nothing to me but things. A means to my satisfaction. Voices to cry out for mercy. Skins to bruise and cut. Canvases to paint with pain.”