Twisted Together
Page 3

When he took me yesterday, I forced the memories and horrible history away. When he hit me, the clenching of my insides wasn’t from pleasure, but instead from panic. I allowed Q to believe it was lust.
I didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t need to know my dreadful secret. It would break his heart and wedge a canyon between us. Time would heal me. Time would fix everything.
It would.
I had to believe that.
Keeping my voice as steady as possible, I said, “I love it when you touch me. And sleeping with you yesterday meant the world to me.” I brought my arm up, breaking his contact around my throat. Flashing my diamond ring in his face, I added, “You proposed yesterday. You offered me your life, your fortune. Everything you’ve done for me, I’ll never be able to repay. Let me try to find normalcy by loving you and accepting everything you need to give me.”
Q scowled. “You’re saying you would happily let me string you up and use the cat o’ nine tails on you right now?” His gaze glinted. “You would grow wet for me and pant for my c**k just like you did before?”
My heart galloped. Why did he have to ask such probing questions? He knows. I was stupid to think he didn’t. Did he guess I no longer craved the delicious line of pain and pleasure? “Yes,” I breathed. “I would give you everything. Just like you’ve given me.”
Q grabbed my hand, twisting the filigree wings wrapping around my wedding finger. The diamonds glittered even in the dawn, and my heart glowed knowing Q had imbedded a tracker in the gold so he would always know where I was. The comfort knowing he would hunt for me was tremendous. My monster would come. Just like he’d done before.
“You hide so much from me, but you forget I can smell fear.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Do you regret saying yes? Have you had second thoughts about marrying me?”
“What? No!” A spike of horror pierced my heart. “Why on earth would you ask that?” Yanking my hand back, I glared. “Accepting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If I smell of fear, it’s because I don’t feel worthy of you.”
“Worthy?” Q snarled. “You don’t feel f**king worthy after everything you’ve lived through because of me?” Dragging hands through his hair, he glowered. “You still don’t get it.”
My pulse thudded. The memories I never allowed to surface bombarded me: the grisly bloody heart Q lay at my feet. The black raven wings he’d worn as my dark angel when I was drugged up and hallucinating. How could I feel worthy of someone so much more than me?
“No. You don’t get it. I came to you as a gift. You tormented my mind, turned my body against me, and showed me things I never would’ve been strong enough to want before you. Not only did you send me away because you thought you would ruin me, but you massacred an entire trafficking ring to save me.” My larynx snapped closed with emotion. I wished I could make him see how in awe I was. How much I loved him. Half of my soul throbbed with cosmically bright love while the other dripped in filth and ruin.
“You gave me not only your empire and love but also your greatest fear. Don’t you think I know how hard it was for you to let me tie you up and abuse you? You let me be your master, Q. How can I ever repay that?”
I expected Q to scream. To list the ways I’d repaid him in his f**ked-up rationality, but instead he propelled himself off the bed and stalked to the bathroom.
The door slammed shut; I waited in the centre of the bed for the shower to turn on or for something to smash as he took his violence out on the amenities.
Seconds after the door rattled in its hinges, Q stormed back out. “I’ll tell you how you can f**king repay me. You can marry me. Today. I’m not waiting any longer.” Q’s melodic accent cut through the room, whipping me with urgency.
“Any longer? You proposed yesterday.”
“Don’t answer back, Tess. Not unless you want me to drag your delicious body down the bed and f**k you. Having you argue is the worst kind of aphrodisiac, and I know you don’t want me.” Pacing like a caged animal, he snarled, “The knowledge you’d still spread your legs for me is wreaking havoc with my barometer of right and wrong.”
He took all choice away. He was right. I didn’t want him. Not while anger poured off him in crimson waves. But I did want the connection. I wanted to be reminded I hadn’t pushed him away even though I’d tried so damn hard. I wanted to apologise in more ways than words.
Q spun away and yanked open a dresser. Grabbing shirts and underwear, he snapped, “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”
I scooted off the bed, obeying instantly. “Where are we going?”
“Away from here. Away from memories.”
Stopping at the end of the bed, I frowned. “You can’t run from this. Only time will help us forget.”
Q stalked toward me. His low-slung cotton trousers defined his hard erection, clinging to his powerful thighs. He bristled, towering over me with authority. “I’m not running from, esclave. I’m running toward. Our future is unwritten. I’m sick of living in the past. It’s time to make you mine permanently. I’m taking you to a place where no one can find us.”
“Tess. Tu dors?” Are you asleep?
My eyes shot wide, connecting instantly with Q’s pale ones. Giving him a gentle smile, I shook my head. “Not asleep.” If I could have my way, I would never sleep again. I wanted to quit reliving my nightmares and live in the present where I had so much to be thankful for.
Q scowled, but slowly a soft smile danced on his lips. “We’re almost there. I didn’t want you to miss it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, affirming I was still alive and the catastrophe of our past was over.
Looking out the oval plane window, I glimpsed glittering ocean and landmasses on the horizon. I’m on my way to get married! Ever since Q placed the ring on my finger, he’d seemed possessed. Rushing forward, dragging me faster and faster toward the moment where we said ‘I do.’ It was crazy to hurry, madness to marry so fast, but all I could do was hold on and not let go of this magical whirlwind.
“I won’t miss a second.” I forced my smile to beam; Q relaxed under my gaze. He looked so dashing, so understatedly powerful. The corner of the bandage over his brand peeked through the open buttons of his green shirt.
The plane’s engines softened, nudging the nose toward earth. I’d grown so used to Q’s wealth—his helicopter, mansion, and property empire—but I would never like this aircraft.
Too many bad memories existed in the cream leather and honey wood. First being sold to him and freaking out while Franco watched, grinning like the devil, then when Q sent me home to Brax after turning my world upside down.
“I f**king love it when you smile.” Standing, he crossed the small aisle to kneel by my legs. My stomach twisted at seeing him bow before me. I’d never get used to the way he looked at me, or the sheer gratefulness glowing in his eyes.
Once, I’d believed life made me go through hell in order to deserve Q—to be worthy of the priceless gift of true love. Now, after Rio, my thoughts hadn’t changed. If anything, it’d been confirmed. I’d lived through hell in order to be deserving of this precious connection.
I had to be purged by evil to know perfection.
“Do you feel it? Do you feel lighter? Freer? There’s no better medicine for troubles than going somewhere new.” Sitting on his knees, he leaned forward, coming within kissing distance. His tongue came out, licking his bottom lip, drawing my attention.
My stomach clenched; I sucked in a fluttering breath. “I do feel it. I feel….” Scared and hopeful and frightened and happy and…
Q’s eyes dropped to my mouth; I couldn’t breathe. “What do you feel, esclave?” Slowly, his large hands landed on my denim-clad knees. While he wore stylish black slacks and a light-green shirt, I wore designer jeans and a wraparound cardigan with matching white scarf. France hadn’t been warm when Q rushed me out of the house and up the plane steps.
Q’s hands trailed higher, branding me beneath the heavy cotton. The ‘Q’ he’d burned onto my neck flared with heat, willing him to kiss me there—to take possession.
“Tell me. What do you feel?” His voice turned gruff and gravelly while his chest rose and fell.
I couldn’t sit upright. My bones melted—my entire body became hypnotized by his spell. I let myself drift, trying so hard to stay in the moment, chasing the slow burn of lust in my blood. “Your fingers. I feel your heat. I feel your breath on my face. I feel your lips achingly close to mine.”
Q’s fingers turned to talons on my upper thighs, pressing me into the plush leather. “Do you feel how much I need you? How much I want to take you. My way. All the f**king way.” His eyes flashed, sending sparks through my heart. “I want you, Tess. So damn much.”
Memories of him taking me in his helicopter clouded my mind. I’d wanted him past all sanity that day. I’d been wild at the thought of him spanking me, filling me…now all I felt was a hum of need—a dull light-bulb compared to the lightning bolt it used to be.
Add fuel. Coax it to grow.
Throwing myself into his control, I willed my need to build. I nodded. A small moan escaped my lips as his hands caressed upward. Gliding over my hips, he gripped my waist, holding me in place.
“Would you let me take you? Here? Now?” Q murmured, brushing his lips over mine in a teasing barely-there kiss.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Take me. Here. Now. Anywhere. I want—” I want to be me again. I want to be free.
Deliberately keeping my thoughts from skipping, I cupped his face, thrilling at the rough-smoothness of his jaw. He’d shaved but not to bare skin. I loved how untamed he looked even while he wore expensive clothing.
“What do you want?” he murmured, his lips a fraction from mine.
“I want—” I want to be able to love pain again. But it was like wishing upon a useless star. I might never be able to find passion in pain again. Not after what they made me do.
“Say it, esclave.”
Say what? The dreadful truth that I’d ruined our marriage before it’d even begun, or perhaps he wanted to hear yet more lies about how I hadn’t changed into a shadow of myself.
Q didn’t move, waiting for me to speak.
My chest hurt as I sucked in courage. “I want you to kiss me. Make me forget everything but your tongue and taste and need.”
Q didn’t hesitate.
His lips crashed against mine, pinning the back of my head against the leather. I moaned as his tongue speared into my mouth with his trademark self-assurance and domination. He tasted of darkness and sin, making me want to follow him to the ends of the earth.
Tilting his head, he licked my tongue, encouraging me to kiss him back. Willingly, I kissed harder, shivering in his hold as he groaned. Intensity built between us, wrapping us in a tight web of heat and want. Needing more—to show him how indebted I was—I grabbed his hands, placing them on my br**sts. The instant his large grip covered me, he lost control, kissing me brutally.
His lips bruised mine, heating, melting. It was soul-scorchingly deep as he devoured me into his world. Every sweep of his tongue helped bring me back to life. Every lick shed the greyness, granting colour once again.
His touch turned hard; I flinched as he twisted my ni**les through the material. The threat of pain would’ve sent me skyrocketing before but now it dampened my lust. The needful bubbles and sexual frustration popped in my blood, leaving me cold and lifeless.
No. Stop.
I hated how frigid I’d become. How conditioned I was to run from all types of pain.
Q stiffened; his touch froze.
I couldn’t let him guess how much I hated all forms of agony. It turned me from wet to dry. From willing to averse.
He can’t know.
“Q—God, make me forget. Please make me forget,” I panted into his mouth. Please don’t guess.
Q didn’t kiss me back, instead he pulled away, pinning me with his pale stare. Goosebumps broke out over my skin as I shuddered. Ominous foreshadowing prickled my spine. What if I never found that part of myself again? I couldn’t let him marry me thinking I was his perfect other when I no longer wanted his belts or chains or whips.
Cupping his cheek I breathed hard, fighting against the prick of tears. “Kiss me. Do anything you want to me.”
The pain in his eyes almost unravelled my despair. His face shut down to unreadable. Tenderly, he turned his head, pressing a kiss against my palm. “God, I want to. How I want to hurt you, kiss you, f**k you. ” Hiding his emotions behind a careful mask, he smiled. “But I rather like denying myself. Looking at you, fantasising of all the things I want to do but not giving myself permission to do them.”
My heart broke. Q just lied. He lied to give me space. He lied to keep me from going back to the one thing he hated and feared the most—my tower.
He leaned closer, bringing his intoxicating heat and smell of citrus. “Stop.”
I didn’t know what to stop. My black thoughts? My terror at f**king up the best thing that’d ever happened to me?
I threw my arms around his neck, dragging his mouth to mine. I blocked off my endless questions and pretended. I found solace in acting the part of unbroken Slave Fifty-eight who Quincy Mercer hadn’t been able to send away. I gave him everything I could.
But it wasn’t enough.
Q slammed the heel of his palm against my chest, holding me against the chair. “You can’t lie with words, and you can’t lie by actions. Stop. Stop making a fool out of me by thinking I buy your bullshit, Tess.”