Twisted Together
Page 51

“I’m never afraid when I’m with you. Because I trust you.”
Tess filled my mind, giving me something to latch onto. I couldn’t see past the black towel, but I didn’t need to. I didn’t want to look at anything but the woman I wanted to marry.
My stomach clenched at the thought of anyone else making her happy. I couldn’t bear the idea of her falling for another or marrying someone completely unworthy. My forehead furrowed, loving the memories of her and hating them, too. Knowing I’d never see her again hurt more than anything Lynx could do.
I’d never see my perfect esclave again.
Je t'aime, Tess.
Fuck, I wanted this over with. I wanted to stop thinking and just…go.
I made a vow not to scream. I wouldn’t die a pu**y. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of tearing my life from an unwilling body. I’d brought this on myself—I’d been too proud—too cocky, and I would pay the worst kind of price.
“Do it,” Lynx ordered.
Water poured onto my face, seeping through the towel. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as liquid saturated the material, suffocating me drop by drop.
Waterboarding.
I’d seen it done. I’d witnessed a few women die from such a simple but very effective method of torturing.
The towel went from dry to soaked instantly, clinging like a heavy film over my mouth and nose. The weight of the material increased, smothering my face, giving me nowhere to turn or hide.
My mouth gaped, sucking at non-existent oxygen, breathing in wet towel and nothing else.
Don’t panic. Just let it happen.
It was fine to order myself to do something—entirely different when my body took over. Survival instincts kicked in. I thrashed, trying to dislodge the never ending stream of water.
My stomach clenched, overriding the numbness in my spine and bruises on every inch. I hurled upright, doing everything in my power to free my nose.
But it was no use.
Goddammit, let me breathe!
Time ceased to have meaning as the trickle became a downpour, no longer stealing my breath but forcing a torrent of water down my throat—drowning me in more ways than one.
“More. Give him more,” Dante demanded.
The water level increased until I gave up trying to breathe. It was pointless. Holding what little oxygen I had, I counted the seconds until I died.
One second.
Two seconds.
Another wash of liquid tickled my throat, running in rivulets over my hair.
Three seconds.
Four seconds.
There was no point being brave. I was about to die.
My heart chased the last breath around my lungs.
Five seconds.
Six seconds.
My body absorbed the final dregs of oxygen—nothing remained. My body was master now—not my mind. Death throes took me hostage. Muscles jerked, hurtling me toward death, desperately fighting the restraints.
I would’ve given every cent I owned to have one last breath. One inhale of sweet, sweet oxygen. Even Tess couldn’t distract me from the all-consuming need for air.
“I held on for you to find me. You came even when I didn’t think you would. Hold on, Q. I’m coming.”
Tess’s voice was angelic, cutting through my panic. I wanted to tell her I couldn’t. There was no point in her coming to find me. I wouldn’t be there when Franco’s team arrived. I no longer knew the timeframe after being unconscious.
But I didn’t need to know. I ran out of time the moment I refused to accept a blowjob from a slave.
Air. Please give me air.
My body danced in its chains, slowly growing weaker as blackness inched over my brain.
Then I got my wish.
The towel left my face, and I threw all dignity to the dogs. I gulped and gulped, sucking in air as if I was starving—which I was. Starved of the simplest thing a human required to live.
Then, I screamed.
The f**king cocksucker made me scream. I had no choice. I couldn’t contain the pain.
The agony came from my shin bone. Using the rapidly depleting muscles in my stomach, I curled upward, fixing onto the blood dripping from my sliced flesh. It trickled down my skin, running toward my groin.
Lynx stood beside me with a knife. The blade smeared with crimson. “We’re going to begin a game. Every breath must be paid by a cut.” His face moulded into the true devil. He cut me again, just below the first. I bit my lip against the sharpness—refusing to scream again.
“Every breath has a price. And when we get to here—”
Everything in me froze to ice. The tip of his knife wedged beneath my flaccid cock, raising the heavy organ from my stomach. Shit, shit. No, don’t.
The sharp blade exploded my heart with horror. Fuck, let me die.
“When we’ve used up your legs for payment…this comes next. I don’t expect you’ll survive much longer after that.” He twisted the blade, letting my c**k slap against my stomach. Lynx pressed the serrated edge against my balls, deliberately dragging the knife lower and lower, right to the base—right where he would eunuch me and let me bleed to f**king death.
My head pounded—the need to replace air to my oxygen-depraved body forgotten. The beast inside turned feral—wanting so damn much for freedom to mutilate him in the same way.
I wouldn’t have the opportunity to pay him back. I wouldn’t be able to take payment for what he would steal.
“You know why I’ll take this as my final trophy, Mercer?”
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to—he was high on whatever sick power trip he existed on.
“I gave you the opportunity to use it. If you’d blown down that girl’s throat I would’ve let you keep it. If you’d f**ked her in front of me, I would’ve let you walk away without torture. And if you’d killed her—like I know your sadistic tendencies make you want to—I would’ve forgotten this whole thing. Shit, I would’ve stood by you and assured the rest of the men who want a piece of you that you’re one of us. That the lies you told were for the media and not to the men you pretended to be like.”
Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear, “If only you’d played along—see how you could’ve survived?” Swirling the knife around an inked sparrow, he muttered, “Now you’ve pissed me off and I won’t be happy just taking your life. You think you’ll be free when you’re dead?” He shrugged.” You will be I suppose, but know this. I’m not done with you yet. I’m going to chase your little slave. I’m going to take her. I’m going to f**k her. And then I’m going to kill her just like I killed you.”
No!
“Don’t you f**king touch her. You have me. Do whatever the hell you want but leave her the f**k alone!”
Rage. Blinding, suffocating rage. I couldn’t do it. He’d stolen the luxury of slipping into death. He’d taken away my will to die, replacing it with the terror of knowing I could do nothing to stop him.
Tess!
“Do you hear me? You stay the f**k away from her.”
I couldn’t let them take her again. I didn’t care that Franco would never let her out of his sight. He had his orders. If he didn’t find me in time, his loyalty was to her. He would give his life to protect hers—just as he did for me.
Lynx laughed. “You aren’t in the position to tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re going to die, Mercer, but at least you won’t be alone in hell for long. She’ll be joining you soon enough.” The knife pricked my c**k again. “Pity for you, you won’t have a dick to use when you see her again.”
“Ne pas la toucher. Vous ne pouvez pas la toucher.” Don't touch her. You can't touch her.
“Speaking in French doesn’t work on a Spaniard, idiot.” He removed the blade. “Cover him.”
I sucked in gulp of air as the wet towel descended over my face. My heart bucked with terror. I had to warn Franco, Frederick. I had to get Tess to safety. She wouldn’t die because of me. She wouldn’t!
“Begin,” Dante ordered.
The cascade started anew, drowning me with the aid of a simple cloth.
My lungs turned to fire. Seconds flew toward minutes as more and more water cascaded. I forced myself not to suck in the towel, desperate for breath.
Unconsciousness tried to claim me but I fought it. I couldn’t. Tess!
But no matter how hard I held on, my brain shut down, body jerked; I died with every pour.
My life didn’t exist apart from the black water-world. My thoughts scrambled. Tess. Air. Tess. Air.
I wanted both in equal measure. I wanted to run. I wanted to be free.
Tess morphed into being. Her gorgeous blonde curls, her all seeing blue-grey eyes. A halo of light appeared behind her, fading her from view as my heart threw itself toward its last beat.
Tess, run. Please.
Her presence never left me as a wave of heavy water splashed over me. I toppled on the edge, gasping, choking. Lynx overestimated my lung capacity—hurtling me toward death.
The last torrent of liquid was my demise.
Don’t give up. You can’t. I owed it to Tess to stay alive. I had to protect her. I had to be there for her always.
“Come with me, Q. Let go. It’s better this way.” The illusion grabbed me by the hands, dragging me forward. I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice.
My body gave up. Suffocated of air it shut down—snipping my life-force free from pain.
The agony faded, inch by inch, ache by ache, until I felt nothing.
Nothing but weightlessness…nothingness.
Sounds faded. The strain in my lungs no longer mattered.
Life tiptoed away from me, taking with it any promise of happiness I might’ve found by marrying my soul-mate.
But my soul-mate wanted me to leave with her. Her golden hand outstretched, glowing with welcome light. She wanted me to leave this black cold place.
I could be with her forever.
I want to be with you forever, esclave.
“Then let go. I’m waiting.”
I didn’t think why she appeared when she was living not dead. I didn’t stop to ponder how she found me. All I knew was what I wanted. And I wanted her.
I let go. I went to her. I obeyed my esclave.
Dying was such a simple thing.
I felt no guilt, no terror, no worries. Only acceptance for something I couldn’t change.
Darkness came for me.
My golden girl stuttered out.
The light she’d teased me was gone.
The sun turned to an eclipse and…I fell. Like an unwanted star I fell from the promise of heaven and plummeted to where I belonged.
Falling, falling.
Falling.
I fell straight into hell.
Chapter Thirteen
Matching darkness, mirroring light, truth and love we took flight,
one esclave and one maître, no longer captive or thief, just perfect certainty and belief
Franco’s phone rang.
I froze. Instincts screamed, slicing sharp fingernails of panic down the chalkboard of my spine.
The car turned from saviour, rushing us to Q’s aid, to a decaying coffin.
“Don’t—”
Franco glanced over, his vivid eyes dulling with horror. “I have no choice.” Shoving his uninjured hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out the chiming doom.
Don’t let it be. Don’t.
We were almost there. The plane ride had driven me crazy—I would’ve sold my heart to be teleported or something to get us there faster. We’re so close!
It won’t be. It can’t be.
I couldn’t breathe as Franco held the phone to his ear. His face went deadly white. Not uttering a word, he passed the cell to me.
My fingers turned to ice-cubes; all I wanted to do was hurl the phone from the car window, smashing the bad news before it could be made real.
It’s not true.
He’s fine.
The phone was a vulture stealing my happiness as I placed it to my ear.
“Tess?” Frederick’s voice echoed all the way from Paris.
My heart went from beating to nothing. His tone said all I needed to know. I couldn’t move. Locked in my chair, I became a statue of grief.
Frederick sucked in a shaky breath. “You there? Tess?”
I knew.
I knew why he called. It didn’t matter we were ten minutes away. It didn’t matter we had an army behind us. It didn’t f**king matter. None of it.
Because my maître was gone.
I’d felt it.
An empty hollowness inside—gaping wide, cavernous.
“Don’t, Frederick.”
A long pause. No one spoke, breathed, lived. The world shut down forever.
“I’m so sorry, Tess…the frequency. It stopped.”
My heart replicated his words—turning from living to stone. The dawn on the horizon mocked me with a new beginning when I no longer had one.
My finger went to the reject button, cutting the call just as Frederick whispered, “He’s dead.”
He’s dead.
He’s gone.
He left without me.
Very slowly with infinite control, I passed the phone to Franco. He took it, brushing his fingers with mine. “Tess…”
I recoiled. I didn’t want anyone touching me. No one. Never again. Loving was a weakness. Touch was an annihilation. Q had destroyed me.
He’s gone.
The words pierced my heart with a thousand needles, puncturing my soul. He’s gone.
Everything inside—all the goodness, happiness, hopefulness…everything shrivelled up. My will to live turned to black ash, sifting from my pours like dirty rain. Everything I’d been through. It’d all been pointless.
He f**king left me.
Bastard.
Anger was better than grief. It filled the cavernous hole, giving me something to latch onto.