Dirty Revenge (Dirty 3)

“Soon, but I’m not sure I can bring you with me, or if I do if I can let you kill him. I’ve been planning this for five years. I need to be the one to kill him. I can’t just hand you the gun like I did with Roman.”

It hurts that I won’t be the one to kill him, but as long as he’s dead, it doesn’t matter. “I understand.”

He narrows his eyes. “How could you? My wife was taken from me, but you were the one who went through so much. And I let it happen.”

I grab his face and kiss him softly, annoyed even though I’ve forgiven him, he still hasn’t forgiven himself.

“Stop. I understand. I didn’t die. I didn’t lose anything. You did.”

He turns away, not able to look at me. I hate it when he does this. Shuts me out. I know he doesn’t owe me anything. We aren’t in a real relationship. I don’t even know what “we” are. But it still hurts.

He turns back. “Take your revenge out on me.”

I frown. “No, I forgive you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

His thumb strokes my cheek before he pulls me onto his lap. “I need you to. I can’t forgive myself. My nightmares are no longer about Clara. They are about you. Every night I have a nightmare about what Dante did to you. I hate myself for letting him lay a hand on you, much less hurt you every night. I can’t live with myself. Take out your revenge on me.”

I search his eyes and find him near breaking. He needs this. And when I search my heart, I realize I do too. I may have forgiven him, but it still hurts. I need to let the pain go. And this might be how.

“Okay.”

He lifts me and sets me down on my feet. Then he gathers his computer and empty wine glass and walks inside. I follow after, both terrified and exhilarated with what is about to happen.

He sets the computer and glass down on the counter where Michi is still cleaning.

Caspian looks at Michi, and he knows. Michi really needs his own place if Caspian is going to keep kicking him out. Michi heads out without a word.

Then, Caspian walks to the bedroom. My feet can barely move, but I make it somehow. Must be muscle memory that moves me.

I stand in the doorway and watch as Caspian gathers items. Whips, chains, floggers, knives, anything destructive he can find. He lays them all out on the bed. And then he starts undressing. Removing his shirt slowly, then his pants, until he’s standing in nothing but his underwear. He considers his next move for a second and then he removes his boxers too. It’s not sexual. He’s baring his all to me.

And I’ve never seen a stronger man.

“Please,” he whispers, and I know what he’s asking. Please make the pain go away, for both of us.

Then he lies down on the bed and waits.

I take a couple of deep breaths, letting go of the compassion I have for Caspian and let the hate I’ve pushed away back in.

He could have saved me but didn’t.

I repeat those words over and over until I’m lost in them. Then I stomp toward the chains, knowing I have to tie him up. No matter how much he says he wants this, as soon as the first crack of pain hits him, he will try to stop me. For this to work, he has to be completely vulnerable.

So I pick up the metal cuffs and loop one around the post and then attach the cuff to his wrist. He looks at me with sad eyes but doesn’t say anything. He just watches. I feel the fear oozing off of him, but know it has nothing to do with the pain he’s about to feel. It has everything to do with us. Where will we be when this is over?

I walk to his other arm and attach it to the bed, doing the same to his legs.

“Try to break free,” I command.

He pulls hard with his arms and legs, but he can’t move.

I nod and then close my eyes. Filling everything in me with the memories of Dante. Him striking me, beating me, raping me. His cock driving into me is what does it the most. So I focus on the image. Of what it felt like to have a cock push into me when I’m dry and unwilling. The burn, the violation, the pain. I let it consume me, and then I open my eyes.

I don’t see Caspian lying on the bed; I see Dante.

I grab the first item I can find. A bat. I bring it high over my head and then I beat down on the broken body in front of me.

“I fucking hate you!” I scream as I hit the body hard in the stomach. I can’t see anything but rage.