Hear Me - Page 22

Not anymore.

In a sudden motion, I jerked my head back. A crack sounded in my ear, followed by a pained groan. The impact hurt me too, but if there was one thing to be grateful for in all this, it was that my pain tolerance was practically a superpower at this point. When he tried to restrain me by my hair, I felt it rip from my scalp. When he grabbed hold of my wrist, I twisted hard, sending agony through my shoulder by breaking free in the same motion.

I shrugged off his attacks as if he were a butterfly flapping at my face. After fumbling with the lock, I flung open the lid of the trunk. A whip. That damned collar. There. The leather bundle unrolled, dropping the knife into my hand.

I whirled, and his look of shock sent dark satisfaction through me. I wondered if this is what the men had who hurt me had felt, the fear of his victim an aphrodisiac to violence.

“I was worried about you,” he said. “Worried we’d gone too far.”

His words distracted me. I had suspected he was involved with the men who had held me prisoner, but this was as close to an admission as I was likely to get.

“Why? Why would you do it?” My voice cracked.

His lids lowered. “Trust me, you wanted it.”

I should have expected a sick, blame-the-victim excuse. “I guess that helps you sleep at night.”

“To be honest, I haven’t slept that much lately.” He paused. “Like I said, I’d been worried.”

Confused, the knife lowered a bit. He helped men who tortured and raped women, but he worried about us? I would have thought he was batshit crazy except that he seemed perfectly lucid, and definitely regretful.

A squeak at the door was my only warning. I scrambled for some way to explain, but it was too late. Sam took one look at me and then crossed the room to tackle Brendan. They fought like wild animals, teeth bared and bodies tangling. Blows exchanged almost too fast to count, too vicious to hope Sam wouldn’t be hurt.

They were lost to their rage, and I knew it was more than this, more than me. It was the woman that came before me, it was years of competing and bitterness, it was being born to a sibling he hated but loving him anyway.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Stop fighting. Please.”

I had become irrelevant, standing in the corner. I wanted to make them stop but short of running into the fray myself or stabbing one of them, I didn’t know how to grab their attention. Beside me, a long single-tail lay coiled where I’d pulled it from the trunk. The sight of it normally struck fear in me, but this time there was only sick calm.

I picked it up and tentatively snapped the whip. The writhing mass of pissed off males moved out of the way, and the leather slapped wood instead. This time I hit Sam on the back. It didn’t slow them down, but when the whip licked the side of Brendan’s neck, he yelped.

They fought still, but the air had shifted. Sensing weakness, smelling blood, an animal would go for the kill. Instead, they pulled their punches, aimed for sturdier places, blood bonds conquering bloodlust once again.

With a final surge, Sam pinned Brendan face down on the floor in a twisted imitation of the way Brendan had once held me. Though subdued, he didn’t look at all submissive.

“You bastard,” Sam said in a low voice that filled the room. “How dare you come into my house. Touch my girl.”

Brendan’s laugh sent shivers through me. “You think she’s yours?”

The cool confidence in his voice seemed to give Sam pause. He eased off a bit. “I don’t care what she said. What you did to seduce her. You knew she was mine. You knew I wanted her to be.”

Brendan’s shoulders slumped into the floor, and he finally looked defeated even as Sam stood. Brendan staggered up, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. “You’re right about that. I knew exactly how much it would hurt to see me with her. Maybe that’s why I did it. Fuck.” He put a fist to his forehead, and he looked so oddly pained that it caused an answering pang in my stomach.

Even Sam seemed surprised. He eased off and leaned, panting, against the wall. “Get the hell out. Don’t ever come back.”

Brendan stood. He looked like he was about to fall over, but he caught himself. “Fine. I’ll leave. I know I fucked this up. If she wants to stay here, she can. But I was right about one thing.” The look he gave me caught my breath with its intensity. “She doesn’t belong here.”

He left, and the door slammed shut followed by the sound of his heavy, uneven footsteps leading away. Then there was only the sound of my breathing, overshadowed by Sam’s harsh breaths.

I wrapped my arms around myself, but the chill was too deep. “I didn’t want him.”

He slanted me a look but didn’t say anything. His chest heaved, muscles bulging from the white undershirt he wore. Already a bruise was forming on his cheek.

“Please, Sam.” My voice shook. “I am yours. That’s what I wanted.”

“And what do you want now?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know. I just know… I remembered who I am.”

Tags: Skye Warren Dark
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