Blyss (The Blyss Trilogy 1)

Silence encased the room. Travis rolls his shoulders then begins pacing back and forth. His hands thread through the sides of his hair in frustration. I take a step forward away from the cross, getting ready to let him have an even bigger piece of my mind, but before I can take a second step, he has me shoved back against the cross, breathing roughly into my face. His hands have my arms stretched out against the cross, and as he holds me by my wrists, I feel panic begin to surface.

“What are you doing?” I choke out in worry.

“What I should have done a few days ago.” I feel him work the shackles around my wrists. I’ll be damned if I make it easy on him, so I start to struggle, trying to break free. He’s too strong for me, though, and once he has one wrist secured, he easily uses both of his hands to secure my other one. My chest heaves, clamoring for air.

“You’re skating on thin ice right now, more than you will ever know. I’ve gone to bat for you. I’ve done shit to protect you, shit you don’t even know about, and this...this is how you repay me?” Travis bellows. He’s so enraged, his nostrils flair, and I flinch at his words.

He backs away from me, and I watch him as he paces around. He stops at the edge of the sofa and leans over it. The back of the cushions compress from the death grip he has on them as he closes his eyes, breathing heavily.

When he speaks, he sounds deceivingly-calm. Keeping his eyes closed he says, “I can no longer help you, Julianna. With your stunt today, it’s pushed Nick over the edge.”

I pull on my restraints. “No, Travis, there is where you are wrong. I’m not stupid. Nick pushed himself over the edge in a fit of jealousy. I just topped it off.”

He pushes away from the sofa and strolls over to me with his jaws clenched, and I shrink back. His stone face is back in place, and I’m wondering if he’s going to hurt me. He’s shattered my heart today. I hate myself for allowing feelings to be garnered for him when clearly I’m nothing more than a sniveling little pain in his ass.

I can feel my own heart palpatating in my chest when he doesn’t stop advancing on me. His fingers thread through mine, and he leans in to whisper in my ear, causing my skin to prickle. “You have to stop your defiant and rebellious behavior, or you’re going to find yourself in the slave market.”

With his confession off his lips, my stomach rolls, and I feel tears again, but I don’t care. I feel as if I’d rather die.

“You are out of my hands if Nick sells you, Julianna. You better pull your shit together and quickly.” His soft breath lingers at my ear, and I shiver. Damn him. Damn it all. A large part of me was hoping Travis really cared for me, or even that he was going to save me, but after today, I can see just whose side he’s on. I deserve this, I think to myself. I saw this very thing happening from day one.

“Do you understand? You better be scared; I have a job to do, and now you are out of my hands,” he emphasizes.

“Well, that should make you happy then...me being out of your hands,” I croak menacingly. My eyelashes are soaked, and I narrow my eyes, focusing on anger and rage instead of pitying myself.

He backs away from me, his body shaking with pure aggravation. He leans over and violently punches the Plexiglass beside my head, hard and fast. I hear a loud shattering sound as fragments crash to the floor. I immediately flinch away, squeezing my eyes tightly against the horror. “Do you want to be out of my hands, Julianna?” he roars, causing my body to shutter and shake uncontrollably. “Answer me!”

“Yes…no, I don’t know!” I scream defensively. “I just want to go home,” I sob.

“This is your home! Your home is where Nick tells you it is, and you should be damn thankful it’s not in a cantina somewhere.” He’s scaring me; he’s so hard and cold. I don’t recognize this man in front of me. “Little girl, you don’t own yourself anymore. Your freedom is gone, so lose the fucking freedom-fighter role. Do you understand?” he bellows. His eyes no longer hold their beautiful iridescent color; they look dark and ominous.

Tears begin rolling down my cheeks; I hiccup, and somehow manage to whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“You want to know what a cantina would be like, Julianna?” I shake my head in an emphatic no. “What? You mean you’re not curious? How about I give you a firsthand experience of what you’re missing?” His voice is hateful, evil, and merciless. “Come on, baby. I know you must want this; otherwise, you wouldn’t have disobeyed. How about we try out this cat-o’-nine-tails? Hmm?” He reaches through the jagged opening his fist had created and pulls out an implement. “Oh, or maybe a cane? That will fuckin’ get your attention, because it seems nothing else will!” he yells the last of his words. My breath hitches as he dusts my chest with the leather whip, or whatever the hell it is, and I can’t catch my breath. “Or have you secretly been wanting to be a bad little girl all along, throwing a fit so one of us will give you the kink?”