“It’s none of your fucking business,” I scream at the top of my lungs, anger and agony mixing together. “Fuck you! I’m stronger.”
He lets it rain down on me. It comes from everywhere. There’s a fire under my skin, in my body, in my throat, and in my eyes. I’m consumed by flames. My arms are being torn from my body. I’m not so strong, after all.
“Why? Say it.” He’s out of breath. “Make it stop.”
My head drops back. The whip flies past my cheek, barely missing. Or maybe it’s just the sound. Everything sounds closer, deeper, further, darker.
“Say it.” He’s lost his coolness, his utter control. His voice is angrier than the whip. “Say it’s to buy your no-good father’s freedom. Say it’s because you hate me. Say it’s because you need your overrated freedom.”
Isn’t there a point where the pain is supposed to start feeling good? Isn’t there a point where my brain is supposed to start fooling me with endorphins?
He gives himself free reign, this time not speaking, not giving me a reprieve to drag in air, not killing me to be kinder.
I’m not so strong, and I hate myself for it.
“Why?”
“For my baby!”
For my baby. I wail and sob and hurt, not for him, but for my baby. My sweet, dear, innocent baby. The pain he gives me is not enough to smother this bigger pain, the one I’d buried so well after so long. There’s no physical pain in the world that can make me forget, and for the very first time in my life I truly wish I were dead.
“Lina, fuck. What did you say?”
He’s on me, behind me, I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m not so strong.
I’m drifting.
I’m gone.
Chapter 17
Damian
The door crashes into the wall. Russell enters. I jerk the throw from the bed and cover Lina’s body before grabbing her around the waist, taking the strain off her arms.
Russell stares.
“What the fuck do you want?”
He drags a hand through his hair without moving his eyes away from Lina’s unconscious form. “I came inside for a glass of water. Heard screaming.”
“Get out.”
“No.” He braces his hands on the doorframe as if he needs to keep up the walls, as if the room is going to collapse around us. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Hand in your resignation tomorrow morning. You’re dismissed.” Fuck. She passed out. She had this. I was sure of her limits.
“I’m taking her to a hospital.”
“She doesn’t need a hospital.” She needs me.
“Mr. Hart, you’re not thinking rationally.”
Damn wrong. I’ve never been more rational. “My wife is naked. I need to tend to her. If you get as much as a glimpse at her body, I’ll have to kill you. For the last time, get the fuck out.”
He hovers, rolls on the balls of his feet, and punches the wall. “You need to take care of that.” He points at a red welt on her naked shoulder. “I’m leaving for Lina, not for you.”
He cares for her. I knew it. I let it carry on for too long, but he’s a damn good bodyguard. I understand his reaction. He’s never seen a woman whipped, but he trusts me with her life, or he wouldn’t bang the door shut and let me hear his footsteps fall down the tiled strip before the carpet swallows the sounds.
As if one intrusion wasn’t enough, the door opens again. This time, it’s Zane.
He looks from me to Lina. “Fuck, Dami. What have you done?”
“Bring a knife. Cut her loose.” It’ll take too long to untie her.
“Damn you, Damian.”
I know how upset he is for using my full name. He takes a utility knife from his pocket and starts sawing at the ropes. The threads come undone, one by one. When the last one snaps, her arms fall limp.
Keeping the throw around her, I lower her onto the bed.
“Fuck, Damian.” Zane paces up and down. “Fuck, fuck.”
“Leave us.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I said fucking leave us.”
“Shall I get tea? Sugar water? A doctor?”
“It looks worse than it is.” She had this, dammit. I wasn’t pushing her beyond her limits.
“Shall I get Anne?”
“If you don’t get out now, you can bring me my gun. I’ll put a bullet in your kneecap. Will that help you understand?”
“Fine.” He holds up his hands. “I’m going.” He retreats to the door. “I’m going.”
The door closes for a second time, at last giving me the privacy I need. I pull the throw from Lina’s body. She’s lying on her back. Not ideal, but I’ll turn her soon enough. I make quick work of studying the color of her lips and nails. Blushing pink. Her breathing is even and strong.
Gently, I slap her cheek. “Come back, Lina.”
Her eyelashes flutter.
Another slap. “Wake up, baby. Look at me.”
She comes back with a gasp. Her eyes fly open and her mouth forms an O.