by Kitty Thomas
Lindsay shook his head sadly. He'd already made up his mind. It was clearly visible in the stress lines on his face.
“I treated Brian for a long time. I know him better than almost anyone in the world. Maybe as well or better than Mina does. And I know without any doubt that he would stalk us and find us. There is no place on this earth we could go where he wouldn't eventually find us. He will not allow us to be happy together.”
“Well then won't he just come after me if I'm with Damian?”
Lindsay shook his head. “It's not about hurting you, not really. He just doesn't want me to have you. If I give you to Damian, he'll let it go because either way I can't have you, and that's what he wants—to take something from me.”
“We could still see each other. You could come see me at Damian's house? Or I could see you at your office?” She knew she was grasping. She knew there was no part of him that could do that. It would be too painful for both of them to have such small stolen moments, always in hiding from Brian.
“If I was with you, even for a little while, I'd be happy. And Brian would know, and you wouldn't be safe. He won't stop unless he knows you're out of my life. This vendetta he's built up in his head toward me, it's not reasonable but it doesn't matter. He's not reasonable.”
She knew he was right but she didn't want him to be right. She didn't want to just be a piece on somebody else's chess board being molded and shaped and managed by the men around her. She laid her head against Lindsay's chest and sobbed.
73
It was after ten pm when Damian arrived at the house. He parked his BMW in the circular driveway and turned off the ignition. Lindsay's directions had been surprisingly easy to follow given the isolation of this place. Who the hell built a mansion like this out in the middle of nowhere? He took several deep breaths to calm himself.
He didn't know who he was more angry with, the vicious psychopath for hurting her again, or Lindsay for letting her live in the same house with that rabid animal. He took another deep breath. After what she'd just been through, being out of control would only scare her more. Even after the weekend they'd just shared, Damian was under no illusions about how this would go down.
Lindsay had no doubt decided not to even tell her about the plan for all three of them. Now that the plan was dead on arrival, what would be the point? So she just thought she was being thrown away again. Lindsay. That fucking asshole.
But it was hard to hold onto that anger knowing what he was about to possess. He got out of the car and locked the doors with a quick press of a button on his key ring, then he rang the doorbell of the large estate.
A blond man in his thirties answered the door. “You must be Damian,” he said. “They're in Lindsay's office. This way.”
The guy didn't bother introducing himself and quite frankly Damian didn't give a shit what his name was. Damian followed him through the house. Several young women in their early twenties stood in groups along the walls, checking him out and whispering. They all wore casual colorful sweatshorts and strappy t-shirts like they were having a sleepover.
The blond guy knocked on a door down one of the hallways on the main floor.
“Come in,” Lindsay called from the other side.
The blond guy went back toward the front of the house and Damian stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
This office was smaller than the one in the city. Lindsay sat in a large leather swivel chair behind the desk and looked up to acknowledge him. It was grim in here. Shannon sat in the chair opposite from Lindsay. She hadn't bothered to look up at Damian. She sat quietly crying—like her world had just broken apart.
And even though she could have died tonight, Damian didn't think she was crying about that. She was crying about this. What was about to happen.
“Come here,” Lindsay said to her.
She slowly got out of the chair, wiped the tears off her face, still avoiding looking at Damian, and went to where Lindsay sat. He didn't tell her to but she knelt in front of him and laid her head on his thigh, her small hand stroking him through his pants as if she could coax him with sex to keep her.
“Please, Master, don't do this. I don't want to go.”
Lindsay didn't say anything to that, he just reached around her throat and removed the collar. That action resulted in full-on sobbing.
“No!” She reached for it, but Lindsay held it out of her reach. He put the collar in a black velvet box and put it inside the desk drawer.
Then his hand was on her upper back, resting there. He stroked her hair. “You belong to Damian, now,” he said. “You have to accept this. Obey me this one last time and go with him.”
She finally looked up, her face red from crying, tear-streaked. Her gaze found Damian as if he were a complete stranger she hadn't spent the weekend with. As if they hadn't bonded. As if they hadn't laughed together.
He tried not to let it bother him. Of course she didn't want to leave Lindsay. She obviously loved him.
When she didn't make a move, Lindsay looked at Damian and nodded. Damian sighed and went over and pulled her up off the ground. She shrieked like a banshee and flailed. Lindsay made eye contact again and then looked pointedly at a paddle hanging on the wall beside the desk. This time it was Damian who nodded.
“Hold her,” Damian said.
Lindsay gripped her wrists and held her in place. Their eyes locked together. She didn't realize what was about to happen. She just knew that her master's attention was on her once again.
Damian swung the paddle. It landed with a hard crack against her ass, the sound filling the small room. She let out a howl and struggled against Lindsay's grip, no doubt wanting to rub the sting out.
“Are you going to calm your ass down, or do you want more?” Damian asked, his tone hard.
She turned to him, a hurt look of betrayal in her eyes, like he was breaking some kind of promise to her. But he'd told her he would punish her.
“Let's go,” Damian said. He was too angry about this entire situation to use the soothing voice with her, even though he knew he should use the soothing voice with her.
Lindsay released her wrists.
“I'm not leaving,” Shannon said. As if she had the power to decide that.
Lindsay rose from his chair and moved to a cabinet. Shannon's wary focus was on Damian. She looked ready to fight, scream, kick, do whatever it took to keep him from taking her. How the fuck was he going to get her home in this state?
A moment later, Lindsay was behind her, gripping her arm. “I'm so sorry I have to do this, Shannon.”
She didn't register the prick of the needle at first. When she did, she looked between Damian and Lindsay, shock and betrayal warring inside her, clearly unsure which one of them she should hate more. Then her eyes drifted closed and she collapsed against Lindsay.
“Well, that's one way to handle her, I guess,” Damian said.
“It was an extreme circumstance. Don't you dare drug her,” Lindsay said, tossing the used syringe in the trash can beside his desk. “It'll buy you some time.”
As if Damian would ever drug her. As if he even had access to whatever horse-class sedative the doctor had just pushed into her bloodstream. Damian held out his arms and Lindsay passed Shannon's limp body to him. When he held her, Lindsay unlocked and removed the metal bracelet from her wrist. Then he brushed the hair out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Go, get her out of here.”
Damian carried her out of the office, down the hall, and past the crowd of whispers. The blond man held the front door open for him, then went outside to open the passenger side of the car. When Shannon was safely strapped in, the blond man turned and went back into the house without another word.
Damian opened the glove box and took out a coil of rope. He hadn't believed the doctor when he'd said Damian might have to restrain her to get her home. Now he was glad he'd listened. There was no telling how she'd react when she woke from the drugs.
He quickly tied h
er hands and moved around to the driver's side to start the car.
He was grateful she was unconscious. It gave him space to think. He hadn't had a moment to think straight since getting Lindsay's call. When the doctor had told him what had happened, all Damian could think about was how fast he could get her out of that fucking house and to some place safe.
He was surprised by just how attached he was to her already, how attached he was to the whole idea of her. And now that he had her, tied up and drugged in his car, the reality of what the fuck he was doing started to hit him.
This was a felony. He was committing a felony. He was now a... kidnapper. He couldn't bring himself to leave her in that house with Brian. And he couldn't call the cops. It would implicate Lindsay. He couldn't let this girl go. She couldn't take care of herself. She had nowhere to go. She couldn't stay at the house with that psychopath. What else was he supposed to do?
When someone you cared about was in trouble, you helped them. The problem was, she wasn't going to interpret this as help, and the law was on her side.
These thoughts kept spinning through his head faster and faster as he drove down the long dark empty road. If someone had told him a few months ago he'd accidentally commit a felony, he wasn't sure he would have believed them. It wasn't as though he'd planned this.
Yes, he'd agreed to all the things Lindsay had laid out. But Shannon had wanted... It wasn't as though she were being kept chained in a basement. But now she wasn't a willing participant. Whatever closeness and pleasure they may have shared less than twenty-four hours before, she was an unwilling captive now.
He couldn't let her go. He couldn't take her to the police. How would he explain the drug she'd been injected with? How would he explain any of it? And even if he could, would she agree to his version of events? Doubtful.
There was that saying, the house always wins. It was about gambling and casinos, but it felt fitting now. Because somehow that large white house out in the middle of nowhere had won. Somehow Damian had allowed himself to get sucked into this mess and now he had an actual fucking hostage. This woman didn't want to be with him now. She wanted Lindsay.
For whatever insane reason, she wanted to live with that criminal doctor, a man engaged in selling women like livestock. Oh sure, the story was that everybody was getting their needs met. Whatever the fuck that meant. But were they really? Where was the exit clause for these women? Fucking nowhere. There was no way out of their very illegal contracts, and Lindsay and every other whackjob running that house acted like somehow this was all okay.
“Fuck!” he shouted, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “Motherfucking FUCK! Lindsay you asshole!”
As if Lindsay could hear him having a mental breakdown on the highway. Now Damian was just as much a criminal as they were because there was no way in hell he was letting this girl go. He couldn't risk the house or that Brian would see her as a loose end. He turned to glance at Shannon, but his yelling hadn't woken her. She was well under the power of those drugs now.
And well under my power, a dark thing inside him whispered.
Shannon shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes shot open when she felt the ropes tied around her wrists, terrified that Brian had her again. But then she began to remember what had happened, and she started to cry again.
“We're almost home,” Damian said. He pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. He opened a bottle of water and held it up for her to drink. She was so thirsty. It was lukewarm but still wonderful. He put the lid back on the water and placed the bottle in the cup holder and pulled back out on the road.
Her current situation made it clear to her that she did not know Damian Brand. At all. It didn't matter that they'd had a weekend of incredible kinky sex. It didn't matter that she found him attractive or that she'd wanted him. He'd kidnapped her. And tied her up. And he didn't seem too upset about the fact that Lindsay had drugged her.
Her voice was small when she said, “Why am I tied up?”
“For my personal safety,” Damian said. “You didn't seem too keen on leaving the house.”
He kept his eyes on the road. He seemed eerily calm.
She remembered when Mina had come to the house and the arguments that had happened often in full view of others. Brian had said that there was something dark and dangerous about Lindsay. She couldn't deny that in the face of the night's events. Both men had drugged her in the space of a few hours. Lindsay could have killed her. He didn't know about the drugs Brian had put in her food. It hadn't exactly come up in conversation while she was begging him not to give her to Damian.
What if those drugs interacted? But she felt okay. Groggy as hell, but otherwise pretty normal. If they'd interacted surely she wouldn't have woken up. That would have been some irony... for sedatives to be the thing that killed her... accidentally. How fucked up was that?
“I-I can't believe he drugged me. I can't believe he just threw me away. I-I thought he loved me.”
“He does love you. He did it to keep you safe. You aren't safe at that house.”
Shannon's fingers drifted up to her bare throat and she let out a choked sob at the absence of her collar. It had felt so strong and solid against her skin. It had felt like his hand on her all the time, even when he wasn't with her. And now, there was an empty void where the metal should be.
Damian noticed the gesture. “We'll get you a new collar,” he said. As if this were about accessorizing.
When Damian got her a collar would he just as easily take it away? Like it was nothing? Like she was nothing? She'd just started to really trust Lindsay... to really love Lindsay. And now he was injecting her with drugs and throwing her away.
“You're not the hero,” she said. “You're keeping me against my will.”
Damian said nothing to that.
She stared out the window at the passing trees. She felt shell-shocked. Why did this always happen? Why did they always throw her away? Was she not good enough? Even before the scars, this was what happened. What was wrong with her that these men got rid of her at the first available opportunity?
She jumped when Damian's hand rested on her knee.
“I know this is hard for you. But in time you will see it's for the best.”
Being separated from Lindsay wasn't what was best for her. She should have been consulted. He should have asked what she wanted. But then, that wasn't their relationship. His ownership of her had never felt more absolute than in this moment when she belonged to somebody else.
In the very beginning when she was still free, meeting Lindsay at his office in the city for therapy... he'd told her he could find her a good master. Someone who had money, who could take care of her, who could give her all the things she needed. In a roundabout way hadn't he fulfilled his promise? It had taken eight years and a twisted route to get there, but wasn't this what she'd wanted?
It wasn't as though Damian Brand was the kind of man she'd kick out of bed. He ticked all the boxes. Money. Charm. Intelligence. Strong. Beautiful. Masculine. Dominant in all the right ways. If she could have picked a master out of a catalog she couldn't imagine a reality in which she wouldn't have chosen Damian and hoped like hell some other woman hadn't already snapped him up first.
But that was before Lindsay. Didn't what they shared mean anything to him? If he really wanted her, wouldn't he have found a way that they could still be together? If he didn't, what were the odds she'd fare any better with Damian? Damian could have any woman he wanted. He could have one of those young twenty-two-year-olds from the house if he wanted.
He could have a woman without the ugly scars that marred her. It didn't matter what he said about them... nobody could look at her back and not wish those marks weren't there.
Now she wasn't a pity fuck, she was a do-a-friend-a-favor fuck. And somehow that was worse.
Damian remained silent the rest of the way to his house. His modern glass mansion appeared on the horizon. A prison with a panoramic view. It wasn't as big
as the house, but it was massive for a place that would hold only the two of them.
“Will I ever see him again?” Surely she would. If he and Damian were such good friends. It would be nothing to just let her see him. Please, just let me see him.
She hadn't even gotten a proper goodbye.
Damian shook his head. “We both thought it would be better if you had a clean break.”
“Well, thanks for consulting me.” She didn't care about respect and titles and rules. She'd yet to call him master, something she was sure he'd noticed and equally sure he'd punish her for later.
He'd probably imagined this going down much differently. He would comfort her. She would fall into his arms. It would be some kinky fairy tale. But all she wanted was to be back in Lindsay's bed, in his plant room with that stupid dirty-talking parrot.
Damian came around to her side, opened the door, and helped her out, then walked her like a prisoner up to his front door.
“Are you going to untie me? Or are you going to treat me like a hostage now that you have me and can do whatever you want? Lindsay made it pretty clear he's not going to be checking on me.”
Damian didn't respond, he just input the security code. She immediately recognized the subtly distinct sounds each button made. It was the same security system the house had. 94353. 94353. 94353. 94353. She thought the number over and over again until it was imprinted on her brain. 94353. She wondered idly if it held some special meaning for him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as soon as he'd locked them in for the night.
“Yes.”
Damian's eyes narrowed. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.” She knew she was just digging the hole deeper, but she couldn't help it. That title was reserved for Lindsay. She wasn't ready to use it with anyone else. It felt like betraying him somehow. She was angry at herself for caring about that. Why should she care? He'd betrayed her. He'd thrown her away. Just like the last one.
Damian sighed. “I know you're hurting, but this disrespect won't be tolerated for long. I'm not willing to be a monster with you. Lindsay entrusted me with your safety and happiness. I'll give you time to adjust. You can continue to call me Sir for now. But understand it's only temporary.”