Chapter 9

NINE

brOOKE

I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting in the dim dungeon room with my eyes closed. The lights are motion activated, so when I still, they go dark. I wave my hand every time to make the lights come back on. God, I hate the dark.

I spent the first hour looking at every terrifying whip and implement hanging from the wall up close in detail but then decided it might be best to close my eyes and meditate.

They taught us how to do it at the women’s shelter and said it could help when things felt too chaotic or scary. Picture a little dock leading out to a still lake on a perfectly tranquil morning. It only marginally helps calm my racing heart. I’m drawn to water. The little picture of a small babbling river over rocks was how I chose my new name— Brooke . Thinking of water starts to calm me down.

But then I shift and the chain attached to my freaking collar rattles, reminding me that I’m not at some peaceful lakeside.

I’m here, chained like a dog in a sex dungeon.

My eyes spring open when I hear the ping of the elevator.

Oh shit, he’s back.

“Evenin’, sweetheart,” he calls in that thick Irish drawl of his. It sends a shiver down my back. I’m only slightly disturbed at myself that I can’t tell if it’s a shiver of anticipation or fear. Maybe something in between.

I’ve been waiting for him to return and at the same time been anxious about it. I screamed until my throat was raw. Whoever was at the door either didn’t hear me or was just as twisted as Sir and didn’t care.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He smiles at me in an eerie way as he runs a hand over my hair. “I’m going to treat you as I would any beloved pet. I’ll feed and water you and take you for walks. And I’ll train you.”

“Train me?” I yank away from his touch on my head. He mentioned that before he left, and it doesn’t sound any less ominous now.

His smile grows wider. “Oh yes, pet. We’ll have some lovely training sessions. At our essence, we’re all really just animals. Your father taught me that. So now you get to be the good doggy, get on all fours, and I’ll take you on a walk.”

My father? It’s not the first time he’s mentioned my father. Does he really know me? “If you actually know me, tell me something else. What’s my father like?”

He leans in, smile gone. I haven’t felt really scared in the way I feel like I should, until right in this moment.

There’s an unhinged look in his eyes as he gets right in my face. “Your father loved inflicting pain more than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of sadistic motherfuckers. He made an art of pain. It was his one true love.”

I inhale in shock, pulling back from him.

“Now get on the floor, dog.”

My limbs are already moving before I’ve consciously decided to do what he’s asking. Is it because I’m afraid of him? Of what he’ll do if I don’t obey?

Or because what I’m really afraid of is that he’s telling the truth?

All I’ve wanted since I woke up is to know who I am.

What if this awful dungeon is where I can find the answers I’m searching for? I knew they might not be pretty. I knew there was a reason I’m afraid of the dark. Is it because my father is the man he’s describing? What the fuck was my life?

“Good girl,” he breathes out, laying a hand gently but with light pressure on my head. Petting me. This time I don’t yank away .

The carpet is soft underneath my hands and knees, but I’m shaking. I might have been through a lot in the past two months, but so far, I’ve mostly clung to my dignity.

“I own you now, pet. And now I’m going to take you for a walk.”

He removes my collar from the ceiling chain and attaches it to a leash. I breathe out hard. So much for the dignity.

“That’s a good dog,” he praises with such warmth in his voice as he pets my hair, it creates conflicting feelings in my chest. Of course it’s condescending and degrading to be called a dog. But also… um… uh… there’s also this stupid warmth that floods my chest at his words. I’m so confused by it, I don’t know what to do except crawl forwards when he urges me to.

“That’s my good pet,” he continues to praise. “What a good, good girl. Such a good girl.”

The praise floods me with bizarre endorphins. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I’m instantly furious at myself.

Is this just a normal captive’s reaction to the situation? Knowing I’m safest when I just go along with what he asks of me?

Which still feels wrong in all kinds of ways. I should be fighting or scheming for ways to figure out the keypad code. Yeah, I figured that one out when I watched him more closely as he went back up the elevator last time. No key. Key pad . If I follow his lead, can I get close enough to watch him when he pushes the numbers ?

“That’s right, good girl,” he praises. “Here we are. Go potty and you’ll get a treat.”

My mouth drops open. Potty? Is he fucking serious?

I look up to where he’s brought me.

It’s not a toilet, at least not in the traditional way. But immediately I recognize it as the kind of toilet they sometimes have in Eastern Europe—just a porcelain hole in the floor. Meant for squatting. It’s another clue, at least. I must’ve traveled in Europe to know that.

But he’s still got me on a fucking leash and he’s taking me on a walk to go fucking potty .

At the same time, because I know how to use the hole from some memory I can’t directly access, I squat appropriately and lift my flimsy nightie. My underwear are still gone from wherever Domhnall tossed them earlier in the dungeon bedroom. I can’t say it’s inhumane because people all across the world use toilets like this, and the porcelain appears immaculately clean.

The part where Domhnall stands there and watches, however…

“Could you please turn your back?” I ask hotly, feeling my cheeks go red.

Domhnall just lifts one eyebrow, but he does do a half-turn so he’s faced away.

I relieve my bladder with a rush of relief. And there’s toilet paper attached to the wall, thank god.

After I’m finished, Domhnall squats down and rubs sanitizer on my hands with his. It feels oddly intimate, but then, what about this strange situation doesn’t? It’s wrong that the mixed-up feelings from earlier tonight are getting all scrambled with now trying to see the gorgeous man in front of me as dangerous. My body’s still attracted to him even when I know I should be trying to scratch his eyes out every chance I get. Not that it would help me get the elevator code.

Do I feel this sense of connection between us because he’s right and I do actually know him? Or once, did I?

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers. “Now for your treat. Come, pet.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“How remiss of me not to show you your watering bowl. I thought you might’ve found it on your own by now. It’s underneath the foot of your bed.”

A watering bowl. Of course. I roll my eyes. I swear, if this man considers his dick a doggy treat, I don’t care what answers he might have about my identity—I’ll remind him just how sharp my incisors can be.

He leads me back into the dungeon room and reattaches my collar to the ceiling chain, then points out the watering bowl. Shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it, I reach out with my hands to scoop up some water and bring it to my lips.

But before I can drink any of the water, Domhnall jerks at my collar. Not hard, but enough to startle me so I spill all the water down the front of my chest.

“Hey!” I spin to look at him over my shoulder .

“Not like that.” His eyes are dark. “You know how you’re supposed to drink it, pet.”

Good god. So fucking ridiculous. But I’m thirsty and the water looks clean. So I lean down and drop my chin into the water, gulping down some water like a fucking pet.

“That’s a very good girl,” Domhnall all but purrs low in his throat. “Are you ready for your treat?”

Oh I fucking bet. “It depends,” I say, again looking up at him over my shoulder, chin dripping. “What do you consider a treat?”

“Your pleasure, my pet. Up on the bed on all fours and I’ll bring you pleasure beyond your body’s comprehension. You know I can.” He lifts a dark eyebrow, but it’s not a smirk. It’s a promise.

Something deep and low in my belly clenches, knowing how well he can deliver on that promise.

But that was different. I didn’t know he was a— a— a woman-kidnapping madman back then. Fuck him, why does he have to be so attractive? And so good at what he did to me earlier?

“Red,” I spit out, knowing it won’t make a difference to him.

But to my shock, he nods, face blank as he steps back. “Safe words are still safe here, except I won’t let you go. And you will be trained. But I won’t touch your body without consent.”

He bends over and presses a whispering kiss right in the air at the top of my head. “Sleep well, little pet. And know that I’m only the monster you and your father made me.”

With that, he walks out of the room.

I stare after him in shock as he covers the keypad with his body before taking the elevator back up.

I’m left terribly, desolately alone. And so fucking confused.