Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TAVISH

I stare up at a sleek white luxury yacht as the minions get us tied to it. I don't know how Samuel got his grubby hands on the ship, but this thing is designed to keep you out on the water for however long you want to be offshore.

With no options, I climb out of the boat onto the yacht, looking around at what I can see of the vessel. Other than Samuel, his minions, and me, I don't see anyone else on board. There has to be someone else on board.

I'm nudged in the back and I turn, glaring at the person behind me. Samuel glowers back at me. His dress shirt hangs open where he's doctored his chest. He's covered in blood, and so am I. For something that bled as much as it did, he looks like he's only been scratched. It's deep, but not deep enough to have made the mess it did.

"Get up the stairs, Tavish. Don't make me any angrier than I already am."

Leveling my gaze at him, I stand silently, waiting, and when his eyes dart away for a second, mine slide closed in silent victory. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I turn away from him before it blooms. No need to piss him off further. The staring contest is enough to fan the flames for the moment.

I climb the stairs from the back of the ship to the next deck. Samuel nudges me again, and I walk toward the glass sliding doors, but before I get to the doorway, he pushes me past the stairs and the glass doors that lead up to the next deck.

"We need to get changed," he says.

Nodding, I swallow and follow where he guides me. My eyes dance over the luxurious surroundings, as if they don't exist. My palms have broken out in a sweat and my stomach roils with anxiety and anticipation of what's to come.

Getting changed could mean several things. There've been a few times it meant I'm to be the pretty thing on his arm that draws attention either to him or from him so he can conduct business. Those were the best nights of my life before Draven came into it because it meant Samuel would be on his best behavior. They were even better than the nights when he left me alone, because those nights were always spent rattling apart with anticipation of when he would come for me and what he was planning while he was away from me.

This isn't going to be as tame as either of those options.

This was going to hurt. A lot. He's had months to plan what he would do when he got his hands on me again.

"How did you know I survived the explosion?" I ask.

He yanks me to a stop, and the glare he turns on me could melt metal. His teeth click, and his jaw pops as he grinds his teeth together. Grabbing my face in his hand, his fingers and thumb press on my jaw and cheeks, creating pressure points on the bones and rubbing the tender flesh inside my mouth against my teeth. It reopens the cuts he gave me earlier, and yet again, the taste of warm, wet copper hits my tongue, gagging me. The smell floods my sinuses, overpowering the smell of fish and salty sea air.

"I've had enough of your shit. If you aren't careful, I'll strip you naked, flay you to ribbons with my cat-o'-nine-tails, and then I'll tie you to the towline and toss your stupid ass overboard," he threatens.

My eyes lock onto his and I bite my tongue until I've bitten a hole in it, and even more blood fills my mouth. I don't care. I won't cower in front of him ever again.

"Answer me, boy."

I nod, my eyes locked on his. His right nostril flares, as it always does when he's angry and trying to rein it in.

"Good."

He squeezes my face even more, pulling me closer to him, our noses close to touching.

"You are to be seen, and not heard, from this point forward. You will not speak. You will not make a sound. No matter what happens, you will be utterly silent."

Bile rises in my throat, and I would kill to cover his vile face with it, but I nod. He gives me another squeeze and shoves me away from him. My head bounces off the wall of the boat, smacking into something sharp. My hand flies up to my head, covering the spot. As cold as it is, my hand is warm. I pull it away and it's smeared with blood. If I didn't have to puke already, I did now.

Samuel grabs me and pushes me in front of him. He leads me through some doors and down some stairs, and I'm sure the number of times I've hit something or bounced off the wall has to be a world record. A drunk person could walk straighter than he was leading me.

He opens a cabin door at the end of the hall he's led me down, pushing me inside. I trip over my feet and fall face first onto the bed. As I raise myself up, my mouth falls open. A woman lies on the bed, naked. Her…bits and bobs are way too close to this gay man's face.

"Hello," she says.