Chapter 13

Marissa

I feel like I’m walking in a dream or a nightmare or something. I’m not sure which it is, but there’s an element of the surreal about this I can’t shake. It terrifies me. The only comfort I’ve known in my captivity has been the anonymity of obedience. If I make a move out of place, I draw attention to myself, and I learned quickly that moving a toe out of line would bring about disastrous results.

I didn’t mean to defy my master. I meant to do exactly what he told me, but when he instructs me, halting sentience stops me. I’m trying to understand, but the harder I grasp the further awareness moves out of reach.

The others leave the room, and now we’re alone. I look to the floor, unable to look in my master’s eyes. He will punish me for not obeying.

And somehow, deep inside me, a very small part of me wants him to. Why do I want him to?

I shiver, confused by the fear and anticipation that wrack my body.

“Come here.” He sits on the edge of the bed and begins to loosen his tie. I walk toward him, eager to obey. To earn his praise. I want to tell him I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m not allowed to speak unless he gives me permission.

When I reach him he points to the floor by his feet.

“Kneel.”

I drop to my knees, eager to please him.

“Yes, master,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, master.” It feels good and right on my knees before him, like I’m supposed to be here, to show my sincere repentance. But he’s angry, so angry. The heat vibrates from him in waves that make me cower.

I flinch when his hand comes under my jaw and draws my eyes to his.

“Look at me.”

Why does he keep making me look at him? They rarely demand eye contact , but this one is bent on keeping my eyes on his.

“Sir?” I whisper. And this time, kneeling before him, when I look in his eyes, something shifts in me, like sun breaking through clouds. For one brief moment in time, I see everything, my thoughts on the very edge of remembrance. But then the clouds shift, and darkness covers awareness again.

“When I give you an instruction, you will obey,” he says. His voice is calm, but stern, and my body begins to respond with instinctive arousal. I’m not sure why, but I can’t control it.

“Yes, sir.” Will he punish me?

I need him to punish me.

I’m so confused, I feel as if I could laugh and cry, or sit and hide, all at once. Shouldn’t I be avoiding punishment? Why, then, do I need this from him? He removes his tie, his eyes never leaving mine, then lays it on the bed folded. Next, his suit coat. That joins the tie on the bed. He’s rolling up his sleeves, still watching me. I risk a glance at his corded forearms, thick with tattoos on either side. Are they familiar to me? I’m not sure. And I’m not sure why I expected they would be.

He loosens his collar before he crosses his arms on his chest.

“Stand.”

I stumble awkwardly to my feet. To my shock, he takes hold of my waist, his hands spanning my small frame, and bends me over his lap. I flail at first, taken aback at this weirdly awkward position. I’m falling, my head tipped down toward the floor, so unaccustomed to this.

His hand slams against my ass. “Stop that,” he orders. “Lie still.”

I immediately freeze when recognition dawns on me.

I’m over his lap so he can punish me here? But this is intimate and almost comforting, his warmth beneath me while he holds me down. Again, the clouds part and awareness threatens to surface, but as soon as I try to grasp hold of it, he spanks me again.

“You are mine now to do with as I will,” he says, holding me over his lap firmly. His voice tightens. “And you will fucking do what I tell you.”

I’m bared to him. Cool air sweeps across my skin. I submit to this. I welcome this. When he touches me, it isn’t the vicious pain I’ve undergone in captivity, but possessive and impassioned. Somehow intimate. Reminiscent of something we’ve shared somehow, awareness fading in and out like waves lapping on a shore.

Authority… protection… And hell, my body’s on fire. Punishment at his hands is deeply, undeniably erotic.

I need this.

With fluid grace, he captures my flailing wrists and with one swift movement, pins them to my lower back. I close my eyes, bracing for the punishment he will give me. Punishment hurts, and even though my body somehow longs for just this, my mind warns me to brace.

Holding me over his lap, my belly pressed against to his firm thighs, I can feel his strength beneath me for one split second before he whacks his hand against me again. And again. And again.

It hurts, but instantly arousal sweeps through me. Punishment and pain. Bliss and pleasure. My body’s been trained to crave this, and as pain builds, one stroke after another landing, pressure builds between my thighs. But I’m warring within myself to accept my punishment and grasp the edge of awareness. Something is just beyond my reach. Right there. Something that will make all of this clear to me.

I feel him hard beneath me, but it doesn’t surprise or shock me. He’s aroused from punishing me. This is what masters do. They crave inflicting pain, and will demand pleasure next. The slaps ring through the room, his voice harsh and corrective. Anyone on either side of us will hear my punishment.

“I will not tolerate disobedience from you. You will learn your place as my slave, or the next punishment will be worse than this.”

Too soon, he stops, his hand resting on my heated skin.

I want more. Longer. Harder. This isn’t the deep cavern of pain that ultimately comforts.

“You will do what I say, slave,” he says, so loudly this time that it startles me.

“Yes, sir!” I say back, my words carrying through the small room. And that pleases him.

“Good girl,” he says lower now, approvingly. “That’s exactly what I want to hear from you.”

Something strange begins to happen. My throat is tight, my nose tingles, and my eyes burn. I’m losing control and I don’t know why or how, but as he runs his hand along my naked skin, murmuring soft words of approval, his voice catches.

“I…” I know him. He isn’t a monster. He hasn’t bought me to abuse me.

I’m filled with an unquenchable thirst to please him, to be the good girl he approves of.

But this isn’t part of the script. This isn’t how it should go.

I want to kneel at his feet and worship him. Grovel in my nakedness until I earn a crumb of approval. Debase myself until only he remains.

Why?

“Will you obey me?” he rasps out, but his harsh tone belies his tender touch. He’s holding himself back.

From what?

“Yes, sir. I will do whatever you tell me, sir. Thank you for punishing me.” The words tumble from my mouth like water over a cliff, uncontrolled and powerful. Once more clouds part, and this time, I see a face.

Nicolai.

I knew Nicolai once. Does this man know him?

My master stills, his voice at once harsh and commanding. He drops his body close to mine, his mouth at my ear vibrating with anger. “Do not ever say that name out loud again.”

Did I say the name out loud?

“Yes, sir.”

And then I’m up in his arms and he’s pulling to me, and this is so familiar tears fill my eyes. The rollercoaster I’m on is plummeting downward again, and my heart can’t keep up with this. He tucks me close to him. I burrow right in, and when my cheek hits his chest, the clouds part once more, but this time, the light prevails.

“Marissa,” he whispers. “I am your master, and everyone we see must know that.”

But he isn’t my master. He lies.

He is my Nicolai, and he’s come to save me.

He’s cloaked me in lies to protect me.

I’m so overcome with emotion, I can’t speak or think. I can only cry and now that I do, I know that the weird mix of emotions I felt were the prelude to just this. Tears I haven’t shed that I needed to.

“Yes, master,” I whisper, giving him what he needs. But he flinches.

“I’ll have to accept that,” he says. His voice hardens. “I’ll have to demand that.”

I keep my voice so low, no one could possibly hear us.

“Are you…” my voice trails off.

“Yes.”

“You don’t…” I falter. “I hate that I didn’t know you.” My voice cracks as fresh tears fall, fresh from an unfathomable depth.

He brings his mouth so close to my ear, his heated breath vibrates over the shell of my ear. “It isn’t your fault,” he says. “You’ve been traumatized. It impacts memory, recall…” his voice trails off.

I cry harder against his chest.

You’ve been traumatized.

I’ve been brought to the very cusp of what human beings can endure. Broken and beaten, conditioned and debased. The weight of it all is so heavy, I fear I’ll shatter beneath it.

“I don’t like that I forgot. That I didn’t know,” I whisper brokenly, so low I wonder at first if he hears me, but his next words reassure me.

“I’ll help you remember.”

And then his fingers are tangled in my hair, my hand is on his face, and his mouth is on mine. I sigh into the salty, messy kiss, swallowing a deep moan that resonates low in his chest.

It’s Nicolai.

And I’m his.

Worlds collide in that kiss, separation no longer possible. We fuse together, welded by pain and longing, this moment of blissful union untainted by the horror that brought us to this place. What happened then and what happens next no longer matters. All that does is this very moment where nothing can break us apart.

He kisses me and I kiss him back, losing myself to him and finding myself in the process.

Who was I?

Nicolai’s.

I’m crying and I swear he is nearly breaking down himself, though he doesn’t cry, the groans he releases are fragmented, hoarse. Being apart has nearly killed me, and though I hate that he’s been in pain, the certain knowledge that he’s longed for this like I have assures me that somehow, some way, everything will be okay.

I’ll help you remember.

Slowly, so slowly it’s like the painstaking blossoming of a flower, he unfolds the petals of my heart.

I am not a slave.

I pull away from our kiss too soon, the knowledge of who I was just right there on the cusp of awareness. My lips part, but he presses a finger firmly against them.

“You are my slave,” he whispers.

I nod my head.

“This is the first time we’ve met,” he says, his voice choked with emotion.

Again, I nod.

His voice deepens, hoarse and husky. “You will obey me.” He speaks with conviction.

I nod again. I will obey him.

And even though I know who I am, even though I know there was a time and place when I wasn’t subservient to another, my body responds on instinct.

I long to obey him.

Is it the old me who craves his dominance, or the one broken in training?

And does it matter?

I know that this isn’t the time to reveal truths but to do whatever it takes so we’re free again. Safe. Though we’re alone in this room, we’re in the heart of deception and lies, mired in a place where danger lurks in every corner. The oppressive weight of the lies I’ve swallowed constricts my lungs. Wickedness and death surround us.

Where are we going? How will we survive this?

“Show me,” he whispers. “Show me that you…” he pauses. “Show me that you know who you are.”

Holding his gaze, I slide off his lap and kneel before him. I take one of his hands, marked with ink, words I don’t recognize and symbols that represent his new identity, and bring his fingers to my lips.

“I am your slave,” I whisper, tugging his hand to my heart. My voice trembles. “And my name is Marissa.”

I watch his gaze soften, as he drags one thumb along my cheek until he reaches my chin. Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling around the edges, and the sight makes my heart sing. I made him smile. Nicolai, my master—the two roles are welded together, and my mind can’t separate the two—is pleased with me.

“They call me Aleks,” he says, his voice imbued with meaning. I must never refer to him by his real name. “But you will call me Master. And you shall be called Slave.” Now that my memory is resurfacing, I have so many questions.

Where are we?

Where are we going?

How did he escape?

How did he find me?

And other more pressing questions I fear to know the answers to.

Who did this to me?

How will we ever survive what comes next?

What hope is there for us?

Just hearing him speak in his accent plucks the strings of my heart like a master strumming a long-lost instrument. The strings are taut and frail, but they remember how to sing.

Leaning down, he brings his mouth to my ear once more, a reminder that our secret must remain hidden. “You must not forget that I am your master.”

I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin.

For the first time, I become aware of the sounds in the rooms that flank either side. The slap of skin on skin, moans and creaking beds. My eyes go wide as I look to Nicolai.

“We’ve been given… a reward,” he says with chagrin. It isn’t a reward, but a command. He doesn’t need to tell me this.

I nod. I heard the instruction myself.

Take their virginity before you return.

Leaning down, he takes my face in both hands, holding my gaze. “They didn’t take your virginity,” he says. “Tell me they didn’t.”

I can honestly tell him they did not. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s why I’ve been held for so long.” This much I’ve surmised from what the other girls have told me. The others were taken and sold at a lower price, so they moved quickly through the market, but the virgins were trained for longer, preserved as it were.

“What else did they do to you?” he says in a deathly whisper that makes the hairs at the back of my neck prickle in fear.

I swallow hard. My voice trembles when I answer. I have to give him the truth he doesn’t want to hear. “Everything else.”

His hands on my face shake. He’s so overcome with rage, his nostrils flare and his cheeks color, his lips press into a thin line. I shiver with fear.

“I will find them,” he says. “And they will pay the ultimate price for touching you.”

He’s the fierce protector who’s guarded me since I was a child. I close my eyes, my fingers gripping his still holding my face.

“I know you will,” I whisper. I’ve been through hell, and I still haven’t clawed my way out of the fiery depths. But the knowledge that he’s come for me, that he’s found me, speaks more than he will ever say aloud. How much I mean to him. How precious I am to this fierce, possessive man. How much he loves me.

I open my eyes. “When do we return?” I ask. “When will we arrive in the new location?”

“Very soon,” he says. “We have one more night.” Leaning down, he kisses my forehead so fiercely I gasp. “I will not take you tonight.” His voice breaks in a vehement whisper. “Not tonight,” he repeats.

He releases me. I drop my head to his knee, my cheek lying on silky fabric. Nicolai found me. And together, we are going to escape the danger we’re both in. Running a hand along my hair, he gently brushes it from my forehead.

A noise sounds on the other side of the door.

“In bed,” he says so loudly, I start. I open my eyes and look up at him. He’s pointing to the bed. When I don’t move to obey right away, he bends down and slaps my ass. “I said, bed, slave.”

Oh, God. I have to pull myself out of the revelation and back into the present. I didn’t realize what he was doing at first, but now I see he speaks loudly so the others hear, so they don’t lose respect for him for not forcing me to obey. I get to my feet. He’s pulled the covers down and pointed to where he wants me to sleep.

I climb into the bed, and I don’t want to take my eyes off of him. I lie on my back and watch as he walks about the room. It’s the first time I’ve really looked in here. It’s a large room for a cruise ship, with a massive bed, a sitting area, and a bathroom to the right, but I don’t really care about the details. It’s luxurious, draped in golds and ivory, but I don’t care. I don’t want to look away from him.

My memory still falters a bit, and it sets my heartbeat to pounding harder, faster. I am trying… I can’t remember… I don’t remember anything about the night we were taken from each other. I remembered him in my captivity, I know I did. The memory of him was the one beacon shining in the darkness of my tortured existence. I held onto that. Whatever else they did to affect my mind did not erase him completely.

He stands before me, as tall as he was before, of course, but thinner. Leaner. Muscled and strong. He has tattoos, but they’re different from what they were before. I want to ask him how he did that, but I have to pretend he is my master. Speaking out loud is dangerous. I know this much.

But I can whisper. So I do.

“I love you,” I say so low, he doesn’t hear me at first.

“What was that?” he asks curtly. “Did you say something?”

I almost don’t want to repeat myself. I know he’s putting on this persona so we don’t arouse suspicion, but it’s hard to reconcile the stern master before me and the man who gave up everything to save me, though even that man was stern and serious.

He raises a brow. “I asked you a question,” he says. “What did you say?”

I freeze. Then something prompts me to point to myself.

I.

Then my heart.

Love.

Then to him.

You.

His gaze softens and his eyes gentle. One corner of his stern mouth quirks at the corner, and he nods. Accepting my silent admonition of love. Then he points to himself. His heart. And back to me.

I love you.

One day we will be able to say it aloud to one another. But for now, this is all I need.

After he’s stripped to just boxers, he joins me in bed and shuts out the light. I close my eyes, overcome with emotion at feeling him behind me. I am on my side and Nicolai is behind me. Holding me. He tucks one strong arm over my belly and holds my hand. I stifle the tears that will fall. I don’t want to be a blubbering mess tonight. I just want to be his.

I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve experienced since my captivity.

I wake with a start. It’s hours later, pitch black outside the little sliver of glass of our window. I blink. Someone was screaming. Why is someone screaming?

Then I realize it’s someone right outside our door. I sit up in bed, startled. But I can’t move. I’m not allowed to help someone who’s screaming, and if they find me—

I blink. Where am I? Why am I not allowed to help them?

“Back to sleep,” Nicolai orders. “You can’t help her. Go back to sleep.”

I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. I toss and turn, unable to drown out the tortured sounds.

“Someone is hurting her,” I whisper to him.

He sighs. “Many people are hurting many people.” But he doesn’t tell me to hush or to go to sleep again. Instead, he rolls over onto his back. “Lie your head on my chest.”

I roll over and do what he tells me, resting my head on his bare chest. His arms encircle me and he holds me like this. I listen to the steady beating of his heart, and try to will myself to get back to sleep.

Nicolai has me, but will we be able to escape from here? Has he just joined me in my prison? Or does freedom await us somehow?