Page 39 of Beautiful Trauma (The Irish Rogues #5)

S earing pain slammed into me as I came back into consciousness. With a groan, I jerked my eyes open. I stared down onto a concrete floor. My bare feet stood on a large, metal grate.

Slowly, I pulled my head up to see that my arms were suspended above my head in chains. I’d been stripped of everything but my briefs. And stinging pain radiated from my back.

“He’s awake,” someone said.

I craned my neck to try to identify the voice. Somewhere behind me came a distinctive clinking. It took me a moment to realize it was the sound of a cane.

To my surprise, Dima Korolova came into my view. His face was contorted with pain as he leaned heavily on a cane. He dragged his right leg with each step.

It was his pride that had him enduring so much agony just so he wouldn’t appear weak in a wheelchair.

“I’m glad to see you on your feet,” I said.

His response was to punch me in the jaw. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for you brainwashing my sister.”

“I love her,” I pronounced. Even though I hadn't said it to Mila yet, I knew it was the truth.

Dima nodded to someone behind him. The next thing I knew a pipe struck my lower back at my kidney.

An agonized yell broke from my lips as I bowed forward on the chains.

I tried to catch my breath as the pain ricocheted through me.

It was so intense that I retched and emptied my stomach at Dima’s feet.

When I finally recovered, Dima glared at me. “What do you get out of feigning love for her?”

“I do love her.”

As Dima nodded again, I braced myself for the impact. This time it hit on the opposite side. My face contorted in agony as my arms jerked in the chains.

“Why are you doing this to her?” he growled.

“Because…I love…her.”

He shook his head manically. “You don’t know her.”

“I know her…better than…you think.”

He lunged forward to wrap his free hand around my neck. “You’ve fucked her, so you know her body.”

“I know her heart,” I gritted out.

“You’ve turned her against her family.”

I fought to suck oxygen in my lungs before I spoke again. “I don’t want that for her, I swear.”

“Your hold on her is why I’m a fucking cripple now!” he blared.

Growing lightheaded, I replied, “I’m sorry. I would do anything to be able to take it back.”

“You lie.”

With my head lolling back, I said, “I swear on my life.”

The next thing I knew, a whip cracked between my shoulders. I hissed in a breath, but no air came in. Just as I was about to slip under, Dima removed his hand from my throat.

As I tried gulping in air, the whip cracked over and over. My body convulsed with each hit as my skin flayed open. A metallic smell entered my nose as blood began to drip from my back and hit the floor and walls with each flick of the whip.

Pinching my eyes shut, I focused on Mila’s face as she appeared before me in my mind. Her smile. The silky strands of her hair. The floral smell of her perfume. The taste of her arousal on my tongue. The tight clench of her walls around my cock.

As I floundered in hell, I tried surrounding myself with heaven through memories of her. My knees gave way, and I bowed forward. Agony shot through me causing me to groan.

To my surprise, the whipping stopped. Air wheezed in and out of me as Dima limped over to me. With a glare, he demanded, “If you love Mila so much, would you die for her?”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The pain ricocheting through my body made it hard to speak. Unable to form words, my jaw worked in phantom movements for a few moments. Finally, the words croaked from my throat.

“Yes. I would give my life for her.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through Dima. “Then I’m happy to grant your wish. But first, you’ll continue to pay for your sins.”