Page 29 of Edge of Heaven (Crimson Edge #2)

Taryn

I wake to a hand on my breast, rubbing, kneading, hard enough to make me squirm.

“Stop,” I mutter.

“Come on, baby.” Callum’s voice is rough with sleep, but his intentions are clear.

Dread fills me.

He’s been insatiable the last few days, and I’m exhausted.

Both mentally and physically. I just want to get the hell out, but between the payment for my phone, my credit card payment, and the health insurance premium my agent insisted upon, my account is at least a thousand dollars lighter than I’d hoped.

Even with the money I know is coming in, I can only truly pay for one month of Toby’s treatment, which means I’m stuck here for at least that long.

I roll away from his touch. “I have to pee.”

Sometimes this is a good tactic because he’ll fall asleep while I’m gone.

I slide out of bed and hurry into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I lean against it and pull in a few shaky breaths.

I don’t know if I can do this another month.

He’s so hard to deal with. If he was even a little bit nicer, I wouldn’t have a problem with it.

Before I started hating him, the sex was decent.

Not the best but not horrible. He’s hung like a horse, so it didn’t take much to get me off.

Intellectually, I know I’m doing this for Toby, but I feel like a failure. Like the only way I can take care of my child is by prostituting myself. I’m not good enough of a model, or a mother, to get the money any other way.

And I’ve never been so ashamed.

“Hurry up!” Callum yells. “I’m hard.”

Tears fill my eyes and I quickly use the bathroom, wash my hands and face, and stare into the mirror. I look like hell, with dark circles under my eyes, bruises on my chest from the way he manhandles me, and I’ve never been quite this pale.

But Toby needs me, and since it appears there’s no stopping this, I pad back into the bedroom.

Callum is lying on top of the covers, naked, proudly stroking his erection.

I grudgingly get on the bed and have just reached him when his phone rings. He reaches for it, frowns, and then answers.

“It’s fucking ten in the morning—what?! That’s your job. Figure it out—wait, what do you mean it’s gone? How can it just be gone?” He listens again, his face getting red. Then he sits up and grabs his jeans from the floor next to the bed. “I’m coming down. Don’t fucking leave without me.”

“What happened?” I ask politely.

“They lost my fucking guitar,” he snaps. Then he turns and points to me. “You stay right fucking there, in that bed, naked. I’ll be right back.” He grabs his room key and wallet, shoves his feet into his boots without even lacing them up, and stomps out.

I throw myself down with a mixture of relief and dread.

I got a short reprieve but now, instead of getting it over with, I have to lie here and wait.

I’d shower but I’m tired.

A nap might be the best thing since I’m so exhausted.

I also need to call Toby, but I’m so tired.

I must have drifted off because when I open my eyes again it’s after noon—and I’m still alone.

I get in the shower and take the time to shave my legs since Callum is often rushing me to get ready.

Today’s a day off so I’m not going to wash my hair—I’ll just put it up in a ponytail—or worry about any of my conditioning masks.

That annoys Callum too, the plethora of toiletries I use to look the way I do.

He says he understands but then uses it against me any time we fight.

Of course, he uses everything against me when we fight, and we fight a lot.

The door slams just as I’m putting moisturizer on my face and I quickly drop my towel—since he likes me naked—before padding into the main room.

“Did you find it?” I ask.

“Where did I tell you to wait for me?”

“I took a shower for you,” I say in what I hope is a sexy voice.

“Why can’t you ever do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it?” he growls, his face darkening.

Ugh.

He’s mad.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I thought freshening up would be nice.”

“When I tell you to wait for me in bed, I don’t expect you to do anything but that.” He strides over to me, grabbing me by the arms.

“Ow!” I yelp. “Stop it.”

“I’ll stop when I feel like stopping.”

Now that he’s up close, I can tell he’s high.

That’s probably why he was gone so long.

Which is a problem in more ways than one. Not only is he ugly when he’s high, if he’s on coke, he can have sex without getting off for hours. And he’s not a fan of lube so I’m in for a pounding.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He shoves me, sending me sprawling onto the bed. “You know how much you’ve cost me in the last nine months?”

I don’t respond because there’s no point.

“All you do is complain about how mean I am, but I know what you’re doing. I know you plan to leave the second I make that last payment. And I know you’ve been fucking Mick Lips.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t! Yes, we saw each other in New York and hung out between takes during the shoot, but I’m not sleeping with him!”

Not exactly.

I am in love with him, though.

Not that I’ll say any of that out loud.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He advances on me angrily, fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m not.” My voice breaks a little and I flinch as he yanks off his belt.

“I told you not to lie to me!” He wraps part of the belt around his fist and then swings the loose part, smacking my thighs.

“Callum, knock it off!” I scramble off the bed.

“I fucking told you to get on the bed.”

“Not if you’re going to hurt me like that.”

“Like this?” He holds up the belt. “You have a lot more to worry about than my belt. Get over here.”

I shake my head, suddenly terrified. He’s always scary when he’s high, but there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before today, and my gut tells me this is going to be bad.

“You’re nothing but a greedy little slut,” he says, walking toward me menacingly. “You want the money but you don’t want to be a real partner.”

“What more do you want?” I cry. “We have sex every single day, usually multiple times. I’m with you twenty-four-seven unless I’m traveling, but you’re not going to make me feel bad about wanting to see my son or work so I can bring some money in.”

“The only reason you want to work is so that you can leave. I’m not fucking stupid!” he yells.

“I wouldn’t leave if you’d stop attacking me all the time!” I whisper, tears spoiling down my cheeks. “If you didn’t hit me with a belt. If you didn’t leave bruises on my ass.”

“Oh, boo fucking hoo!” He rolls his eyes. “If you cared about my needs, you’d be all in for that stuff. When we first started dating you used to give as good as you got—and then you got all mousey and timid. Or is it that you started screwing Mick so now you don’t like it when I fuck you?”

“You don’t even wait for me to come anymore!” I say in frustration. I wouldn’t stay with him regardless, but he doesn’t get to put this on me. I was ready to leave before this started.

“You think you deserve orgasms?” He throws back his head and laughs. Then he slaps me so hard I stumble back, losing my footing and landing hard on one ankle.

“Callum!” I cover my face as he kicks me, hard, in the ribs.

“Get up!” he yells.

I try but my ankle buckles and I wind up on the floor again.

“Stupid whore.” He grabs me by the ponytail, pulling me across the floor toward the bed.

A sharp pain in my chest tells me he probably just broke one—or more—of my ribs.

“Callum, please.” I try to grab my head, but he yanks me even harder and lifts me onto the bed.

“Remember when I said you’d pay dearly for the last three payments? That starts now.” He slaps me across the face again. “Because you’re never going to forget the man who helped your kid get better.” He crawls on top of me and puts his knee in the middle of my chest.

Pain explodes out of me but all I can manage is a whimper because I can barely breathe with his weight on me.

“Or who supported your skanky ass when you had nowhere to go.” He slaps me twice more, once on each side.

I want to cry, plead, beg him to stop, but as horrible as this is, I realize he’s going to regret it when he comes down from his high. That’s his M.O. whenever he gets physical with me.

And this will give me leverage.

He’s already out on bail so getting arrested again could land him back in jail until a trial.

So I just have to survive whatever he’s going to do and then wait for him to sober up.

“Are you listening to me?” He grabs me by the throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off my airway.

“Stop…” I rasp.

“Cunt.” He lets go of my neck and backhands me.

I taste blood this time and close my eyes as he smacks me a few more times.

“You think you’re just going to walk away from Callum Yates? Think again. You’re not going anywhere.”

He slides off the bed and grabs my phone off the table, putting it in his pocket. Then he digs my wallet out of my purse, puts that in his pocket as well, and walks out of the room without looking back.

I don’t know whether I’m relieved it’s over and I’m still alive or terrified about what to do next. It hurts every time I take a breath, which means I have to get help.

I don’t know what time Mick is supposed to get back, but I’ll try his room first. If he’s not there, I’ll go down to the front desk. That way, I’ll have witnesses.

Then, if Callum won’t pay the final two payments, I’ll threaten to go to the cops.

This isn’t how I envisioned getting out from under Callum’s thumb, but I feel like there’s finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

And I’m heading full-speed in that direction.