Page 2 of Einar (The Brigands of Ruk #2)

Chapter Two

ROWAN

Wednesday dawns and I can barely move. In fact, any movement, no matter how small, sends shards of pain all over my entire body.

I raise my head and look around. I’m still in the playroom, but Robert didn’t leave me tied to the St . Andrews cross this time. After I passed out from the pain, he must have unbuckled the restraints and let me fall to the ground. It’s obvious he left me where I landed, since I’m lying in a small pool of my own blood. Breathing is difficult, but that has become the norm, as I felt more than one rib crack while he was hitting me in the torso.

At least…

He didn’t leave me trapped on the platform. It’s hard to recall how many times he’s forced me to come-to while still strapped to that torture device.

Slowly , I ease into a sitting position, panting through the pain in short, sharp little breaths, since I literally can’t take a deep one. Fear slices into me because I know Robert won’t take me to the hospital because of my ribs.

Pausing , I force myself to calm down and assess the state of my body. Freaking out won’t fix anything and will only waste my time. If there’s anything I learned from my mother, it was that breaking down never solved anything. With the life I lead, if I had a weak mind, I would’ve been dead a long time ago.

Methodically , I run my fingertips along the sections of my ribs that sustained the most damage while forcing myself to take small, even breaths. I’ve had cracked ribs before, so I know what that feels like, from the inside and out. I feel an inkling amount of relief when my inhales don’t result in a dry, hacking cough, my heart racing, or cause me to be overly short of breath. My lungs have become weakened from years of asthma attacks, as well as these regular beatings from my husband.

Due to my asthma, I must be exceptionally careful. My lack of an immune system means that I’m at a higher risk of infection.

Bracing myself, I force myself to stand, muffling the groans that result from my body protesting any movement. I desperately need a hot shower. The congealed blood on my face is grotesque and the heat will alleviate some of the tightness in my body. It takes me far longer than it should to shuffle my way out of the playroom, through the closet, across the bedroom, and into our opulent bathroom.

For once, I’m glad I’m still nude. I doubt I’d have the strength to get any clothes off in my current state. I ease into the stall and sit on the seat built into the wall. I fiddle with the controls until the water is steaming hot and hitting me in all the right places. The sole boon Robert granted me last night is that he didn’t rape me before, during, or after my punishment. A lack of vaginal pain tells me I was spared that particular wifely chore.

A sigh escapes me as the hot water begins to do its job. The water sluices down my face, washing the dried blood away, turning the water a garish, dark pink as it runs in little rivulets down my body. The color clashes with the freckles that liberally dot my entire body.

I don’t dare linger, especially since I have no clue if Robert is still home. Shower sex is one of his favorite things because of the easy clean up. Grabbing a towel off the counter, I refuse to look in the vanity mirror as I wearily walk passed it to focus on the task at hand. I gingerly begin to clean myself up, ignoring the slight tug of the delicate chain that connects my nipples, navel and hood piercings together. Something else that was forced on me by Robert . It was his way of reiterating that my body doesn’t belong to me; it belongs to him, and it is his to do with as he chooses.

The punishment Robert meted out against me last night is one of the worst in a while. Especially since he has a guest coming over tomorrow, and more specifically, since I’ll be the entertainment for the night…and if he wants, possibly the entire weekend. It’s always hard to tell how long Robert will allow his friends to play with me. The sick bastard gets off on letting his cronies rape me in front of him.

All I can think is that his temper got the best of him last night. He normally refuses to let anyone see me looking less than perfect. The thought that he is willing to allow others to see me in this state is alarming to say the least. Because there’s no way any of the swelling in my face or body is going to dissipate it the next twenty-four hours, it means things are changing, and that never ends well for me.

Lately , Robert has been acting like he no longer cares to keep up his charade in front of his lackies. If he is allowing them to see me like this, then he has far worse plans in store for me. Possibly more abhorrent than what I’ve endured for the entirety of our farce of a marriage.

There’s no way I’m going to continue to exist like this. I just can’t do it anymore. The situation I’m in now may be my own fault, as Robert is just one of the many bad decisions in my life, but he is slowly, insidiously killing me. I think he’s growing tired of me, and that could be good or bad.

The very thought makes my stomach cramp in disgust.

He knew I’d never tell Ruby what was happening to me, especially since I did everything in my power to keep her from his sphere of influence. He has tortured me for years with the threat of tracking my sister down … making me watch as he broke her in front of me. The only thing that has stopped him is my continued obedience and the fact that he hasn’t quite figured out how to pull off having a wife and a mistress, while also keeping his flawless “family man” public persona yet.

If he were seen with another woman, it would drastically affect his poll numbers during elections, and the only thing he loves more than sexual torture, is power.

So , I finish my shower, dry myself off, and put on my softest, comfiest pajamas. Then I climb into bed, praying that he is gone for the day and that I can get some rest.

Reaching for my cell phone that is on the bedside table, I realize Robert must have picked it up from where it landed after he grabbed me. I gather what little bit of courageous spirit I have left and do something that, if he finds out, will either make him kill me or beat me within an inch of my life. I download a texting app and send a message to the only person in this world that really, truly loves me.

As teenagers, we had a safe word. If we were on a date and a guy was making us feel uncomfortable, all one of us had to do was call and say the word and the other would come immediately, so this is a message only Ruby will understand. Even if Robert is still tracking my phone usage, he shouldn’t have been able to see this brand-new app or this one short message that I’ll delete once it’s sent. I send up a prayer that Robert is not monitoring my phone.

The message simply says: Boudreaux and Thursday .