Page 27

27

LAVINIA

I settle into a new routine that kindles my hope anew and drowns out the horrible things I learned at the hands of the guard—Jan—who raped me.

Slowly, I heal from the assault.

Knowing that Dorin kidnapped me and is keeping me captive hasn’t changed the way my body reacts to him and his dark ministrations.

Electrotherapy becomes a regular occurrence, and Dorin takes me back to the punishment room several times to string me up and spank me, then fuck my ass.

The first few times he ties me to the hook in the ceiling—the same way Jan did—I nearly panic.

But as with the electrotherapy, Dorin demands my attention on him at all times, thus slowly shoving the vile memories of Jan out of my head.

Dorin doesn’t use his baton on me again, even though it’s always hanging from his belt now.

He only uses his hands.

They’re more than plenty to rip loud screams out of me and send burning pain into my flesh.

He doesn’t hold back—not with the forceful smacks, but also not the comfort.

He’ll wrap an arm around my waist and pull me into his body, holding me tight, as he rains heavy blows down on my ass.

Sometimes, I scream and writhe, trying to evade the pain, and some days, I sink into him, accepting it openly.

No matter how it starts, it always ends the same way—with me weeping in Dorin’s arms, crying out the hurt and anger that has festered inside me.

Dorin even starts taking me to a workout room, where he drills me on the treadmill until my legs ache and I’m begging for a pause.

The first few times, it doesn’t take long to reach that point.

Having been confined to a small cell for weeks, maybe even months, my body is weak and tired, but despite the slow progress, the exercise works wonders on both my mind and body.

I find myself growing more and more attached to Dorin, and I feel him doing the same with me.

But no matter how much affection he shows me, I can’t shake an ominous feeling gnawing deep in my gut.

Deep down, I know there’s no good end to this.

I try not to think too much about it, but one day when we’re lying in my cell after electrotherapy, Dorin asks a question that opens the gate to a well of worry and fearful questions.

“Do you still want to die?”

I consider it for a few quiet minutes.

I have barely even thought about it for a long time.

Dorin has breathed new hope into me.

He has sparked a desire that blooms and grows and craves more of the warped brand of pain and protection he offers.

He has shown me that there’s more to life than the struggle to stay alive.

Sinking deeper into him, I breathe in his scent and press my hands to his strong chest.

“No,” I say.

I want to stay with you.

I don’t dare to say those last words, afraid they’ll ruin the moment as he hugs me closer and peppers tiny kisses onto my hair.

But as the quietness descends anew and my thoughts keep skipping down that dangerous lane, the anxiety grows, and I have to know.

“Do you still plan on selling me?”

I hold my breath as I wait for his response, the hope that he’ll say no growing.

When he curves his wide palm around the back of my head and presses a long, tender kiss to my hair, I think he’ll give me the answer I’m hoping for.

But once again, everything comes crashing down—with one little word.

“Yes,” he says.

My heart contracts, and a feverish rush of cold shudders through me.

“What? Why?” I finally manage.

“I thought—” I push out from him, needing some distance as he breaks my heart.

“That’s why I brought you here,” he explains, like it’s a given.

My lips part and close as I try to say something, but a lump has lodged in my throat, blocking all sound.

I thought things had changed.

All those things he said and did…

That I belong to him.

That he’d protect me.

I thought he wanted me.

Turning away from him, I wipe at my teary eyes as humiliation twists within my gut.

I feel so damn stupid for thinking something had changed.

I know why Dorin brought me here.

I know he’s not a good person.

I know he’s a lone wolf who thrives on pain and brutality.

Yet somehow, I convinced myself that he could change for me.

He lifts his hand to stroke my hair, but I jerk away from him.

Suddenly, I can’t bear to be near him.

It’s too painful.

“Then sell me,” I say, fighting off the pressing tears.

“Sell me or kill me.”

“I can’t kill you,” he says, a grave tone making his voice deepen.

“Then sell me,” I say, recklessly hoping it will push him to choose something entirely different that I almost don’t dare hope for.

Regret tightens his voice.

“I’m not ready.”

“Then keep me,” I say, holding my breath as I realize this has been my greatest wish for a long time.

Maybe even before Jan crushed my world, and maybe even despite the betrayal I felt at Dorin afterwards.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” I ask, even knowing it’s useless.

“I don’t know how.” Confusion morphs into determination as he adds, “I don’t want a girl.”

“Not even me?” I shouldn’t have asked the question, because the lump in my throat expands, and tears pool in my eyes as I turn and see the answer on his face.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s clear—at some point, he made the decision to be alone, and not even the bond that has grown between us can change that.

I can’t change that.

I want to cry.

Sink into deep despair and let him mend the brokenness like he’s done so many times before as I wept in his arms.

But I can’t do it.

Not this time.

Because this time, he’s the one to have caused that bone-deep hurt.

So I turn the hurt into anger.

“Then sell me,” I snap, sitting up and scooting away from him.

“Just fucking sell me.”

He reaches for me, but I rip my arm out of his grip.

“Sell me,” I demand.

“If you won’t keep me, then get it over with.”

He sits up too, and when he reaches for me again, I start hitting him.

First, I only use my flat palms on his arms, but when he tries to pull me into him, I curl them into fists and bang away at his chest.

“Just sell me, goddammit. If you don’t want me, then get rid of me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

He just sits there, taking my banging fists until I wear myself out and break down, fat tears rolling down my cheeks as raw sobs claw at my throat.

When I’ve worn myself out, too weak to resist his comfort, he pulls me into him.

Then he just holds me.

It’s strange, though, there seems to be regret in his arms as he grabs me so tightly my breathing becomes labored.

It makes the hope flicker back on, but the light is faint.

And as Dorin remains quiet, showing no signs whatsoever of changing his mind, I can’t take it anymore.

“Sell me,” I say with determination.

Dorin inhales deeply, and his breath shudders as he pushes the air back out.

It’s almost like he can’t stand the idea.

But when he grabs my shoulders and holds me out to look at me, his gaze is emotionless—resigned.

I have to look away quickly because it’s too painful seeing him, hoping and wanting, and having that hope crushed.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

He looks off to the side, his jaw clicking as he seems to consider something.

When he looks back at me, there’s a strange sort of hope in his eyes.

“I’ll keep you for a while. You can stay here, like you do now. I’ll take care of you and protect you until I find a good buyer. Someone who will be merciful.”

“How long will that take?” I ask, my voice straining with a new well of grief.

For a while.

That’s all I get.

“I don’t know. A few months. Maybe a year.”

I shake my head with hopelessness.

“I—No. It’s too long.” I pull away from him, jerking back when he tries to touch me again.

“I can’t bear it. It hurts too much. Just get it over with.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sell me. Now. I can’t be around you anymore.”

His jaw tightens, and something dark settles over his features.

He looks me up and down, then says, “Okay. I’ll put you on tonight’s auction. I’ll come get you in a few hours to get you ready.”

My throat tightens, every nerve in my body feeling raw and exposed at the mere proximity to him—aching for him and knowing he doesn’t want me.

“No. I can’t do this anymore. Send someone else. I can’t be around you. I just—” My voice breaks.

“I can’t.”

The darkness in his eyes deepens, turning his pupils into two black pits.

It’s almost like my rejection angers him.

But before I can examine his expression further or respond, he turns his back to me.

A sharp ache spears through my bones as I watch his big frame approach the door and I realize this will be the last time I see him.

I want to rush up and grab him—say something.

Give him one final hug.

But the hurt is too deep.

I just sit there and watch him go.