Page 26 of Stand: Part One

In a matter of weeks, I’d successfully reduced Jaden to nothing more than a sweet little pet.

It took patience, time, and so much discipline, but eventually, everybody broke. Even the strongest of us. And with the mind games I liked to play, Jaden never stood a chance, especially with a pretty shock collar around her neck.

Psychological torture was an art form in warfare, and I happened to be a very talented artist. Jaden was not weak-minded by any means, and conditioning her had been a challenge I couldn’t help but enjoy.

But every day, little by little, that steel trap surrounding her mind would crack. And those little cracks were enough to allow me to slither through to tamper, and corrupt, and rewire everything I wanted. With enough pressure, Jaden became play-dough in my hands, and it was my greatest pleasure to mold and shape her to my liking.

I’d warned her of the inevitable so long ago when I’d had her dangling from those chains, fighting me with everything she had, still believing she had a choice. Back when she was still just a dollar sign at the warehouse.

And while I had broken her, the little spitfire had also successfully broken me.

For the first time in my life, I found myself alarmingly obsessed. To such a disturbing degree that I would compromise my own sanity and relentlessly fixate until my mind was so damn distracted I could focus on nothing else.

I’d never wanted anything with such an intense urgency before in my life. This tiny sprig of a girl had consumed me entirely, mind, body, and soul, and there was no escaping her. I was well and truly gone, tortured by a prize that had grabbed my soul by the throat and ruthlessly claimed it.

The strength of my obsession was unrivaled, and even when I’d finally acted and taken her, it did nothing to dull the flame. It just grew and grew until the blazing inferno threatened to burn us both to the ground.

The lengths I would go to for this woman—to keep her in my grasp and under my control—was boundless. There couldn’t have been a deadlier fixation.

Jaden was mine. And to my detriment…I was hers.

Bending down, I unlocked the cage and pulled the top up to let it lean against the wall, careful not to wake my Sleeping Beauty.

Lifting her small, shivering frame from the cage, I carried her to the bed and gently laid her under the sheets. I then shed the rest of my clothes and got in with her, pulling her freezing-cold body into my chest and wrapping my arms tightly around her.

I sighed with contentment at the feel of her against me, her head pressing against my chest as she slept. I ran my thumb along the side of her soft cheek, the yellow blemishes of a fading bruise I’d given her the week before catching my attention.

It paired well with the healing split lip that followed, a reminder of how valuable her silence was when facing my wrath.

Even deep in her sleep, Jaden’s response to me was almost immediate as she burrowed herself further into my chest, seeking what only I could give her. She knew the source of her comfort and understood that anything and everything she needed would always come from me and only me.

Clothing her, feeding her, bathing her, fucking her—it all came from me. It took her a long time to accept and adjust, but eventually, she learned to stop biting the hand that fed her.

Jaden’s reliance on me was now so deeply embedded into her brain that she wouldn’t even walk unless I told her she could. She knew that I didn’t want her moving a single inch unless I either carried her or gave her explicit permission.

One single unauthorized step could land her in a world of pain she’d learned long ago how to avoid. Her first instinct now would be to crawl to me on command before ever assuming I’d allow her the privilege of autonomy—of choice.

Appeasement was her goal now. And she was getting damn good at it.

I held her like that for another thirty minutes before she finally stirred in my embrace. Her eyes fluttered open, a quiet morning grumble escaping her throat before she realized where she was. And when she did, a sleepy smile formed on her lips, and her eyes closed again as she pressed further into me.

“Morning,” she whispered sweetly.

Clutching her tightly, I kissed the top of her head, loving how she felt in my arms like this—soft, sleepy, malleable, and completely mine.

“Good morning,” I murmured, brushing her hair from her face and running my fingers through the silky strands.

And what a morning it would be.

My eyes opened immediately, the last fragments of the memory fading away as I quickly surveyed the bedroom. Once satisfied, I lay back into the bed, releasing a deep breath, and adjusted my raging hard-on, courtesy of a very fond pastime. A time much like today, minus the feisty attitude and sharp tongue.

I glanced to my right to find Jaden still sleeping quietly, her body curled into itself. Recognizing the tell, I reached over and pulled her to me, pressing my chest into her back and burying my nose in her hair. I smiled as her body instantly melted into mine, my warm embrace giving her exactly what she needed.

She’d been back in this bed for the last three weeks, and now I never wanted her to leave it. I couldn’t help but draw the parallels between our time in the basement and now.

Once again, she was entirely reliant on me to take care of her, and I fucking loved it. Her dependence satisfied a need in me to provide and protect, something the little brat had continuously robbed me of time and time again.

Falling back into an old, familiar routine had me relishing the past. Just knowing that Jaden was essentially trapped in our bed, unable to leave without my permission, unable to do nothing but wait for me to give the orders, was an antidote to my never-ending fury.