Page 33 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)

TWENTY-SIX

NAZ

E ventually, I drag myself to bed – not that it mattered. There is no rest for the confused.

The covers are in disarray, creating a rumpled canvas to display my struggle.

The events of the night plague my restless mind like a movie on repeat. A sickening horror movie.

When I close my eyes, all I see is Chaos. I am a helpless voyeur looking through a dirty window as my past transgressions circle their prey.

Chaos is surrounded by my worst fears.

The first blurry image of a distorted man magnifies my insecurity about whether he would still want me if he knew the truth about my past. The image bombards him with devastating facts about my injuries and my failure to protect myself.

He throws pictures of my blood-soaked wrists in my face.

I see his knees buckle under the weight of the confessions.

But the expression on his face is non-committal.

A second faceless being grabs him by the collar, hauls him up to his feet, only to scream all my shortcomings into his face. Chaos hardly flinches, taking every comment in stride.

Every taunt is a dagger digging deeper into the naked bones of my flimsily constructed life.

The main tormentor, the face with the dead eyes, steps forward to walk right up to Griffin and punch him in the face. So many years have passed that the image of his face is starting to fade, all but his malicious eyes.

And the name, Riley Deacon.

Griffin spits while blood dribbles along his chin, defiantly challenging him to do it again.

When I press closer, my hands are grabbed behind my back, and I am held back.

I am manhandled through a door that appeared on my right and tossed to the floor at Griffin’s feet.

“You would take this for her?” Riley screams into Chaos’s face.

“You would sacrifice everything you are and all that you have for her? Why?” Spittle flies into Griffin’s eyes, but he doesn’t back down.

He would look at me with possession in his eyes and simply state, “She is mine to protect.”

Heaving and drenched, I stagger up only to find myself alone in my playhouse, encased behind the intricate security system that I bypass via the app on my phone just to open a window.

I hate it.

I take a second to enjoy the cool breeze rushing into the room, seeking solace but never finding it. What once brought me joy has changed into banishment after Chaos dropped me off here at the playhouse because he still doesn’t know I live somewhere else.

I stroll back to bed and lie on my back to ponder my situation clearly. Using this location as my playhouse served dual purposes. Not only did it keep my private life private, but I also gave me a foxhole for when a hunter appeared.

Whispering the words my heart refuses to acknowledge, “He will fight for me,” causes a loophole in my meticulously concocted magic trick that is my life.

After years of obsessively overthinking every aspect of my safety, entrusting another human with my care is freeing. If there has ever been someone who deserves to know where I live, it should be him, right?

In fact, on some level, my heart insists I trust him, too. But business arrangements leave no room for emotional negotiations. And all this bravado may be due to another reason: his ego.

Yes, he is an annoying brat sometimes. Scratch that, most of the time .

Not to mention, he is a real-life criminal, but through it all, he has irrefutably proved his willingness to stand between me and danger – even if that danger was caused by my own idiocy.

How could I have been so stupid?

I knew there was something wrong with Vlad the moment I met him. His aura was that of a man not to be messed with. He reminded me of Riley in more ways than one. But I wanted to give Rose the benefit of the doubt, show that my impression of people was not tainted by fear and paranoia.

In reality, Vlad approached me, so it can be assumed that he had ulterior motives. No one buys a two-million-dollar painting just for kicks. He wanted to make an impression.

Rose was enthralled with his presence from the beginning. I saw her giggling and touching his arm.

What should have tipped me off was how his body stiffened at her touch and the absence of light in his eyes.

People like that have either seen horrific shit or done terrible things. I vote for the latter.

Why, then, you may ask, did I still agree to go to the club with Rose?

The answer is simple. I wanted to make it up to my friend, whose friendship I had neglected. Guilt made me ignore all the signs of the dangerous situation we would get caught in .

I should have trusted my gut.

But that is not the part of the night that bothers me most. The part that plagues me is what happened after that asshole verbally assaulted me.

I fear I have made a grave error.

I have been trying so hard to put Chaos in his place that I ignored the position that was rightfully his. Through all the fights and mess, he has made one fact abundantly clear. He will always be my protector.

I am so exhausted from doing the job myself.

The constant watch to avoid anything menacing has been taxing, to say the least. Running from one place to another, starting over, and generating a life out of nothing has taken its toll on me.

I long to be wrapped in the knowledge that nothing can touch me. I relish the power that Chaos holds in his hand to walk into an establishment in jeans and a t-shirt and still demand the reverence owed to such a strong protector.

But more importantly, I find that I yearn to be the woman by his side. His queen, who would rule his world by his side as an equal. Not just another woman to be stomped on till her body breaks and her mind twists.

Chaos has never denied me anything. I just had to work a little harder to earn it. Maybe that is what I am doing now: I am making him work for the privilege of keeping me safe and sharing my secrets .

Or am I putting him in more danger?

The tension between Chaos and Vlad was palpable.

Nothing good can come from this.

It is one thing to keep my past transgressions from ruining my future. But this is a different playing field. And I am sorely outnumbered if I believe my sassy retorts and ball-busting moves would be enough to play in this league.

Chaos dragged himself away from his work to come to rescue my sorry ass.

That was after I left him at home, not informing him of my plans to go out.

He could have left me to my own devices.

A lesser man would have. But he came storming in like an avenging angel to whisk me off.

I smirk at my own melodramatic thoughts. There is no curbing what haunts me. Ever.

There is no sanctuary where I will be hidden from the nightmare that taunts the demons of my past. Or should I say one demon?

I roll to my other side and look at the clock on the bedside table next to the bowl of condoms.

With Chaos, those things are as useful as a third tit.

One AM and I still haven’t found a way to get to sleep.

Better than ever, I know now that Chaos has more information on this whole situation. The words exchanged between Chaos and Vlad float into my muddled mind, searching for something that makes sense.

I know a few facts for sure. Vlad knew who I was before he addressed me in the gallery.

Chaos also knew precisely who he was talking to, even though they had never been introduced. Or have they? No, I am sure this was their first time meeting. That much I could remember.

Chaos knew exactly what Vlad was referring to when he mentioned a business deal. This means Chaos must have turned him down at some point, and this might have been Vlad’s way of coercing Chaos into making the deal.

But why would Chaos not want to do business with Vlad? Unless it was something really despicable, too despicable to mention.

But wouldn’t this have been useful information? Like, ‘Hey, babes, don’t talk to strange men. It might be dangerous.’

Common sense dictates that I should have guessed that by myself.

He is just not telling me everything. Can I really blame him?

Am I not keeping my past a secret as well? Who knows what he would do if he discovered the truth?

Who knows what Riley would do if he discovered where I stayed?

The more accurate term is hiding .

I am hiding from life, existing from one futile sexual experience to the next. Trying anything to get back that feeling of being alive.

And thus far, nothing has made me feel that again.

Until Chaos came into the picture.

I roll to my other side and notice the St. Andrews cross, standing exactly where we used it last time.

Usually, when I am tired of a lover, I get this overwhelming sense of restriction, and I must get rid of him. Especially when the person becomes threatening, or I fear my defenses are crumbling.

With Griffin, I want to burn down the walls I have erected and time how long it takes him to come charging in with no regard for his own safety. I want to test the lengths he would go to, to keep me shielded from the world he builds around me.

Not only does he make me feel worthy of his protection, but he also alludes to the fact that he will personally take care of me.

And my soul craves what he offers, disregarding what would happen to my heart if Chaos decides to end our business arrangement.

Frustrated, I throw the covers off me and shuffle to my little work area.

There is only one way to work this out: on canvas.

Squeezing various colors onto my palette without an image in mind, I prepare for a long, grueling night.

Rose called me at around eight o’clock.

“Friend, I am so sorry. I should have listened to you when you suggested we leave.

Suggested?

“Are you crazy? I begged you to go, but you only saw the cute guy who bought a painting.”

She does sound remorseful, “I know, and I am sorry, okay? I just wanted a taste of what you have. It gets lonely when you don’t have your best friend by your side anymore.”

If bullshit smelt like roses, I would be trapped in a rose garden right now.

“Cut the crap. You were thinking with your vajay instead of your head, which we can’t allow.

We need to look out for each other, and we walked straight into the lion’s den to be devoured in the VIP section.

What were you thinking? That he was going to toss aside the six other girls he had on the couch and only want you? ”

Contemptuously, she tsks, “It could happen. It worked for you, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but I fucked his brains out in the gallery’s storage room on the night we met. Is that the kind of life you want?” My voice’s volume is rising.

“No. You know it isn’t.”

“Look, my life isn’t all dicks and sunshine.

I told you about the challenges I face with Griffin, and those are just the ones I know of.

I will not mention the complications that I bring to the table.

The point being, everything isn’t as it seems, and everyone has to work for it.

If there is one thing that I can take away from this whole ordeal, it would be that you have to wait for the guy that deserves you and not jump on the first fuck stick that comes with a side of excitement. ” I am out of breath from the tirade.

“I know; I just want more, you know?”

I blink rapidly at the lonely tone in her voice.

“Rose, please just be careful. I won the jackpot with Griffin but most of the time it feels like Survivor out here,” I say pleadingly.

She snorts over the line, “Liar. It is more like Naked and Afraid with you.”

We both laugh, and some of the tension drains from my shoulders.

“Let’s make a deal. How about we decide to stay in control of situations and keep interactions on familiar ground from now on. It is just one step in the right direction to ensure we don’t become sex slaves in a foreign country.” I don’t relay how much the idea scares me.

“Deal, although it must be nice to know that you have a big, strong man willing to charge in any time someone insults your virtue.”

“Maybe the lack of virtue has him charging; you never know,” I offer.

The tense tone leaves her voice and is replaced with remorse, “I am really so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know. All is forgiven.” She is my best friend, after all.

“Griffin really was impressive,” she says.

“He was, wasn’t he?” I add to what turns into a long and convoluted gossip session.