Twisted Together
Page 16She was sublime. She was majestic. She annihilated me.
“Tess—” My lips wouldn’t move. I wanted to tell her to snap out of whatever enactment she played. I wanted to shake her, slap her, hit her until the old fire and thrill of pleasure and pain came back into her eyes.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go near her—not while she stayed so open and willing at my feet. I could feel the beast inside reaching for her, snarling at the taste of fully owning her. If I let myself touch her, it would be over. She wouldn’t be my wife. She would be my slave. I would never find balance again.
I was better than that. Tess deserved more than that.
I had to find a way to end all of this horror.
I had to rewind time.
“On your knees, esclave.”
Tess slid to the floor, looking so f**king beautiful in a sheer silver dress and no underwear. Every bruise, every cut, every bite glowed beneath the fine material, stamping my ownership. Marking my claim.
“Please—not again,” she whimpered, sliding to the carpet.
Her disobedience drove me mad—I’d teach her a lesson about her rights. Namely that she had none.
“Your only purpose is to please me. Open that pretty little mouth.”
Her face blanched, but her lips parted like a good little slave. She wore no collar but the brand on her neck glittered silver with permanent scarring.
Mine.
My hands landed on her head as my c**k slid into her mouth. Deeper, deeper, harder, harder.
She whimpered but accepted, spit trailing down her chin as I used her.
The need to come overpowered me, tingling my back, locking my quads. I threw Tess to the floor, and a whip appeared in my hand. I wanted to come all over her while making her skin glow red.
“I won’t. Don’t make me,” Tess pleaded. She fell silent as I struck her.
And struck her.
“I’m not making you do anything you didn’t want. You did this. You made me become this. You gave yourself to a monster.”
I hit her again.
And again.
And again.
I jolted awake.
Launching upright, I glared around the opulent suite. My hand disappeared under the pillow for the HK P2000 hidden there. Franco wasn’t the only one who carried concealed weapons.
Heart revving, eyes darting, I flicked the safety off ready to f**king eradicate any bastard who dared come near Tess again.
The room was dark as a tomb—no light peeked through the black-out curtains, no trickle of illumination anywhere.
The dream echoed behind my eyes.
Tess had been resplendent. Accepting my violence with the beauty of a slave who’d been to hell and back. She lived only to make a devil happy.
Fuck.
I wanted to tear out my black soul and burn it. I wanted to crucify everything disgusting inside. Maybe if I purged myself with fire, I might get rid of the nastiness.
Redemption.
I needed to find some way to redeem myself and halt this path—the road leading to becoming Quincy Mercer II—true born son of Quincy Mercer, the raping bastard.
Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus on the room and not my rapid descent into purgatory.
Something woke me.
Something caused my body to switch straight into killer and protector. I had to stay vigilant just in case one of the many ass**les I’d dealt with had come for me—and they would. I knew the underworld they existed in; retribution would be on its way. In a way the waiting was worse. I wanted it over with—so I could kill.
My hands twitched, gripping the gun harder, training it on shadowy corners of the room.
“No. Please—”
My heart skipped as Tess seized beside me. Her eyes screwed up, a dew of sweat gleaming on her upper lip. Even in the darkness I made out every perfect sweep of her eyelashes, following the soft curves of her body.
Her.
She’d woken me.
I should’ve known—it was hardly a new occurrence. Her voice must’ve plaited with my dream, lacing fantasy with reality. Her pleas had been real, but not for me. Somehow I’d taken the past and Tess’s amazing willingness to give me what I needed, and twisted it with how she was now. She would never say no to me. I learned that the hard way.
Her lies had confused the shit out of me, making me lose complete control. I could blame her for everything—but ultimately it was all on me.
Me, the cocksucker who didn’t deserve her.
My back went rigid as she squirmed. Her obvious distress sickened me, yet in my dream I’d relished it—wanted more of her cries and begs.
I hadn’t cared she didn’t want me. I loved that she didn’t. I loved the non-consent.
I’m heartless and f**king cruel.
Suddenly, my body weighed too much. The migraine had broken thanks to the brief sleep, but the dregs lived in my skull—puncturing my brain with tiny needles. At least my body punished me. I’d earned the pain.
Tess. Goddammit, I couldn’t look at her without dying of guilt.
You burned her. You almost f**king raped her.
I dropped the gun onto the mattress, letting my body sag. My hands disappeared into my hair, holding a mind churning with so many black things.
Her body jolted but she stayed deep asleep—too trapped by her nightmare to wake.
My arms tensed, wishing there was a trespasser in the night—I would make him bleed. I would tear him f**king apart.
The migraine pulsed, gathering power now I was awake. A fresh wave of sickness spread its nausea-inducing fingers up my back, latching around my throat. I wanted to fall to my knees and spew my f**king guts out for what I’d done.
Guilt could kill a man—I’d never been free of the fester all my life but now it’d grown monumental.
I groaned as a lance of pain hit behind my eyes. I hadn’t had headache this bad since Tess had been stolen. And I had no one to direct my rage onto but myself. This time the motherfucker who had to die for hurting her was me.
Picking up the gun, I ran my fingertips over the weighty metal, stroking the weapon that’d been used to take the lives of sadistic men. I’d fought against them. I’d ended their horror, giving the women back to their loved ones. All apart from one.
I looked over at Tess; her voice popped into my head.
“My name is Tess Snow. Not Sweetie, or Tessie, or Honey. I’m a woman only now realizing what she’s capable of. I’m no one’s daughter. I’m no one’s girlfriend. I’m no one’s possession. I belong to me, and for the first time, I know how powerful that is.”
I relived the moment where Tess had returned, bowing to me in the foyer. She’d taken away all my power by giving me all of hers.
“I came back for the man I see inside the master. The man who thinks he’s a monster because of his twisted desires. I came back for Q. I came back to be his esclave, but also to be his equal. I came back to be your everything.”
I squinted at my palm where I’d sliced the flesh, making a blood-oath with Tess. I’d sworn to honour her, cherish her, protect her. I’d married her in my heart that very second in my office, sharing everything that I was while hiding everything I could. She’d come back to me knowing nothing of the real me. The monster.
She trusted you despite everything and look at how you repaid her!
My body stiffened. I have to fix this.
It was my duty to fix what I’d broken—not just today, but for everything I’d done and everything that’d happened.
Tess slept on, giving me space to untangle my thoughts. After the incident, I locked myself in the bathroom and spent an hour under scalding hot water, trying to expel the evil from my veins. When I’d finally had the balls to come out, she’d been asleep—curled up like a homeless kitten hugging a pillow.
I hadn’t meant to fall beside her and close my eyes, but the migraine forced me into a spiral of unconsciousness, giving my imagination time to haunt me while my body healed.
“I won’t! Kill me. I don’t care. I won’t!” Tess shuddered, her voice shattering the silence.
My muscles tensed at her outburst; she fell silent. Watching her, I drank in the slightness of her arms, the twitch of terror going through her limbs. Her body overheated, yet her teeth chattered with cold.
I couldn’t stop fury bubbling in my chest. “Tess. Je veux te sauver mais je n’ai pas la moindre idée de comment le faire. Si je pouvais briser chaque horloge pour remonter le temps je le ferais si seulement je pouvais te voir sourire et être heureuse à nouveau.” I want to save you but have no f**king clue how. If I could smash every clock to rewind time, I would—if only to see you smile and be happy again.
A horrible thought barrelled into me. Maybe the only way to make her happy was to let her go? Maybe I needed to stop being so f**king selfish and let her walk away—from me, my life, from every bad thing that’d happened.
My heart twisted into a painful knot.
I’m not f**king strong enough to do that.
I was cold enough to admit I would rather keep Tess, even with her soul in tatters, than let her go. And that just made me hate myself even more.
Fuck!
She thrashed suddenly, throwing her arm out, catching my chest with her sharp nails.
I hissed in a breath. A keening moan escaped her.
Goddammit, I might never have the courage to set her free—but I wouldn’t sit back and let her circle further into madness.
Tucking the gun under the pillow, I scooted closer, grabbing her clammy form. She fought, but her thin arms and floppy legs were no match. My body wrapped around hers, dragging her into me.
“No. Don’t hurt me. Not again. I can’t take it again.”
Every implore caused the ache in my chest to pound with boulder-sized guilt. I no longer had a ribcage but a gaping, vast hole that I had no f**king clue how to fix.
Even though her words weren’t meant for me, they were too apt—the perfect conclusion of our f**ked-up relationship.
Locking my arms, I held her close. Sliding onto my side, I tucked her back to my front, wrapping a leg around hers. Spooned and cocooned—protected by my body.
Tess didn’t respond. Even with the heat of the room and warmth from the sheets, her body was ice. Worse than ice: it was dead—sucked into a dream where the only thing she wished for was to die.
Another shudder passed through her. My palm twitched with the urge to slap her awake, but I knew from experience it didn’t work. It only made me feel like shitless scum. Instead, I pressed my mouth against her soft curls, swallowing my anguish.
I wanted to f**king scream at how broken everything was. This was torture. Worst f**king crucifixion imaginable.
Don’t accept it. Don’t f**king put up with this.
I wanted to fight on her behalf. I wanted to tear her brain apart and delete what I’d done. Now she’d seen what I really wanted how could I hide? How could I ever convince her I would never raise my hand to her again—even though I would always dream of it?
Her body stiffened; I locked my arms tighter. I was ready for this part. It was the same night after night.
The nightmare came in threes: first the screams, then the pleas, and lastly the acceptance of absolute terror.
“Je suis là.” I’m here. I didn’t know if she heard—but at least she wasn’t going through this alone.
Her body seized like an epileptic. My biceps ached from holding, anchoring her to me, adrift in the storm of nightmares.
“You win. I beg. I beg you to end my life.”
The tears began. No sound, just a soft waterfall trailing her cheeks. Droplet after droplet of sadness. “Kill me!”
My stomach churned. I hated being so f**king helpless. Hated lying there unable to do anything.
Pins and needles stabbed my fingertips as I held her too hard. The protectiveness in my blood drummed with need to desecrate her demons. Her vulnerability angered me; I struggled briefly to see her as the strong fighter and not a broken slave.
Tess walked such a fine line in my life—she had to be strong, but not too strong to tempt me to break her. She had to be submissive, but not too weak that it called to the monster inside. Such a fine line where one slip meant either being shoved away in repulsion or dragged closer in poisonous obsession.
Not for the first time, I worried I was completely psychotic and in desperate need of help.
At least she wasn’t giving me mixed signals while she slept. And I no longer needed to find out the truth. I knew.
She hated pain.
Deplored pain.
The one thing that’d brought us together was the one thing driving us apart.
A flutter of her breath tickled my chest. I glanced down. The palm print from when I struck her in the hallway looked almost black in the gloom—outlined on her white thigh like a curse. The red burns from the wax on her br**sts were beautifully horrific.
My heart banged with disgust and passion.
You’re sick.
I bowed my head.
I know.
I’d wanted the truth, but Tess hid it too well. She had no idea my instincts would pick up on her tales, messing with my mind. The beast couldn’t tell what was real and what was not—driving me further into the dark.
But now she knew who I truly was. Knew what I’d kept hidden. The starkness of her lies were nothing to how black I really ran.