Tortured Soul Page 10

  “The only person who is not safe is Jonas Levier. The term “dead man walking” has never been more fitting. I’m going to make him wish he was never born then I am going to remove him from this world once and for all.”

  His powerful gaze was full of reckoning and fury. I should have been frightened to see someone who held as much hate for a single person as I did, but instead it made me feel connected to him. We both wanted Jonas’s death and Shakhta appeared to want it almost as much as I did. What he was offering gave me some peace, but one thing about it bothered me. I wanted to be the one to take Jonas’ evil soul from this world. The fear over doing such a thing was so thick it felt like sludge on my skin. Fear of taking a life, fear of taking his life. Although I hated him, I was also terrified of him. I wish I didn’t have that fear, I wish I was stronger than that. But if it came down to me or Shakhta taking my former master’s life, it would more than likely be the man on his knees before me. Although I knew Jonas was no longer my master, he still carried far too much control over me. If he issued a command, it was likely I would obey without thought. The dark warrior, who was full of confidence and power, kneeling before me would be the one to settle the score. It pissed me off and humbled me.

  Shakhta pulled my seatbelt over my lap and clicked it into place. With a wink, he returned to his seat across from me. My eyes snuck a glance through the plane’s window, but all I saw was blackness. The airfield was on the outskirts of town, surrounded by thick firs and beautiful forest. The business district sat to the west, a fifteen minute drive, and to the east was a winding drive through the Black Ridge Mountain Range. Claymont’s airport was small, and at this time of the night, I imagine it would be deserted. The plane landed with a gentle thud, and my heart raced. I was home. I knew I should feel some jolt of sentimental fondness at the notion, but I didn’t. All I felt was a deep seated fear, the same fear that was always there created by years of abuse. I was afraid of being found by Jonas, afraid of his retaliation. There was also the fear of hope—because with hope came disappointment—it was just easier not to have expectations. But now I found myself caught with the desperate hope that I could start over, hope that I could finally be free. The only thing that seemed to bring me any resemblance to peace was my new master. I was holding his promises close to my heart, and his protectiveness of me, though unfamiliar, was welcomed. I didn’t want him to leave me; I wanted him to want me. If he were to throw me away as Master Jonas had done, the pain would be a thousand times worse.

  Shakhta stood and cast a quick look my way. I rose gracefully, and the blanket on my lap fell to the ground. My feet throbbed with a dull ache reminding me of the cuts on my soles, and all I had been though over the last twenty-four hours. At least I was alive. I almost snorted at the thought. I had yearned for death, begged Jonas to deliver it to me, and when he refused, I begged Nate. I had tried pills, cutting my wrists, taunting the most volatile and unrestrained masochists all to no avail. Now, here I stood, grateful to still be alive.

  When I reached the open hatch of the plane, Bomber, Gabbie and Larz had already disembarked and spread out, their eyes observing the quiet airfield with an intense and alert watchfulness. An SUV, much like the one we had driven through Nassau, sat close by. A tall and athletically built man stood by the front door. He was dressed completely in black, and his hair was trimmed military short. The way he stood—alert and ready—screamed soldier, much like the ones who had taken on the duty of protecting me. Before I could take a step out of the plane, I was scooped into Shakhta’s strong arms.

  “I want you off those feet,” he murmured.

  I was carried down the stairs and towards the SUV. The man, who stood stoically waiting, grinned widely. It played more easily across his handsome face than Shakhta’s smile, telling me he used it more frequently.

  “Bout time,” he said as we grew closer.

  Shakhta simply grunted. “Dillon, this is Emily. Em, this is my cousin Dillon Montgomery.”

  I nodded, remembering the man who had killed my abusive husband. I took note of Dillon’s kind eyes, tanned skin, and perfect white teeth. If I weren’t so afraid of human contact, I would’ve hugged him for his part in freeing me from one of the Levier men. Apart from the fact both he and my new master were undoubtedly handsome, they had little to no family resemblance. Where Dillon’s close cropped hair was a light brown, Shakhta’s was as dark as midnight. Where Dillon’s eyes were a carefree greenish grey, Shakhta’s were an intense dark brown. Dillon was slightly taller and leaner with more of a swimmer’s physique, Shakhta’s shoulders were wide, leading to a narrow waist, but his legs and arms were solid muscle. Shakhta’s face had masculine lines full of profound concentration and thoughtfulness, ever the vigil silent type. Dillon had a softer appearance; he looked more approachable and expressive. It was Shakhta’s dark aura, however, that made my heart race.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Emily,” Dillon said with a smile.

  I wanted to smile in reply, but I just couldn’t. Not a single part of me felt like smiling, and I don’t know if I ever would again. Dillon opened the back door and I was placed carefully on the seat. I moved into the middle as Shakhta slid in beside me and to my other side, sat Gabbie. Larz sat in the front and Bomber sat by himself behind us.

  “Nice to finally meet the team.” Dillon started the engine.

  “Good to meet boss number two,” Larz replied, holding out his hand to shake Dillon’s. Gabbie and Bomber gave an affable hello as the car moved away from the airfield.

  “We need to make a hospital stop?” Dillon asked, his eyes moving to Bomber.

  “It’s just a scratch. Gabbie patched it up.”

  “I’ve got field medic training. I’ll take a look at it when we get to the house,” replied Dillon.

  “Any news on the ground here?” Shakhta asked.

  “Nada, quiet as a mouse.”

  I tuned out the idle chitchat and watched the passing scenery in the window across from Shakhta’s strong figure. As we got closer to town, the scenery became familiar, yet different. Old businesses were gone, and new ones took their place. Some houses I recognized from my childhood, however, others were completely foreign to me. The town really was pretty, and I wondered why I had been so desperate to flee Claymont in the first place. I had wanted nothing more than to escape the quiet and mundane, and when I found a city full of lights and excitement, it ultimately ruined me. It was in the city where evil found me. If I had never left Claymont, my life would have turned out completely different. Maybe I would be married now, possibly even have a family. But because of my own selfish wants, I had all of my hopes and dreams taken from me. My fault, it was all my own damn fault. My fists clenched in my lap. A warm weight settled on them, and I glanced down. Shakhta’s hand rested over mine. I looked up and his eyes were questioning. He was asking me if holding my hand was acceptable. I unclenched my hand and turned it over so our fingers entwined. Gabbie, on my other side, noticed and quickly looked away. Was she jealous? I wasn’t sure I could reliably recognize such emotion. I had never had a reason to be jealous of other women sharing Jonas, William, or any of the men who fucked me. Sympathy for those women, most definitely.

  We drove around the outskirts of town and kept to the suburbs, eventually pulling into the familiar area of my childhood. This was where I had lived with B and Grandma before I left Claymont, before my life went to hell in a hand basket. For a fleeting second, I thought we were going to my old home, until Dillon passed the street that led to it. Instead, we entered an obvious affluent suburb. If the pricey cars parked in wide driveways didn’t give it away, the sprawling homes on larger than normal tracts of land did. The car moved with a gentle bump off the street, through a large iron gate that opened as we approached it. We continued driving down a long driveway that led to a circular finish in front of an impressive single story home. Wide steps led the way to an impressive double oak door. The home looked luxurious and modern, but elegantly beautiful. We all cl
imbed from the car, and Shakhta scooped me up once again into his muscular arms. As he climbed the three stairs up the wide stoop, I pretended that this was my new home I was coming home to, rather than a temporary place. I allowed myself a moment to visualize Shakhta as my master, and that he wanted to keep me. So far he had been a kind master, gentle and understanding. He made me feel safe. I tried to imagine a life where I was always cared for. It had been so long since I felt protected. With the nervous energy surrounding us, I was ushered into the home. No words were spoken as each person seemed to disappear into the recesses of the house. Shakhta carried me through to the living area and deposited me with care onto an expensive looking white couch. I immediately stood back up, fearing my grubby clothes might tarnish such exquisite furniture.

  “What are you doing, Malen’kaya?”

  “Shakhta, I don’t want to get your couch dirty.”

  The grin that so rarely graced his face broke free, and he took a few short steps towards me. He placed his large hands on my shoulders and gently pressed down in a silent plea to sit, so I did.

  “Eli has already spilled soda, chocolate and some sort of green slime on this sofa. A little dirt isn’t going to make any difference at this stage. Welcome to my home.”

  I wondered who Eli was but didn’t bother to ask. I was emotionally drained and just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. Even though I slept on the jet, I still felt listless and flat. As my gaze floated over Shakhta’s home, I couldn’t help but shudder. There had been a moment of wonder and awe when I had first entered Master Jonas’ home, too. It had turned out to be hell on earth.

  Dillon had Bomber sitting at the long dining table, his pants dropped around his ankles. He wore boxers that covered his nudity, but I averted my eyes regardless. It wasn’t that nudity bothered me, I just didn’t want anyone to get the impression that I was interested in them in that way. I had learned early on with Jonas that curious glances could bring unwanted attention.

  “You should live. Doesn’t even need stitches,” Dillon confirmed.

  Bomber grunted as he pulled his pants back on.

  Dillon continued, “Down that hall you’ll find two spare rooms, take one and get yourself cleaned up.”

  Bomber disappeared as Gabbie slid silently through the back glass doors that overlooked a large pool surrounded with outdoor furniture. There was a small guest house in the very back of the property. Beyond the fence that bordered the property was nothing but thick sprawling firs that were a common sight for Claymont. The town was surrounded by mountains, which at this time of year were capped in snow. Unspoiled forest reserves, which began at the base, climbed steadily higher into the beautiful summits. Claymont was truly a picturesque town; it was comfortable with old-world charm, but was busy enough due to the renowned college on its outskirts. As I looked over the stunning countryside lit by moonlight, I found myself questioning once again why I ever left.

  I regarded the unfamiliar room around me. It was an open plan with a large modern kitchen, dining room and living area. The walls were white, the floor coverings white, the furniture either white, black or chrome. Some people may have found it a little stark and impersonal, but I found it peaceful. Black and white photos of landscapes covered some of the walls, and even though I found myself drawn to the quiet yet expressive images, I couldn’t bring myself to move in for a closer look. Not until Shakhta entered the room from the wide open hall in front of me. Obedience reigned where my master was concerned. I stood, pressing my tired shoulders back, my head slightly lowered submissively, and my gaze rested on his. He held out his hand, and I gingerly walked forward to take it.

  “I’ll show you your room. You can clean up and get some rest.” I began to follow him down the long hallway. “Are your feet alright, do you want me to carry you?”

  “I’m fine, Shakhta,” I whispered.

  “That’s Dillon’s room.” Shakhta nodded in the direction of a closed door to my right. “And over there is the study.” He nodded to another closed door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Bathroom.” He nodded to our left again as we passed a different closed door. “My room.” This time he pointed out an open door on our right.

  I got a glimpse of a large king size bed with soft black comforter and pillows. An enormous framed black and white picture of a forest scene sat on the wall above the bed. The thick trunks of the trees took up most of the frame. A gentle fog hung in the air, giving the picture an ominous impression. To me it looked peaceful and quiet.

  “You can use this room.” Shakhta signaled to a room behind us, and I stepped cautiously toward it.

  He pushed open the door and led me through. There was a queen size bed adorned with a red comforter, and red and black matching pillows. Two small art deco lights sat on the wall above the bed and there was a small table on either side. A large set of dresser drawers that matched the bedside tables was propped against the wall in front of the bed and to my right was a closed door which I assumed hid the closet. On the other side of the room were sheer curtains that stood as a barrier between the room and a sliding glass door, which led to the back patio.

  Shakhta must have noticed my gaze. “I don’t want you going outside, Em. Keep the curtains drawn.” He moved over to the windows and pulled a second heavier curtain across the view. “I’ll go get you a clean shirt to wear for tonight. I believe Rebecca has been busy shopping for you, so when you go home tomorrow you can finally wear something of your own.”

  His words took a moment to register. “Home?”

  When Shakhta looked up, his gaze was hard and even, a stark difference from the concerned looks he had spared me thus far. It frightened me a little to see him look at me that way.

  “Home, Em, your house. Actually it’s yours and Rebecca’s. Charlie lives there, too. They’ve been busy renovating it; you probably won’t recognize it—”

  “You’re giving me away, Shakhta?” I whispered, my lip trembling.

  Shakhta ran his hand through his hair with agitation. “Not getting rid of you, Em, just taking you home, where you belong.” Before I had a chance to panic he moved forward, pressing his hands to my cheeks. “Rebecca will flay me alive if I don’t take you to the house tomorrow. Let’s just take it slowly okay? You can see the house, your room, and then decide where you will feel more comfortable.”

  I nodded, though a part of me was still reeling at the thought of Shakhta discarding me. When he headed toward the bedroom door, I called out in panic, “Shakhta?

  While I looked forward to having some time to myself, I was still nervous about him leaving. Talk about screwed up; my body and heart were at complete and utter war with each other. He turned back to face me. “W...where will you be?”

  Shakhta sauntered back to me, looking concerned once again. There was no sign of the hard cold stare he had given me moments before. “I’m going to make sure the team is settled in, then we are going to have a quick meeting in the study. I won’t be leaving the premises, and if you need me for anything come find me. Try and get some rest though, it’s after midnight.”

  “Yes, Shakhta,” I whispered.

  He was standing so close we were almost touching. He looked down at me with those dark eyes, regarding me with lustful interest. I could see the war raging behind those eyes, the need that he was trying so desperately to reject. He squeezed his eyes closed, and when they opened the desire and want in his gaze was palpable.

  “I’m such a bastard,” he murmured right before his lips crushed against mine.

  Caught completely off guard, it took me a moment to respond. And when I did, it shocked me. I had never opened my mouth for a kiss, instead retaining that one piece of defiance during my entire time with Jonas. Jonas cared little; he didn’t even kiss me the first time he had taken me. He never once pressed his lips to mine. Neither did he care if others did. As soon as Shakhta’s lips touched mine though, I immediately allowed his tongue to caress mine. This was my first real kiss and it was hard, dominan
t, warm and passionate. It made my heart explode with emotions that I had never experienced before. Shakhta’s hands held my face, controlling the kiss, moving my head to the exact place he wanted it. My heart slammed hard in my chest and my hands grabbed hold of his bulging biceps hoping they would hold my suddenly weak legs. While my body responded appropriately to his kiss, a whimper of fear escaped me, causing Shakhta to abruptly pull away.

  The anger that radiated from him made my eyes widen slightly, but I didn’t shrink away. In the past such an action only led to pain. Without warning, he pulled his hands away and stormed out of the room. I was left standing in a confused daze as my fingers lightly traced the warmth that tingled on my lips. I immediately felt bereft and alone. My body moved towards the door automatically, ready to seek him out. I forced myself still though and just stood there, breathing hard, regaining my senses. I was quickly reminded of the fatigue which sat heavy on my shoulders and was finally tempted by the comfort of the bed behind me. I pulled off my clothes, and at the last minute remembered the letter tucked safely inside a Zip-Lock bag in the pocket. I pulled it out and climbed under the soft sheets. Carefully, I unfolded the note, and Shakhta’s neat handwriting lay before me.

  “My name is Emily Maree Donovan and I am not a possession, I am a person. I am not a toy to be played with, I am a living soul. I do not need a master because I have the strength to be my own master. I am to be treasured, loved and protected, and I will accept no less. I survived my captivity and I will continue to fight and survive until my life is my own once more.”

  I wanted to believe these words, I wanted to own them. They scared me though. They represented uncertainty, and they came with the possibility of heartache. I folded the note and tucked it under my pillow. With the knowledge that Shakhta was close by to keep me safe, I feel into a deep and restful sleep.