Knight (An Impossible Novel) (11 page)

Now he did smile, chuckling at me.  “I’m glad to see you have a sense of humor, sweetheart.  And I would invite you to come over here and see how you like it, but I wouldn’t dream of subjecting you to the full horror of it.”

“If you keep them in the fridge, they won’t sting so much,” I informed him.

He waved me back to my bacon imperiously.  “Thanks for the tip, but that’s enough mockery for now, thank you.  My ego is very fragile.”

I snorted.  I highly doubted that.  But I obediently returned to my task with a grin plastered across my face. 

About twenty minutes later, I slid two perfect omelets stuffed with crispy bacon, cheddar cheese, and sautéed onions onto plates for Master and me.  I watched him with rapt attention as he took his first bite.

“Holy shit, that’s fantastic.”  He smiled at me with pride.  “Okay, you’re responsible for cooking all meals from now on.”

“Yes, Master,” I agreed brightly, nearly bursting from the joy that swelled in my chest at his approval.

From now on.
 
He really was going to keep me.  Bliss thrummed through my veins at the thought.

After dinner, we settled back down on the couch.  I couldn’t smother my frown when Master opened his laptop.  He didn’t fail to notice it, and he reached over to squeeze my hand.

“I’m not going to do any more work today, sweetheart,” he reassured me.  “We need to order some clothes for you.  After you shower tonight, we’ll see if anything of mine will remotely fit you.  Amazon will do two-day delivery, so you won’t have to be stuck in my stuff for too long.”

“I don’t mind, Master,” I said.  In fact, I rather liked the idea of wearing one of his t-shirts.  His scent would cling to me.  No, I wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Well I do,” he said, frowning slightly.  “You need some things of your own.”  He opened up his web browser.  “What would you like to get?”

I shrugged. 
“What would you like, Master?”

His frown deepened as he studied me for a moment.  “I’ll get you some sweats and t-shirts for now.  But I want you to take the next two days to decide what you really want.  Don’t take my wishes into consideration.  I want you to pick out what you like.  Understood?”

I considered the daunting task he had set out for me.  He wanted me to choose for myself?  Without any rules or guidelines?

I swallowed hard and nodded my acquiescence.  He had given me two days.  Maybe I could ascertain what he would prefer in that time.

I was again shocked to realize that I was scheming ways to circumvent his orders.  I shook off the disturbing thought.  Master had indicated that he was going to keep me, and I wasn’t going to give him a reason to change his mind.

“Okay,” he said as he closed his laptop a few minutes later, his purchases completed.  “You should get a shower before bed, little one.”  He took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom.  “You can use my shower stuff.”  He gestured towards the singular large bottle of Old Spice that claimed to serve as shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.  I wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find Master’s toiletries to be minimalistic; he didn’t strike me as the sort of man who wasted time preening.

He adjusted the shower’s water temperature and retrieved a fluffy black towel from beneath the sink for me.  “Do you need anything else?”  He asked me, his eyes quickly perusing the small space to ensure that he had provided me with everything I needed.  I shook my head.  He was so good to me.  How could I possibly want for anything when he was by my side?

He pulled away from me, reaching for the doorknob.  My hands shot out to clutch at his arm. 

“Wait!”  Panic lanced through me at the prospect of being alone.  “I need you, Master.” 

I didn’t want him to leave me.  With his orders to guide me, I had been able to take care of myself on my own that morning.  But this was different.  I hadn’t showered by myself since Master had rescued me.  At the clinic, Susan had always stayed with me.  The prospect of being naked and alone was terrifying.

My heart sank when Master’s fingers closed around mine, carefully extricating himself from my grip.  His expression was hard, reproving.  “This is something that I can’t help you with, girl,” he told me firmly.  “Get yourself cleaned up.  When you’re done showering, cover yourself with the towel.  Then we’ll see what we can find for you to wear to bed.”

I bit my lower lip hard to hold back the desperate protests that were fighting to bubble forth.  My head bowed, demonstrating my compliance with his wishes.  The sound of the door clicking shut behind him made me flinch.

“Get yourself cleaned up.”

Master had given me an order.  I tried to focus on him, to give myself over to his will completely and quiet my resistant mind.  Still, I couldn’t stop my fingers from trembling as I gripped the hem of my camisole and slowly pulled it up over my torso.  I paused when the cottony material bunched beneath my breasts.

Naked and alone in the dark.

Cold flashed across my skin.  I gritted my teeth and shoved back the memories of my horrific past.  I wasn’t in my prison any longer.  That Bastard couldn’t hurt me anymore.  He couldn’t use me.  I ripped the camisole over my head in a flash of defiance.  The ghostly paleness of my skin reflected in the mirror over the sink, catching my eye.

It was the first time I had really looked at myself.  And I looked…
wrong,
 

My skin was supposed to be tanned.  I hated when I got this pale.  My hair was a wild, untamed mass of brunette waves that swirled down to cover my breasts.  I brushed my fingertips against the rough untidiness of my split ends, and I grimaced.  I loved my hair, and I never let it get so out of sorts.

As I regretfully touched the ragged strands, my gaze fell on my wrist.

A jolt of horror shocked through me when I took in the purple, slightly raised scar that ringed it.  Trembling, I raised my other wrist to inspect it, only to find it identically marred.  I took a step back, my stomach churning as I examined the way my skin rippled across my defined ribs at the movement.  Another purple scar wrapped around the left side of my ribcage.  Hardly breathing, I twisted my body so my back was reflected in the mirror.

It was a mess of crisscrossing, darkened lines.  Some of them disappeared below the upper edge of my sweatpants.  Incapable of wrenching my eyes from the horror, I shoved the pants down my legs.  The terrible marks covered my bottom, extending down to my thighs.

The snap of the bullwhip.
  Blood running down my legs.  My back flayed.

I screamed and I cried and I begged, but they wouldn’t stop.

“Are you alright in there, sweetheart?”  Master’s deep voice floated through the closed door, cutting through the choking memories.

Master had ordered me to take a shower.

I had to focus on him.  I tried desperately to clear my mind of everything but his order.

“Get yourself cleaned up.”

But it wasn’t enough.  Without Master’s physical presence to ground me, I was helpless to stop myself from being sucked under.  The darkness of my prison closed in around me.

My former Master’s lips were twisted in a savage, satisfied grin as he swiped his hand across my chest, smearing his hot seed that he had spilled across my breasts.

“Get cleaned up, you dirty whore.”

The remembered heat of his disgusting mark burned into me, sinking through my skin, searing through my lungs to char my heart.  I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, desperate to hold my scorched flesh together.  While fire consumed my chest, ice encased the rest of my body, the freeze searing me just as cruelly as the blaze.

A rough, masculine hand touched my shoulder, and a scream ripped its way up my throat as I jerked back.  My foot slipped on the slick tile, sending me sprawling.  I braced for the bruising impact with the hard floor, but the man’s hands caught me around the waist.  My body was pulled up against a hard chest.  I struggled against his iron hold, but my feral efforts were useless.

I sobbed.  God, he was so strong.  I wouldn’t be able to stop him from using me, from hurting me.  But I couldn’t stop fighting.  The days of hollowly accepting abuse were over.  Even though I was powerless against him, I wouldn’t meekly comply with his horrific demands any longer.

“Open your eyes, girl.  Look at me.”  Master’s harsh demand penetrated my panic with exquisite, brutal efficiency.

I realized I was inflicting the darkness of my dungeon upon myself.  My eyes snapped open with eager obedience, searching for his glinting silvery gaze.

“Master.”  His title was a ragged whisper as tears of relief burned twin streams down my cheeks.  I stopped fighting; I pressed against him so closely that my body was molded to his.

Keeping one arm firmly around my back, his other hand cupped my cheek, his thumb hooking under my jaw to tilt my face up to his. 
His intense stare, authoritative yet compassionate, rolled over and through me like a soothing balm, smothering the pain that had gripped my entire being. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart.”  His reassurance was firm, demanding that I believe him.  “I’ve got you.”

I melted into him as I allowed his control to take hold of me, to enthrall my mind so that there was no room for my torturous memories.

“What happened?”  He asked.  His tone was gentle, but his eyes brooked no resistance.

“I…”  I heaved in a shuddering breath, wrestling back my remaining fear.  “The scars.”  Those two words were all I could manage.  I refused to revisit the horrors that had overcome me, to give voice to what had been done to me.

No.  Not to me.  That abused slave wasn’t
me.
  Not anymore.  Not now that I was in Master’s care.  I touched my fingers to my neck, reassuring myself that my iron collar no longer encircled it.  No, I didn’t belong to that Bastard anymore.

The lines of Master’s gorgeous face were taut as he grasped my hand, pulling it away from my neck and placing it on his chest.  His heartbeat was strong and even beneath my palm, the regular rhythm calming me.

“You’re mine now, little one.”  The ferocious, possessive edge to his voice made me quiver delightedly.  “That Bastard can’t hurt you anymore.”

More tears welled up as joy soared through me.

“You’re mine now.”

His.

It was the first time Master had voiced his ownership.

“Thank you, Master.”  Again, the words were laughably insufficient to express the depth of my gratitude.  I pressed my cheek against his chest in an attempt to physically demonstrate my devotion.  A pleasurable sigh escaped me at the sensation of his heartbeat reverberating through me, my own heart slowing its frantic palpitations to match his even rhythm.  His hand closed around the nape of my neck, holding me to him as his fingers stroked up and down my back, his
touch seeming to erase the horror of my scars with every swipe of his palm across my damaged skin.

After a while, he pulled back from me slightly.

“Let’s get you in the shower before the water goes cold,” he said gently.

Anxiety instantly gripped me.  I couldn’t allow him to leave me again; I couldn’t be left alone, naked and vulnerable to my dark memories.

Master read my expression before I could even begin to voice my protests.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.  I’m not going to leave you alone again.”

He guided me towards the shower, opening the glass door and encouraging me to step in with his hand on the small of my back.  Once I was situated under the warm spray, he drew away from me, moving to close the door, to shut me in by myself.

I couldn’t bite back my whine of distress.  I was still deeply shaken by the sight of my scarred body, and even having his visage obscured by the frosted glass was too much for me to handle.  I needed him to stay close, to keep me grounded in the present.

He studied me, his eyes clouded with uncertainty.  After a moment, he blew out a long breath, the lines of his face heavy with resignation.  He kicked off his shoes and then stepped into the cubicle with me, fully dressed.

“Just this once,” he muttered.  I wasn’t sure if his words were meant for me or for himself.  If they were meant for me, I chose to disregard them.  I wouldn’t even contemplate a time when I might have to be without him.  I would figure out a way to keep him close.

He popped open the cap on the shampoo bottle and squeezed a liberal amount into his hand.  The fresh, clean scent engulfed me as he worked it into my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp.  A small moan slipped out with my pleased sigh, and I gripped his hips to steady myself.  His eyes flashed and his lips thinned, but his strained expression wasn’t one of anger.  I understood that now.  He desired me.  A small, triumphant smile played around my lips.

“You’re
mine now.”

I craved to touch him, to run my fingers over every sculpted inch of him; to worship him.  I ruthlessly suppressed the urge.

“You are not allowed to do anything for me that is sexual.”

I would have to wait until he chose to initiate our intimate contact.  But I was confident now that it was just a matter of time.  Heat flared between my legs as his hands began to rove over my body, sliding against my skin as he washed me.  When he reached my chest, he was
careful to avoid touching my breasts directly.  But as his fingertips brushed just below the lower swell of them, I gasped as pleasure jolted through me, making my sex pulse.  His gaze was suddenly riveted to my chest, and my eyes followed his to find that my nipples had tightened to firm peaks.  My body was awakening for him in a way that was utterly foreign to me.  But I wasn’t frightened by it.  It was only right that my body would crave to serve Master in a way that it never had welcomed that Bastard.