Knight (An Impossible Novel) (9 page)

His eyes sharpened as he turned his attention back to Clayton and Reed.  “Did you find anything at St. Paul’s?”

Clayton’s expression
tightened, and he shook his head.  “Nothing so far.  The guy’s good, Smith.  And someone’s helping him.  There’s nothing on the security cameras.  Someone looped the feed just minutes before he went into the building, so we don’t have any footage that we can plug into facial recognition.  It’s unlikely he was able to do that by himself and get into Jane’s room when he did.  He – and whoever his accomplice is – must have been watching the live surveillance feed so he could act as soon as Jane was left alone.  It’s the only way to explain how he got in at just the right time to find Jane on her own.”

“Can you trace whoever hacked the feed?”  Master asked, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he ground out the question.

“We’re working on it,” Reed said, “but this guy is good.  It’s federal level tech he’s using.”

“What about the lead we were working last night? 
The witness from Decadence who recognized the sketch.  Has his information gotten us anywhere?”

“No,” Clayton responded, a trace of bitterness in the word.  “Turns out it was a dead end.  The guy was just bullshitting to try to get out of the possession charges he’s facing.  He didn’t know anything.”  His bright blue eyes shifted to me.  “We were hoping to get some information that might lead us to his accomplice.  Did you ever see anyone else while you were being held captive, Jane?  Did the man who imprisoned you ever mention a friend?”

The Mentor.

I had first met him on the day that I broke.

Blood running down my thighs as the whip slashed across my back.  The two men using my broken body.

Master’s arm was around my shoulder, his fingers under my chin.  He lifted my face up to his, and I clung to the sight of him like a lifeline.

“Stay here with me, girl,” he ordered.

I drew in a deep, shuddering breath.  I would obey him.  I would be good.

“Answer Clayton’s question.”  He spoke gently, but it was an order nonetheless.  I preferred it that way.  If it was an order, then it was something I had to do.  Master would guide me through it.  Clayton was kind in the way he requested information, but my dark memories threatened to suck me under if I was left on my own.  My own will wasn’t strong enough to overcome the terror of my past, but Master’s will was.

“Yes,” I breathed, staring resolutely up into Master’s eyes.  “There was another man.”

“Do you know his name?”  Clayton asked.

I shook my head.  He didn’t have a name.  He didn’t even have a face.

“Keep your eyes closed, whore.  If you look at me, I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”

I couldn’t suppress my shudder at the memory.

“He was just the Mentor,” I whispered.  “I didn’t know his name.”

“‘The Mentor’?”
  Reed asked, puzzled.  “Is that what he called himself?”

I shook my head again.  “No.  That’s just how I thought of him.  Ma- that Bastard called him ‘Sir.’”

Master’s brow furrowed.  “Why did you think of him that way, girl?”  He asked.  “Why ‘the Mentor’?”

I flinched as my skin crawled with remembered agony.  Master waited, his hand squeezing my upper arm gently in encouragement.

“He…”  I swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat.  “He taught that Bastard how to hurt me.  How to break me.” 

My mind shied away from that.  It brought me far too close to brushing against the woman I used to be before I had become a slave.  I touched my fingers to my throat, half-expecting to find the cool weight of my iron collar.

Master’s handsome face was twisted into a furious mask.  Once, I might have recoiled from that fierce expression, but now I understood that it wasn’t directed at me.

“Can you tell us what he looked like, Jane?”  Clayton asked.  “We can get you to talk to a sketch artist again.”

“I don’t know,” I replied softly, my voice strained.  Nothing I said was of any use to them.  I didn’t know anything important.  All I knew was pain and abuse.  I had no knowledge of anything else.  “I’m sorry.  He told me he would blind me if I looked at him.”

Despite Master’s warm presence, a pervasive cold had pulsed to life in my bones, emanating out through my muscles to make my flesh pebble.  A fine tremor raced across my skin, and a moment of tense silence passed as the men absorbed my gruesome explanation.

When Clayton finally spoke again, his voice was tight with suppressed anger.  “Okay.”  He took a deep breath.  “That’s okay, Jane.”  His tone resumed most of its usual cool surety.  “Can you tell us what happened last night?”

Last night.

Spilled coffee mingling with blood.

Oh, god.

“Is Susan okay?”  I asked quickly, my voice high with panic.  I had been so determined to avoid the dark memories that I had forgotten about Susan.

“She’s going to be fine,” Clayton reassured me.  “She has a concussion, but she’ll make a full recovery.  But she doesn’t remember what happened last night.  I need you to tell me.  Can you do that for me, Jane?”

Yes.  I could do that.  Master had ordered me to answer Clayton’s questions.

“Susan left to get coffee,” I began quietly.

I was waiting for Master to return to me.  I was so anxious without him there to watch over me.

And I had been right to be afraid.  I wasn’t safe without Master by my side.

“She hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when he came.  I tried to fight him.  He hit me.”

“You thought you could run from
me?”

I wanted to bury
the memory, but I closed my eyes, forcing myself to recall every detail.  “He was wearing blue scrubs.  When Susan came back and saw him, she thought he was an orderly.  I begged him not to hurt her, and she realized who he was.  She hit the nurse call button so help would come.  I tried to hold him back, but he hit her.  He realized people were coming, so he decided to leave me.”

“This cunt is mine.  You’ll always belong to me.”

“He said he would come back for me.  He said I belonged to him,” I finished in a whisper.

I touched my fingertips to my neck again, but Master caught my hand in his.  I blinked and stared up into his eyes.  They burned with possessive fury.

“You don’t belong to him,” he told me firmly.  “He will never touch you again.”

I knew I shouldn’t contradict him, but fear of that Bastard overwhelmed my fear of displeasing my Master.  I had to make him understand how important it was that I remain with him at all times.

“That’s what you said before,” I reminded him, my voice small.

Master frowned, and I held my breath, worried I had pushed too far.

“You’re right.  I did say that,” he admitted.  “I won’t leave you again, little one.  Not until we’ve found him.”

“Smith,” Clayton’s voice was cautious as he addressed his friend.  “You know that’s not practical.  We need to get Jane to a safe house, and you need to be at work helping us track this guy down.”

Master’s arms tightened around me.  “She’s not going to a safe house,” he said firmly.  “If that Bastard can get into the clinic when we had her under twenty-four hour surveillance, then I’m not trusting her safety to anyone but me.  As of now, I’m taking my vacation days.  I believe you’ll find I have about twelve weeks stored up.”

Clayton’s brows rose in surprise.  “You don’t want to help us find the guy?”  He asked incredulously.

“I’ll do the desk jockey shit,” Master said.  “Just send me paperwork, and I’ll do it.  Miller can work in the field with you.”

Clayton frowned at Master.  “You suck at being a desk jockey.”

“Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing it,” Master fired back.

Clayton was more direct this time.  “I don’t think this is a good idea, James.  It really isn’t appropriate for Jane to be alone with you.”

Master’s expression darkened.  “What are you insinuating, Vaughn?”  He asked, his voice low and dangerous.  “That I’ll do something
inappropriate?
  How could you even think-?”

“Of course I don’t think that,” Clayton cut him off firmly.  “But this is totally against protocol.”

Master raised a brow at his friend.  “And when have you ever known me to give a shit about the rules?”

The lines of Clayton’s handsome face hardened.  “This is different, James.  And you know it.”

“Of course she’s different,” Master said hotly.  “That’s why we brought in Miller.  That’s why we’re the ones taking care of this.  That’s why I’m taking care of her.”

Reed seemed to have been deferring to the two senior agents, but at the mention of his name, he chimed into the heated conversation.  “Why don’t we ask Jane what she wants?”  He suggested levelly.

“I want to stay here with him,” I said in a rush, relieved someone had decided to include me in the decision.  I couldn’t bring myself to refer to Master as “Smith,” so I clutched his hand firmly to communicate just who I meant when I said
him.
  I wanted to gauge Master’s reaction to my vehement outburst, but all of my attention was focused on Clayton as I stared at him imploringly.  He couldn’t make me leave.  I couldn’t allow him to convince Master to give me up.

Clayton’s keen blue eyes studied me for a moment, his uncertainty plain on his face.  “The idea of being alone with a man doesn’t bother you?”  He asked gently.

“No!”  I insisted quickly.  “I know he wouldn’t hurt me.  He’ll keep me safe.  Please don’t make me leave.”  My desperation was starkly evident.

Clayton’s eyes roved over my strained features once more, and he sighed.  “If that’s what you want, Jane, then you can stay.”  His gaze shifted sharply back to Master.  “But if I’m going to smooth this over for you at the Bureau, I’m going to need you to promise me
that you’ll keep me in the loop about how she’s doing, James.”

Master nodded curtly. 
“Of course.  I’ll be in touch every day to check on the investigation anyway.”  The tense stance he had been holding finally eased.  “Thanks, Clayton,” he said earnestly.  “Thanks for putting up with my shit.”

Clayton shrugged, his easy smile returning.  “It’s no different than any other day.”

Master inclined his head ever so slightly, allowing that.  Then he jerked his chin in the direction of the door.  “Now you can get the fuck out.  I believe you have a shit-ton of work to get on with.”  His words were harsh, but his tone was light, and he was smiling slightly at his friend.

“Yes, we do.  And I’ll be sure to send you the most boring, tedious bits of it.  After all, you did volunteer for the position of paperwork bitch.”

Master growled, but there was no real menace in it.  “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

I noticed that Reed’s smile was slightly forced as he observed the men’s banter, and he shifted uncomfortably.  It was obvious he didn’t feel like he was part of the boys’ club yet, and the deferential position that placed him in didn’t suit him.  Although he hadn’t spoken enough for me to get a strong read on his personality, I liked the idea that he was helping Master and Clayton protect me.  The men’s powerful personalities might cause them to clash with one another, but they had each made it clear that my well-being was their priority.  I could scarcely believe this was real.  I don’t think I could have believed it was real if it weren’t for the visceral effect of Master’s skin touching mine.

“Thank you,” I said abruptly, before the men could leave.  In the past, I would have used my body to demonstrate my gratitude, but Master had ordered me not to do that.  He had commanded for me to say “thank you” when I was grateful.  I much preferred it to degrading myself.

Clayton and Reed paused where they had half-turned to leave.

“You don’t have to thank us, Jane,” Clayton said kindly.

Once the two men left, I allowed myself to melt against Master as relief washed over me.  I no longer had to pretend he wasn’t my Master, and the lingering threat that Clayton might take me from him had been eliminated.

Master stood beside me where I sat on the stool, allowing me to press my face against his hard chest as he stroked my hair.

“That was very good, sweetheart,” he told me approvingly.  “I know talking about what happened to you was difficult.  You were very brave.”

I snuggled into him more closely, glowing at the praise.  “Thank you, Master.”

The taste of his title was sweet on my tongue.

Chapter 8

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to offer you, sweetheart,” Master said apologetically as he placed the warm Toaster Strudel in front of me.  “I’ll order some groceries online later.”

I glanced down at the plate in front of me and then back up at Master.  It would be wrong of me to take this when he had nothing for himself.  I pushed the plate towards him.

Master frowned slightly and pushed it right back at me.  “Eat.”

“But you don’t have anything, Master,” I protested, trying to communicate how wrong it would be for me to take the food.  My purpose was to make him happy, and he wasn’t allowing me to do that by making him go hungry.

His expression was suddenly cool and remote, a single brow arched.  His arms folded across his chest, and his already large body seemed to take up more space than usual.  “I believe I gave you an order, girl,” he said evenly.

I took in a sharp breath, horrified by what I had done.  Although I only had service in mind, I had defied him.  Balancing the new freedom of thought and speech that he had granted me with being a good slave was proving difficult.

Anxious to make it up to him, my hand darted out for the pastry.  Steam rose from it, and the hot crust burned my fingertips.  I winced slightly, but I wasn’t about to set it back down.  I started to lift it to my lips, bracing for the burn of the hot filling on my tongue and throat.  That discomfort didn’t matter.  I had to rectify my mistake.

“Wait.”  I froze at the singular authoritative word, holding the pastry just inches from my mouth.

Master reached out and plucked it from my fingers.  He let out a soft curse and flung it back down on the plate, sucking his overheated fingertips into his mouth.  I suddenly longed for him to use my mouth to soothe the burn, to penetrate my lips with his long fingers, instructing me to lick and suck at him in the way he would like for me to taste his cock.

He had done so much for me.  He had freed me from my agony and protected me.  It seemed that his sole desire was to take care of me.  All he asked for in return was my obedience, but obedience wasn’t sufficient for expressing my gratitude towards him.  I wanted to demonstrate how much I worshipped him.  And the only way I knew how to do that was by using my body.

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

But he had given me that order days ago, when he wouldn’t even allow me to acknowledge him as my Master.  Now that he had fully asserted his ownership, that particular rule might have changed.

He tore off a corner of the pastry, holding it gingerly between his fingers as he blew air over it in order to cool it.  When he was satisfied, he lifted it to my lips.

“Open.”

I obeyed eagerly, welcoming him in.  He popped the warm pastry into my waiting mouth, but some of the gooey filling had dripped onto his forefinger.  Before he could draw back, I touched my tongue to his skin, savoring the unique flavor of his flesh even more so than the intense sweetness of the strawberry jam.  He paused, his eyes darkening as I boldly closed my lips around the tip of his finger, sucking it clean.

His jaw clenched, and he abruptly jerked his hand back.  For a moment, I feared he would rebuke me, but he just pushed the plate toward me again.

“Eat.”

I suppressed a small sigh.  It didn’t seem Master would be feeding me my breakfast after all.  Although he hadn’t reprimanded me for my suggestive action, he hadn’t invited more either.  I decided not to push him further, but hope blossomed within me that he might accept me soon.  I craved for him to claim me.  I was utterly devoted to him, and I wanted to bind him to me as tightly as possible.  If he wouldn’t allow me to give him all of myself, then he wouldn’t realize just how much I could please him.  He wouldn’t realize just how much he needed me.

I lowered my eyes, pulling my gaze away from his enigmatic expression as I focused on complying with his command. 

“Eat.”

Allowing the one simple order to consume my attention was a welcome reprieve from the frankly jarring autonomous thoughts that were spinning in my mind.  Touching Reed and standing up for myself when Clayton tried to take me away had been exhausting enough, but actively scheming to test Master’s order for me not to touch him sexually was especially taxing.  I could hardly believe that I was daring to entertain such thoughts.  My obedience to him was everything.

But perhaps that wasn’t true.  Ensuring he kept me was everything, and I was willing to do whatever I had to do to secure him as my Master. 
Even if that meant testing his authority.

“Eat.”

Using his command to focus me, I quieted my disturbing thoughts.  I went on autopilot, allowing Master’s will to become my own as I mechanically ate the food he had provided for me.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him frowning slightly, but I didn’t allow myself to contemplate what that meant.  If he was displeased with me, then all I could do to change his feelings was comply with his order.

When I was finished, I lowered my hands to my lap, keeping my eyes downcast.  My heart leapt into my throat when his fingers closed around mine, gently tugging me forward.  I stepped down off the barstool, submissively avoiding his gaze as I followed docilely where he led.

He seated himself on the black leather couch in his living room.  Automatically, my knees folded, the plush carpet cushioning the impact with the floor as I knelt beside him.  My hands clasped behind me at the small of my back, and my thighs parted.  His fingertips touched the top of my head, accepting my submission.  I drew in a deep, even breath, utterly satisfied with his control.  Things were so much easier this way.

His hand jerked back abruptly, and the leather of the sofa creaked as he shifted his weight away from me.  A small whine escaped me at the loss of the heat of him, his rejection causing panic to spike in my chest.  My arms jerked as I was tempted to clutch him to me.  My fingers knotted, locking my hands together behind my back so I couldn’t break from my proper position.

“Get up off your knees, sweetheart,” Master ordered, his voice strained.  “Sit on the couch beside me.”

Beside him?

That couldn’t be right.  I wasn’t his equal.  My place was at his feet.  I caught my lower lip between my teeth, uncertain.

“That’s an order, girl.”  His tone was deep and authoritative this time. 

I reacted instantly, again awash with horror that I had dared to defy him.  I perched on the edge of the couch, my back ramrod straight as I kept my gaze trained on the carpet.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I gasped out.  “I didn’t mean to -
”  I swallowed hard.  My intentions didn’t matter.  “I’ll be better.  I’ll be good.  I promise.”

Master sighed heavily.  I wanted to sob from the intensity of my relief when he closed the distance between us, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me up against him.  He touched his fingers to my cheek, turning my face so I was forced to look up into his eyes.  Their quicksilver light was liquid comfort, flowing through my flesh and over my mind, calming me.  I drew in a shuddering breath as he absently traced the line of my jaw.

“You’ve been very good today, little one,” he assured me firmly.  “I’m not angry.  It’s my job to take care of you, but I can’t do that if you don’t follow my rules.  Whatever you were taught before -”  His jaw clenched as he cut himself off.  “Everything I ask of you is meant to help you.  I will never hurt you, sweetheart, but I won’t allow you to degrade yourself for me.  Understood?”

Something about the order made my heart twist.  He wouldn’t allow me to properly demonstrate my devotion. 
But it was an order, and I wasn’t about to defy him for a third time in one morning.

“Yes, Master,” I said, my voice small.  “I understand.”

“Good girl.”  He planted a tender kiss in the center of my forehead.  The warmth that flooded me at the intimate act helped to allay the disappointment that had gripped me.

“What would
you like to do today, sweetheart?”  He asked kindly.

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” I said automatically.  There was no other acceptable answer.

My heart sank when he frowned.  I hated the downward twist of his full lips.  I only ever wanted him to be perfectly happy with me, but I couldn’t seem to get it right.  The moment of silence seemed to stretch on for excruciating minutes as his disapproval made all of my muscles go taut with the strain of my distress.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I apologized desperately.  “I don’t know… Please tell me what you want.”

He touched his forefinger to my lips, silencing me.  His expression had softened, but his eyes were studying me carefully, penetrating more than just skin-deep.

“I think we should establish more ground rules,” he said finally.  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me, and I think having guidelines for your behavior will help with that.”

“Yes, Master,” I agreed quickly.  I had already made so many mistakes since he had taken me into his home.  If he told me what was acceptable, then I would know how to avoid his disapproval.  I wanted that more than anything.

“Firstly,” he began, “You can speak to me freely at any time, and you are to look me in the eye when we are talking.”  His tone was business-like as his steady stare fixed me in place, impressing his authority upon me.  “You are to use the bathroom at any time you want.  You don’t need my permission.  You will tell me if you are hungry.  In fact, I’ll make a schedule of when you will eat and how many calories you will consume every day.”  He paused to brush his thumb across my pronounced cheekbone.  “I need you to put on some weight.  You’ll exercise
every day.  I’ll make a schedule for that too.  You’re gorgeous, sweetheart, but we need to get you healthy.”

I flushed pleasurably at the compliment.  “Master is kind to say that,” I said softly.

“I said it because I mean it,” he said firmly.  “I will never lie to you, little one.  And I expect complete honesty from you as well.  You will always tell me if you want something that I’m not giving you.  I want to look after you, but I’m not a mind reader.  It’s your job to communicate your needs to me.  Can you do that for me?”

It was a rhetorical question.  Of course I would obey his rules.

Speak freely, and look Master in the eye.

Don’t ask for permission to use the bathroom.

Eat what you’re told, when you’re told.

Exercise when you’re told.

Don’t lie to Master.

Tell Master when you need something.

The rules weren’t difficult, and having them in place was immensely comforting.  Now that I knew what was expected of me, I knew how best to please Master.  The only rule I didn’t care for was the one that was already in place.

Don’t touch Master sexually.

I tamped down my rebellious thoughts as schemes for circumventing this rule began stirring in the depths of my mind.  My compliance with his other commands would have to be sufficient for binding him to me, for ensuring him of my complete devotion.

“So, what do you want to do today, little one?”  He asked again.  I hesitated, still unsure of what to say.  “I ordered you to tell me what you want,” he reminded me sternly.

“I…  I’m not sure,” I admitted.  The concept of having choices was baffling.  I couldn’t even begin to think up a desirable activity.

I want you to hold me, Master.

But I didn’t dare say that.  I didn’t want him to think I was trying to manipulate him into bending his cardinal rule.  Which, if I was honest with myself, would be my exact intention if I did give voice to that particular desire.

“Okay,” he said gently.  “That’s okay.  How about we put on a movie while I order some food online and check my emails.”

I nodded eagerly.  It was a suggestion, but the cadence of his voice let me know it wasn’t really a question.  The definitiveness was reassuring.

He reached for the remote that rested on his glass-and-wrought-iron coffee table.  It was the only object on the table.  There were no books or magazines with attractive pictures.  I was again struck by the starkness of his home.  But his hard body beside me and his reassuring scent were more than sufficient to fill the space with comforting warmth.

He pressed a few buttons on the remote, and sharply defined images appeared on the huge flat-screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the couch.  He accessed Netflix and began scrolling through genre options.

“Do you like romantic comedies?”  He asked.

I shrugged.  I wasn’t sure.  I didn’t have any memories of movies.  All I knew was my new life with Master and the darkness that had come before him.  Firmly suppressing those memories, I snuggled into him more closely, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I guess we’ll find out, then,” he said, selecting the first option that was sorted by popularity.

As cheerful music blared to life and beautiful people appeared on the screen, Master pulled his laptop from its case where it rested against the couch.  Settling it on his lap, he proceeded to order groceries online.  I didn’t pay attention to the movie or his food selections; all of my focus honed on his large hands, his long fingers darting deftly across the keys.  I wished they were roving over my flesh rather than the keyboard.  I was addicted to his touch, craved the reassurance of his innate strength.