Raze & Reap (50 page)

I wasn't free. She was lying.

Talia sat back in surprise and abruptly, I moved. I could see the hurt etched in her face, but she was
lying
.…

“Zaal—” she spoke, and reached for my arm. I pulled it back with a snarl, giving her my back.

Anger ran through my veins, fire building in my stomach. Master was punishing me, I knew this. Giving me this female, getting her to make me believe I was free. I was being punished. He was punishing me for something. I just didn't know what I'd done wrong.

Getting to my feet, I walked back to my chains. The water with which Talia had cleansed me was still pooled on the dark hard surface.

I sat beside my chains, on the cold wet floor, my back against the wall. I kept my head down. Master would soon be here to punish me.

“Zaal?” Talia's voice questioned. She had quieted, her voice barely above a whisper.

My chest tightened as she called me that name.
Zaal.
A white-hot pain burst into my head on hearing the name Zaal. It took my breath away, causing me to rock back and forth. I pushed my hands against my eyes to stop the pain.

A hand pressed to my cheek and stayed there until the pain passed. I opened my eyes. Talia sat before me. She was looking at me with sadness in her eyes. A lump crawled up my throat and I rasped, “Why … why are … you … doing this … to me…?”

Her face scrunched in anguish and she sat back, her lips trembling. “Doing what?” she whispered. Her voice was shaky.

“This…” I told her, my hand over my aching chest. “You hurt … this.…” I tapped my finger over my heart. It felt bruised, cracked at her deception.

I'd trusted her.

She paused, her pretty face frozen until she glanced away, her lips pursing. “How?” she asked quietly. “How do I hurt your heart?”

“You … lie,” I replied. I watched her snap back to face me, seemingly in confusion. I picked up a chain, lifted it beside my arm and showed her the marks on my wrist. “I am not free.”

I didn't know how long I'd been in here, in this new cell, but I'd been chained. My wrists and ankles bled. Food had been thrown in a bag at my feet twice a day. I pissed in a bucket in the corner. Just like I did with Master.

“No,” Talia said. Her voice crackled. “You are free. Your captor isn't here.”

More pain pierced my chest as she continued to lie. “Chains,” I said. “I am not free. I am kept in chains, in darkness. I am not free…”

The dark cell went silent. Talia didn't say anything for a long time. Then she stood. I didn't look up. I knew she was leaving. But her feet didn't move.

“Zaal?” she called. “Take my hand.”

I shook my head. Still she didn't walk away. I felt her watching me. When I lifted my gaze, she was staring at me. Her hand had remained outstretched.

“Why?” I asked. “Why take your hand?”

A single tear ran down her cheek. “Freedom,” she replied. “I want to show you freedom.”

 

11

TALIA

You are … for me?

Even now as I held out my hand for him to take to get him out of this fucked-up torture cell of a basement, I couldn't shake those words from my mind. I couldn't remove the image of his face, looking up at me with such hope, such relief that I was his.

You are … for me?

In that moment I was every hope he'd had. I could see it; see it in those sea green eyes. He moved me. Completely moved something inside of me with those simple, earnest words.

He hadn't moved; he stared at my hand like it was a forbidden fruit he so badly wanted to savor. He was shattering my heart as, internally, he warred with himself. His conflicted eyes flitted from side to side; he wanted to believe me. He wanted to believe in me so badly, it shone like a desperate beacon in his green eyes.

I edged forward and pushed my hand closer to his. “Take my hand, Zaal. Let me show you the truth. Trust me, always trust me. I won't ever lie to you. I
promise
.”

He glanced down at the heavy chains spooled at his side, then back up to my face. He was frowning. An accepting expression passed across his face, which made me believe he
was
going to
trust me
. His hand lifted, but stopped in midair. His jaw and fist clenched simultaneously. Then he made my heart swell; he took a leap of faith and wrapped his big hand in mine.

We stayed there, suspended in our relative sitting and standing positions hands joined. After rolling to his feet, Zaal's huge frame towered over me. His hand still held mine, and by the tight grip, I knew he wouldn't let go. He was so fierce and untamed in his looks and demeanor. But his tight grip on my hand told me how fearful he was about the concept of his freedom … about putting his trust in me … when, in his tortured mind, I might lead him to nothing but more punishment and more pain.

He took a deep breath, and rasped, “I am weak. I feel weak.”

Sighing, I tipped my head to the side. “I know. But you're getting stronger. Each day, you're getting stronger again.”

Stroking my thumb over the back of his scarred hand, I watched his muscles tense. Our gazes met; something indescribable, palpable passed between us. I said, “Come with me.”

Zaal nodded, and I began leading him toward the staircase. When we reached the bottom step, he paused, then ground to a halt. I glanced back to his wary face; automatically I squeezed his hand.

He took a deep breath and once more he began to follow me, this time up the stairs. When we reached the top, I opened the door. Bright light immediately flooded the space. Zaal, as if blinded, stumbled backward, his back hitting the wall.

I whipped my head around to see him squinting, his free arm shielding the light from his face. He was panting like he'd just run a marathon, but his hand hadn't released mine. No, quite the opposite. It had become iron tight, verging on the point of being painful.

“Zaal?” I asked, and rushed to where he was hiding in the shadows. “What's wrong?” I continued.

I gently lowered the arm shielding his face. His eyes were blinking rapidly. He pointed to the ray of light illuminating the floor. “Light,” he rasped.

I frowned in confusion. “Light?” I questioned.

He nodded his head and swallowed hard. As I stared at his face a stark and devastating realization hit me. “You're never out when it's daylight?”

Zaal stared at the ray of light, dust particles dancing in its beam, and said, “I am always in darkness. Chained in the darkness. I kill only in darkness.”

I knew he'd been kept like an animal. But no name, head always bowed, punished until he lost his voice, and brought up in darkness since a child? Daylight-deprived? It cut me more deeply than any knife could possibly do. To have been kept out of the sun …

My thumb ran over his hand again. His jade green eyes met mine. “There's no need to fear the light. Let me show you.”

I could have sworn Zaal's heart beat so loud that I could hear it in our cocoon of silence. For a moment I didn't think he was going to leave the comfortable familiarity of the basement. Thank goodness, he found the courage to step forward, his feet moving as though testing new waters.

I walked through the door into the hallway. Zaal's impressive frame filled up every inch of the doorway. He looked down at the threshold between the basement and the hallway. I noticed a sheen of sweat glistening over his body.

He caught me watching and announced, “I have never walked out of my cell alone, free from my chains.”

Chasing away my building tears, I tightened my hold on his hand and assured, “You're not alone.” His eyes widened. I stepped closer, somehow instinctively knowing he needed me beside him.

Zaal took long deep breaths and brought our joined hands over his heart. “Talia,” he said on a relieved sigh in his strong Georgian accent, the sound bringing a wash of peace over me.

I waited until he took that first step. And with his hand iron tight in mine, he stepped over the threshold. Eyes searching, Zaal drank in the expanse of the hallway. His head flinched at the bright light and his eyes stayed narrowed. His bare chest rose and fell with what I presumed was adrenaline surging through his body.

I pulled Zaal further into the body of the house. Just as he seemed to let himself relax, the sound of the front door opening echoed off the wooden walls. Savin and Ilya walked through.

Zaal tensed.

My head whipped to my
byki
.

Savin and Ilya drew their Glocks.

“Guards,” Zaal snarled, pushing me back against the wall. His huge body blocked mine from Savin and Ilya. His body crouched in preparation for a strike.

“What the fuck?” Ilya cursed.

When Zaal heard Ilya speak, he tensed. All I could see was his back. Every muscle was braced for the fight. This was the Zaal that Luka had brought to the house weeks ago. This was the violent monster Jakhua had created. The stone-cold killer. The product of over-experimentation.

“Guards,” he snarled again.

“Zaal!” I called out. My voice seemed to have no impact on his rapidly rising anger.

“Talia. Are you hurt?” Savin asked.

“No! Don't hurt him!” I called from behind Zaal. “He thinks you're Jakhua's guards!”

I carefully moved to the side of Zaal and placed my hand on his back. He tensed and his crazed, still-blinking eyes darted to me. His face was flushed, and it was clear to me that the brightness of daylight was adding to his agitation.

He gripped my wrist and pulled me to his chest. His strong arm wrapped around my waist and he shouted, “Mine!” to Savin and Ilya. I saw Savin's face tighten in alarm. But hearing the protective, possessive word slip from Zaal's lips had my thighs clenching and my heart soaring.

I wasn't afraid.

“Miss,” Ilya warned, motioning for me to step away.

I held out my hand to my
byki,
and ordered, “Leave.” They stared at me like I'd gone insane. “Leave!” I shouted. Zaal's grasp on me became too tight. He was losing it. I could feel it in his shaking limbs and erratic breathing.

“What?” Ilya exclaimed. “We can't do that, miss. He could kill you!”

“You can. He's safe, but he thinks you're guards. The guards Jakhua employs. I've let him out because he's safe.” Ilya glanced back at Savin. “Please, leave…” I begged.

“Fuck!” Ilya snapped. Lowering his gun, he turned to face Savin. “Outside,” Ilya ordered, before looking back at me. “You have five minutes to explain who we are before we come back in. And if he comes at us again, I'll blow his fucking head clean off.”

When the door slammed shut, Zaal let out a frustrated growl and dragged me across the floor. He slammed me against the wall. His face was contorted in rage, his jade eyes lit with fire. “Guards,” he hissed. “Master's guards. You lied.…”

“No,” I whispered. His eyebrows twitched. “My guards,” I explained, then pushed, “They're
my
guards.”

Zaal stilled. A frown pulled on his red face. “Your guards?”

I nodded. Timidly lifting my hand, I pressed it against his cheek. As soon as my palm met his face, tension left his shoulders. I'd observed that when I did this, it soothed him. “You were freed from your Master weeks ago. You were brought here to safety.”

He blinked and searched my gaze. “To you.” My stomach flipped at the want in his eyes. He thought I was his safety. That he was brought here to me.

“No, Zaal.
For you
. You're free. Nobody owns you now.”

Lips parted, Zaal inhaled a shaky breath. “No Master?” he asked in bewilderment. I shook my head for emphasis.

His head lifted to look around the hallway. I could see the confusion racking his brain. “I'm free?” he asked again.

“Yes,” I whispered, my fingers stroking over his cheek. He let out a deep exhale and straightened. I watched with bated breath as he placed his hand on his arm, on the tens of scars, and then slid his fingers to the shackle wounds on his wrists and ankles.

I watched as those fingers traced the permanent red circular marks, and I watched as he lifted his head. Zaal met my eyes with unshed tears in his. “I am free.”

The sight of those tears dropping over his dark stubbled cheeks was my undoing. “Zaal,” I croaked through a thick throat.

I wanted to tell him who he was. Where he'd come from. I wanted him to tell me what had been done to him for years, for decades. I wanted to tell him what Jakhua did to his family. But he was, in many ways, just a child.

He couldn't understand. He was like a caveman, seeing the world for the first time.

I took his hand and, meeting his eyes, said, “Come with me.”

Zaal tightened his hand on mine. I led him from the hallway into the large living room. He stopped at the doorway. Zaal drank in the large area filled with plush furnishings, the large feature windows overlooking our beach.

He swallowed hard.

I began pulling him toward the kitchen. Zaal stopped dead as he looked at the appliances, the countertops. I watched him and tried to imagine what this was like—seeing everything for the first time.

I couldn't. I couldn't even begin to comprehend.

“This is where the food is prepared,” I said. I moved to the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

Zaal pressed his hand against his stomach. “I am always hungry,” he replied. “Master feeds me very little. I have to earn my food.”

I stared at him in silence. “How?” I whispered, unsure whether I really wanted to know the answer.

“Killing,” he said, as if it was an ordinary everyday activity.

I swallowed and stepped forward. “Do you kill a lot?”

Emphatically, he nodded his head. “It is all that I do.”

Blowing out through my mouth, I pointed to the fridge. But Zaal's attention kept drifting to the windows overlooking the beach. I leaned back against the fridge and watched his eyes try to interpret the scene.