Chapter 55 Chapter Fifty-four
ARA
The room spun, the walls tilted and my lungs forgot how to work.
Nadia’s words kept crashing against my skull like waves against a crumbling cliff.
The words swam in my head in painful strokes.
Stepsister. Rape. My mother.
Her father.
Every breath tasted metallic. My hands shook so hard I had to press them against my stomach to keep them still.
I felt the floor rising up to swallow me, felt the past I’d buried for years claw its way out of its grave and wrap its cold fingers around my throat.
Thayne’s eyes were on me. I could feel them burning holes through my skin, but I couldn’t look at him.
If I looked at him right now, I would break into a thousand pieces and never find them all again.
Nadia was crying, ugly, snotty sobs that filled the sterile room. The heart monitor screamed faster.
Nurses rushed in instantly, their voices sharp and urgent.
Someone said something about blood pressure, about calming down, about the baby.
I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn't wait to hear more. I turned and walked out. It was all too much.
The hallway blurred. The fluorescent lights smeared into white streaks.
My shoes clicked too loud, too fast. I didn’t know where I was going until the cold night air slapped my face in the parking lot.
I couldn’t breathe in that hospital. I couldn’t breathe near her. Did she know her father was a rapist?
She'd known all along we were stepsisters and didn't think twice about doing the things she did to me and my sisters?
Had it been truly just jealousy all along?
A strong hand closed around my wrist before I made it three steps.
“Ara.”
Thayne.
His voice was low. Rough. Desperate.
tried to pull away but he didn’t let me.
He'd made me endure an endless series of both physical and emotional attacks from Nadia.
And now he thought he could just make it all go away?
“Let go,” I whispered. My voice cracked like thin ice.
“No.” He stepped in front of me, blocking the wind, blocking everything.
“You don’t get to run. Not from this. Not from me.”
I laughed. It came out as a broken and wet sound. “You don’t understand. That woman in there, she’s the daughter of the man who, ” My throat closed. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say raped my mother out loud.
Not to him. Not ever.
Thayne’s face changed. Something fierce and protective flashed across it. He cupped my cheeks with both hands, forcing me to look at him.
“I heard every word,” he said quietly. “And I swear on my life, little lamb, none of this touches you anymore. Not her. Not him. Not what they did. You hear me?”
Tears rolled hot down my face. I hated crying in front of him. I hated that he saw me weak.
But his thumbs wiped the tears away, gentle, reverent, like I was something holy.
“I can’t think,” I choked out. “I can’t, I feel dirty. I feel like everything inside me is poisoned now.”
His jaw clenched. “Get in the car.”
I didn’t fight when he opened the door himself and lifted me into the passenger seat like I weighed nothing.
The drive back to the penthouse was silent except for my ragged breathing and the low growl of the engine.
I stared out the window, arms wrapped around myself, trying to hold all the broken pieces together.
The elevator ride up was worse. We stood side by side, not touching, the air thick enough to choke on.
I could feel him watching me. I could feel the storm building inside him, the one he was barely keeping leashed.
The second the doors slid open into the penthouse, I kicked off my heels and walked straight to the bedroom.
And straight into the redroom.
I needed to forget. Just for a little while. I needed him to burn everything out of me until there was nothing left but him.
I heard his footsteps behind me. Slow. Deliberate.
I didn’t turn around. I reached for the panel, pressed my palm to it. The door clicked open, red light spilling out like blood.
The Red Room.
Leather and steel and silk. Chains glinting from the ceiling. A St. Andrew’s cross in the corner. The massive bed draped in crimson sheets.
Every surface designed for pleasure and pain and surrender.
I stepped inside.
Thayne followed and shut the door with a soft, final click.
The lock engaged.
He didn’t speak. He just watched me, arms loose at his sides, chest rising and falling too fast.
I turned to face him. My fingers found the zipper of my dress. I pulled it down slowly, let the fabric slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet.
I stood in nothing but my black lingerie.
His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened to something feral.
“Make me forget,” I whispered, my voice breaking on the last word. “Please, Thayne. Make it all go away.”
He didn’t answer with words. He answered with hunger.
In one heartbeat he had me pinned against the wall, wrists captured high above my head in one of his huge hands.
His mouth took mine like he was starving, teeth scraping my lip, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch he could reach.
I kissed him back just as hard, biting, sucking, desperate for the taste of him to drown everything else.
He broke the kiss only to growl, “Safe word?”
“Lamb,” I panted.
“Good girl. Strip. Then kneel.”
My fingers shook, but I obeyed. My dress was already gone; now the bra and panties followed.
I dropped to my knees on the thick rug, thighs spread, back straight, with my eyes on the floor.
The position made me feel small and filthy and perfect.
Thayne circled me slowly, the way a predator studies prey he’s already decided to devour.
I heard the clink of metal, the slide of a drawer. My pulse thumped between my legs.
“Hands behind your back.”
Cold steel kissed my wrists, cuffs, lined with soft leather, but unforgiving.
He locked them tight, then clipped them together so my shoulders pulled back and my breasts thrust forward.
The position left me completely exposed.
He crouched in front of me, green eyes blazing.
“You want to forget? You know I'm not gentle, Ara. If you want to forget, them you must know I won’t be gentle or soft about it. I'm making you mine. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I breathed. “All yours. Use me.”
A dark smile curved his mouth. He stood, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness, letting me watch every inch of hard muscle appear.
When the shirt hit the floor, he unbuckled his belt. The sound alone made me clench.
He didn’t drop his trousers yet.
Instead he walked to the cabinet and came back with a thick black leather collar. My breath hitched as he buckled it around my throat, tight enough that every swallow reminded me who I belonged to.
A small silver ring glinted at the front.
He clipped a leash to it and gave one sharp tug. “Crawl.”
I crawled on knees and cuffed hands toward the bed, breasts swaying, my ass high in the air.
The leash kept tension on my throat, guiding me exactly where he wanted. When I reached the foot of the massive four-poster, he yanked me up by the collar and bent me over the edge.
My cheek pressed into cool silk; my cuffed wrists trapped beneath me.
“Stay.”
I heard him moving behind me, opening drawers, laying things out. My whole body trembled with anticipation.
First came the clamps. He rolled one nipple between his fingers until it stood hard and aching, then snapped the metal teeth closed.
I cried out at the sudden bite. He didn’t give me time to adjust, he fastened the second one just as ruthlessly.
A thin chain connected them, and when he tugged it I sobbed from the sharp, perfect pain that shot straight to my clit.
Next, something cold and slick pressed against my ass. Lube. Lots of it. He worked it in with slow, circling fingers until I was pushing back shamelessly, begging without words.
“Greedy girl,” he murmured. “You’ll take what I give you.”
A thick silicone plug breached me, stretching, burning, seating deep. The base nestled between my cheeks, and the fullness made me moan like a porn star.
He twisted it once, just to hear me whine, then stepped away.
I heard the click of a lighter.
Before my brain could figure out what it was for, hot wax hit the center of my back without warning.
I arched and screamed into the sheets. Another drop, lower, tracing my spine. He painted me in crimson streaks, each splash of heat making my pussy clench around nothing.
When he dripped it over the chain between my clamps, the sting dragged a broken, filthy plea from my throat.
“Please, Thayne. Fuck me now.” I begged, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
“Not yet.”