Page 56 of Beloved Sacrifice

Rose had one arm across her middle. Her pants were shredded from ankle to above the knee. Both the remains of the pants and her shirt were dirty and wrinkled. Her hair was mussed, her shoulders bowed.

Yet, she was beautiful. She always had been, and she always would be.

He stopped a few steps up from the bottom and slid his right hand back, looking between Rose and Marek.

“Rose, are you okay?”

She sighed and turned away from the steps. “What do you think, Weston?” Her voice was a bit scratchy.

What the hell had Marek done to her?

“Come here, Rose.” The words were tense and harsh from fear. Goddamn it, had he locked her down here with a monster?

Rose jumped as if she’d been shocked. She put her weight on the balls of her bare feet and turned in a smooth, almost poetic motion. Her hair swung forward to brush her right cheek as she lowered her chin.

Marek stepped between them, facing Weston. “You shouldn’t speak to her that way.” His hands were on his hips, his body blocking Rose’s path.

Weston pulled the gun and pointed it at Marek. “Move.”

Marek met his gaze. The other man had dark eyes and a handsome face that boasted the best features from several ethnicities. No missing eyes, no badly healed bones or melted skin. Marek looked like a hero—good-looking, calm, apparently bulletproof.

Weston had once imagined himself as the hero. Her hero.

“Rose, take three steps to your right.” That would put her out of the line of fire, and keep her in his field of vision.

Rose turned and took three precise steps to the right. Marek turned to watch her. His jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t speak to her that way.”

Weston came down another step, keeping the gun trained on Marek’s center body mass. Marek held his ground. Weston came down another step, tossed the bag of food off to the side so it wouldn’t be in the way. He wanted to maintain the distance between them. His bad leg and missing eye made him weak in hand to hand. Hence the gun.

“Take a step back, Mr. Lee.” Weston let his frustration and anger deepen his voice.

Rose made a soft sound of distress…

…and dropped to her knees.

Weston grimaced. Shit, he hadn’t meant for her to react like that, but it probably made sense. After all, she’d been in a devoted D/s relationship with his brother. Caden must have known how to touch her, master her, without scaring her the way he had. A lifetime of D/s probably made her sensitive to commands.

When he’d first run across information about Rose being a member of Las Palmas, an exclusive BDSM club in L.A., he’d been shocked, sure it was a mistake. But the evidence was all there. Rose was…had been…Caden’s submissive. Her introduction to the lifestyle had been horrific, but for his brother, she’d embraced it.

“Fine,” he muttered, irritated and a little heartsick. “Rose,” he commanded, deepening his voice. Elroy had called it “Dom voice” but in reality, the deep-voiced tone of command was taught and used by law enforcement and the military, too. “Stand up, come here.”

She started to rise, first positioning her feet so her toes were braced against the floor, then using only her leg muscles to rise. She wavered, as if she were having trouble maintaining her balance.

Marek raced over to her.

Weston cursed, sliding his finger from the trigger guard onto the trigger, but Marek had moved fast. He was too close to Rose for Weston to risk taking the shot.

Marek slid between them, presenting Weston with his back. He cupped Rose’s elbows and help her rise.

“Rose,” Marek’s voice was soft. Weston could barely hear him. “You don’t have to obey him. I want you to take a deep breath, and, when you’re ready, open your eyes. No one owns you. No one controls you.”

Weston’s hand started to shake with rage. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

“Rose—”

Marek turned, took two massive, loping strides, and smashed into Weston.

It was a full-body tackle. Marek’s shoulder plowed into his chest. Weston’s back hit the wood railing of the stairs. It held for a moment, but then their combined weight buckled the old wooden structure. Weston felt himself start to fall. If he went down under Marek, he’d be in trouble. He twisted his upper body as he fell, taking the hit on his left shoulder with a teeth-rattling thud. Marek landed beside him, which gave him a fighting chance.

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