Page 27 of Broken Surrender
A dull pain swirled inside me. Perhaps I had done something similar to her too. Was I number three?
No. That wasn’t the case. I had never given her false promises. She knew exactly what was going to happen. And she had agreed. It might have been an offer that was difficult to refuse, but it was still a choice: Deal with your consequences for killing your husband, or accept my demands.
I called my cleanup crew to take care of the scene. They were efficient at changing a murder scene. Then I drove back to Fairview, keeping my shoulders back, heat spreading through me. Whether it was taking care of my enemies, killing for an initiation test, or getting rid of scum like Lena’s ex: I did what I had to.
Once I had showered their filth off of me, checked on Corinne, and finished my work for the day, I hurried to Dalton House. The rage boiling inside of me. Images of his skinny body, pinning Lena against the bed, kept popping into my mind. Then it was her husband, both of them smothering her. How could she do that to herself? Why would she stoop that low?
This time, when I showed up, Lena expected me. She stood inside of her bedroom, the balcony door open. Her robe fluttered in the breeze, her skin exposed with each gust. She was wearing nothing underneath.
But it wasn’t time for that.
“Tell me why,” I commanded.
“Tell you what?”
“Whythem?” I gritted my teeth. “What did Dalton do to you that was so bad, you killed him, butnotAaron?”
Her eyes floated down to the floor. “Maybe I was tired of taking it.”
My shoulders tightened, my chest heavy. But her suffering wasn’t my concern.
“Still doesn’t answer the first question,” I said. “Why them?”
After a few minutes of silence, I stepped closer, treading carefully, not wanting to break the peace. Finally, she looked up at me with those honey-brown eyes.
“Tell me, Lena,” I demanded. “I want to understand.”
I want to make sense of it,I thought.To make sense of my protective impulses for you.
“They were a way out,” she said. “I had known Aaron since elementary school. He promised me the world. His grandpa had left him the home, which gave us a real chance at a future. And when it came to John,” she lifted her shoulders, “he was an escape from Aaron.”
“Neither of them deserved you.” I shook my head. “Come on. You had to realize you deserved better.”
“Not really.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe that’s something I understand now, but back then?” Tears filled her eyes. “I could be stuck in that life. Sleeping on my friend’s couch, barely making minimum wage serving over-priced smoothies, or I could move in with Aaron. He owned his own place. Do you know how important that is if you live in Oakmont? And he promised me we’d sell it. Get a better house. Make our own home. And no matter how bad things got, he kept reminding me he had promised me that, and that he was going to do everything to make things right for us. But when the Marked Blooms Syndicate approached me, I knew I was going to rot and die in that home if I didn’t sign my life away. It was my chance to get out, to be the wife that John wanted. Aaron never cared if I was around, and when he did, he made sure I knew. And with John,” she threw an angry hand to the side, “all he wanted was a surrogate. A test dummy. And I wasn’t going to let him beat me into taking his prescriptions anymore.” Her voice quivered and the tears fell down her face. She clenched her teeth together, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “So yes, Desmond. I made some mistakes. But they weremymistakes.” She leaned in closer. “And I’m not going to apologize for doing what I thought was right.”
Passion burned inside of her, searing into me. I wanted to mold that anger, to make it my own, to show her how to harness it so that she was never manipulated again, so that she could control her own destiny. That kind of energy was invaluable, and after everything she had seen, she wasn’t afraid. Her lips were wet, full of lust and anger and heat, and I couldn’t stop staring at them.
But I couldn’t give in. Not to that.
Instead, I twisted her into my arms, bending her over the bed. I pulled off her robe, then smacked her ass so hard that she yelped. She arched her back, pushing her hips into me.
“Get my bag,” I growled.
She quickly grabbed my black bag from the closet, then dropped it down on the floor. I grabbed her by the waist, pinning her down to the bed, then went through my tools, finding the one I liked best. It was a thin stainless steel rod with a ribbed handle. I gripped it, enjoying the weight, knowing it was so much more brutal than she could anticipate. These toys had been ordered brand new, specifically for us, but I had been most excited to use this one. She was already speckled with purple, but this would bruise her easily.
Without waiting for another second, I whipped the rod through the air, striking it across her ass, a thin red and purple line immediately swelling in the light. Her fingers clenched the bedspread, her ass pressing back, itching to find me. I wanted to take her right then, but she needed to understand this. Why I was punishing her. Why I needed her to be in pain.
“Did they ever do this to you?” I asked. She shook her head. I swung the rod onto her ass again, and she whimpered. “Why not?”
“They didn’t have any interest,” she mumbled.
“In what?” I struck her again, three perfect lines dashing across her supple ass. “They had no interest in punishing a pretty little slut like you?”
“They had no interest inme,sir.”
I clenched the rod. No interest inher?What idiots.
“That’s a shame,” I said. “They had no idea how you’d react to being punished, did they?”
