Page 17 of Destroy (Deadly Hearts 2)

ChapterEight

Declan

“You have got to be kidding me,” I hiss at her, striding closer and wanting to shake some sense into her.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” she asks in a tone that is completely devoid of any emotion. She turns from us and walks away, in the direction of her bedroom, fully expecting me to follow her.

I do, but only to inform her that Daddy isn’t coming out to play today, or for a while for that matter.

The other men silently follow, probably also wondering if she has lost her mind.

I find her in the bedroom, standing at the foot of the big white bed, staring over it at the painting above the headboard. It’s Impressionist and I don’t have a fucking clue what it is meant to be of. But it’s her focus, so I look at it a bit harder.

“I’m not doing anything to hurt you,” I say quietly. I can’t yell at her, not now. Quiet force is the way to go here.

“Bring the box out from under the bed,” she says, ignoring me.

I give Layton a death stare when he does as she asks. What the fuck is he doing encouraging this?

He lays it on the bed and opens it.

“Take out the cat-o’-nine-tails.”

He does.

“Give it to Daddy, please.”

“Ruby,” I warn her with a tone that would usually work on anyone else in the world.

Layton holds it out to me, but I can see his reluctance. He just wants to do what she says, but he isn’t happy about it.

“I’m not taking that,” I insist, folding my arms over my chest defiantly.

“Yes, you are,” David croaks out.

“Excuse me?” I ask incredulously, fixing my death gaze onto him.

He flinches but doesn’t back down.

“She is asking you to do this. It is your duty to give her what she needs right now. Do you have to like it? No. None of us do. But it is what Ruby wants,” he says softly.

“Ruby has lost her mind,” I snarl.

“I’m still here and I’m of perfectly sound mind, if not body,” she says. “Do this or I will find someone who will,” she adds, cutting me badly.

“Then you find someone else,” I state coldly.

She turns her head to look at me. “Do you love me?” she asks.

I hesitate. She’s going to pull that one. “You know I do,” I mutter.

“Then you will do this,” she replies. She turns her body to face me. “Bare my back.”

“No,” I grit out.

“Do it or we are over, and I don’t just mean the role play,” she says, her eyes flashing with a warning that I take very seriously. She is a woman who knows her own mind. She knows she needs to be absolved for killing Boomer, but this isn’t the way, or the time. I start to shake my head, but the plea that falls into her eyes forces me to close mine so I can’t see it. Opening my eyes, with a heavy heart, I step closer to her and loosen the belt of her robe. My steady hands are shaking when I reach up to push it off her shoulders. She catches it by tightening her elbows into her sides so that it doesn’t fall completely to the floor.

Then she turns back to face the painting.

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