Hidden Currents (7 page)

He looked around at her family, feeling the weight of the ancient Drakes who had gone before, measuring his worth. And right now, at this moment, he wasn’t worth very much and he just couldn’t give a damn that they would all see. Elle was too important. Getting her back was too important; he’d just have to sort the rest of it out later. Right now, none of his well-thought-out reasons for not believing in her lifestyle seemed to matter at all.

Outside the open door, lightning lit up the sky in white jagged streaks, illuminating the dark turbulent water of the ocean. Thunder crashed, immediately followed by the angry boom of the sea. The wind rushed into the house and swirled around the women, feeding into the building energy and power in the room.

There was no way not to believe in the strange magic the sisters had when they were together. He knew Jonas thought it was their love and closeness that somehow made them a powerful force, but Jackson knew it had to be more than that—they seemed elemental parts of the universe—perhaps blessings bestowed on the family at birth. Whatever one believed in, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Electricity crackled in the room. Power built until the walls undulated and the floor shifted.

3

ELLE could hear a woman weeping in the distance. Hopeless. Broken. The sound filled with despair. She wished someone would help the woman because the closer she came to the surface, the more pain wracked her entire body and the crying kept pulling her out of her cocoon. She couldn’t imagine what had happened. She couldn’t remember.

“Sheena. Open your eyes. Stop crying, sweet, I’m here now and it’s going to be okay.”

Her body jerked involuntarily at the sound of that voice. She knew him. Knew his scent. Knew his touch. He brought pain or took it away. He had become her world. She knew nothing and no one else but him. He fed her. He took her to the bathroom. He chose whether or not she could wear clothes, or have a shower. His punishments, when she defied him—which was often—were terrible. He never changed tone. His voice always remained calm and matter-of-fact. Very powerful.

His hand stroked over her hair. The tumbled mass of red strands was the only place on her that didn’t hurt. Her back and buttocks were fire. Her breasts burned. And between her legs it throbbed and ached, so sore she didn’t want to move for fear her insides would fall out. But the pain in her head was the worst of all.

It took a few minutes before she realized that
she
was the woman weeping. Elle made an effort to quiet, to remember what happened. What had she done that had earned another of his terrible punishments?

“Sheena, come on now. Open your eyes for me.”

Her mouth went dry at the sound of his soft, persuasive voice. There was a metallic taste in her mouth. Someone touched her wrist and she knew instantly it was Stavros. In all the weeks he’d kept her, she’d never seen another human being, other than his brother that first day. Not one. She hadn’t heard another voice. He brought food and water. He tied her up and used her in every way he wanted. He whipped her repeatedly, left her alone until she thought she might go insane and yet often spent hours attempting to pleasure her with his hands and mouth and body. She never knew what his touch would bring. Her heart slammed hard in her chest and she tried to jerk away.

“Shhh, my sweet. I’m going to carry you to the bathtub. When I put you in the water, you have to stay on your hands and knees for me. Can you do that?”

She felt him slip his arm under her legs. The moment he made contact with her skin she suppressed a scream. Pain flashed through her and her stomach lurched. She tried to bring her hand up to cover her mouth, but her arms were too weak and felt too heavy, as if she were weighted down. Her wrists were burned and swollen.

His arm came up under her back and she screamed, arching upward trying to avoid contact. Her skin hurt and every movement made the pain crash through her skull. Fear ate at her. She couldn’t remember. She was so thirsty she could barely part her swollen, dry lips.

“Shhh, Sheena, stay still. You’ll only hurt yourself more.” He sounded sad, his voice almost sorrowful and disappointed. “You have to get control of yourself. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

He gently set her in the bathtub on her hands and knees, the warm water lapping at her body. Elle managed to open her eyes to narrow slits. Blood turned the water to a pale pink. Her skin burned and stung, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

“It’s antiseptic, my sweet. It will help numb you.” Very gently he wrang a warm cloth over her back. “Let me take care of you.”

But he had done this to her. She remembered now. All of it. He’d been so angry, although he hadn’t shown it, never raising his voice, but she knew him now, knew when she displeased him. He wanted obedience from her. She was his to do whatever he wanted. She knew that the weeks spent in his company, forced to turn to him for comfort, for companionship, food and water, even permission to go to the bathroom, was all designed to mold her and break her spirit. And God help her, sometimes she couldn’t remember who she was anymore.

The island had some kind of energy field that prevented her from defending herself using her psychic abilities. She’d tried testing it over the weeks, looking for weaknesses, trying different levels of strengths against it, but every single time, she’d been defeated, her headaches instantaneous and so painful she would vomit. Sometimes the pain was so severe she bled from her nose or mouth. Each time he’d forced her to have sex, usually daily, she’d tried to stop him, fighting physically and with her psychic talents. And each time had been a disaster for her.

First there was the pain in her head driving her to the floor where she could only writhe and weep. And then his retaliation, whipping her or beating her with whatever he chose, and he had a variety of instruments at his disposal, each worse than the other.

Her first time with a man had been with him. Shockingly, he had been gentle with her. He’d actually tried to make it pleasurable for her, and that was his way to break her. One moment he would offer comfort, taking care of her, seeing to her every need, and the next, if she in any way defied him, he would be ruthlessly frightening, punishing her swiftly and without mercy. She could never relax, never know what was coming next, fixing her attention on him the moment he entered the room, thinking about him when he wasn’t with her, so that he was her entire world and nothing else mattered.

He washed her body gently. “Don’t make me do this to you, Sheena. Accept that you are mine and that I am all you will ever need or want. I can make you happy and bring you more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined.” The warm water poured over her body, helping to numb the terrible pain of the raw wounds crisscrossing her back and buttocks and thighs. “You were born for me, to please me, to bear my children, strengthen my line. I wouldn’t have to punish you like this if you would simply obey me, Sheena.”

His hand continued to gently wash her wounds, the warm water and caressing fingers providing a balm to her tortured body. She closed her eyes again, shuddering, shaking, completely dependent on him for his help. Her arms began to collapse and he had to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. Very gently he rinsed off the rest of her body and then pulled the plug in the ornate, sunken tub.

Wrapping her in a soft, fluffy towel, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her as if she was the most precious woman in the world. Elle’s head fell back against his shoulder, and then she turned to bury her face against his neck. It was her first act of submission and it frightened her. She needed comfort, needed someone to hold and soothe her, rock her as he was doing. He took her to her bed and laid her gently on her stomach, massaging an ointment into the thin stripes covering her body.

She knew he had noticed her slip, that little drop of her head; she’d felt his heart jump and her eyes burned with tears. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, but her brain was beginning to kick in again. This couldn’t go on. She was going to be lost, or maybe she already was. There was no way out. Stavros was too powerful, his private island too isolated. No one knew where she was. She was tied or chained most of the time, locked in a room, and she couldn’t use even the smallest psychic talent. Her body hurt every minute of the day. She was exhausted and worn from fighting him.

He turned her over and rubbed the ointment into her breasts and belly, lower still, following the thin stripes inside her thighs and across her painful bare mound. Unbidden came the humiliating memory of him shaving her clean, right before he took her virginity. She bit at her lip to keep from crying out, but tears squeezed between her lashes. He leaned down to lick them away.

“You look so beautiful, sweetness.” His tongue traced a path to the edge of her mouth, down to one stripe across the swell of her breasts. “Your body will know only mine, and you’ll always crave my touch.”

She opened her eyes then to look at him. He seemed invincible. All powerful. She tried to make a sound, but her mouth was too dry and he immediately held a glass of water to her lips, helping her drink. He looked so caring she could almost believe him, but he had been the one to inflict the damage on her.

“Why do you keep hurting me?” She could barely form the words.

“You must learn obedience, Sheena. You are to serve me, at my pleasure. When I tell you to do something, you must never argue. You must obey without question.” He lowered her back to the bed and stroked his fingers over her shivering body. “Sometimes it may please me to hurt you and you will learn to be happy to do this.” He bent his head to her breast, his tongue flicking her nipple.

She hurt so much she couldn’t stop the little shudder that went through her, but still, he had been training her body to accept pain and find pleasure there as well. Already his fingers were probing between her legs, and, ignoring her wince and small cry, he pushed his head between her thighs, letting the dark shadowed jaw slide across the whip marks.

Oh God, she couldn’t do this anymore. She didn’t have the strength to fight him. Her fingers clutched at the silken sheet, bunching it into her fists while tears poured down her face. There had to be a way out. She just had to think. To find it. To stop feeling helpless like the victim he’d made her.

Elle. Baby. Stay alive for me. Any way you have to, stay alive for me. I’m coming for you.

Her breath caught in her throat. Was Stavros playing a trick on her? The voice was so familiar, so warm and caring—so achingly familiar. She went very still, trying not to respond, to open her mind. She knew if she did, pain would crash into her brain and she’d lose the tentative control she had going for her.

As if sensing her withdrawal from him, Stavros bit down on her so that she arched her body, a small cry of pain escaping.

You know I’ll never stop until I find you. Stay strong, baby. For me. For your sisters. For Jonas and Ilya and the entire damn village. Stay alive, Elle.

She gasped. Jackson. It was Jackson. He was coming for her. She could hold out as long as it took, take whatever punishment Stavros wanted to deliver. Feebly she tried to move away from Stavros. He clamped his hand across her hips, deliberately pressing into the raw wounds, all the while his tongue and teeth ravaging her. Her body spilled out a helpless response, already trained to obey even when her mind screamed a denial.

“Stavros, no. I hurt.” Maybe she could buy a reprieve with pleading.

“You live only to serve me,” he hissed. “Have I not taught you that?”

He bit the inside of her thigh, leaving behind teeth marks and adding bruises to her already striped flesh and Elle arched away from him, screaming.

“Your pain pleases me, Sheena. Now I have your full attention, don’t I?”

Elle. Damn it. Where are you? Answer me.
Jackson’s voice was pure command, all iron will—a will honed and shaped by violence—in the demand.
Answer me now.

Elle couldn’t have stopped herself from answering him if she’d wanted to. Jackson was everything to her now. He was hope. She was weak and he was a great distance away and with the energy field, she wasn’t certain she could get through to him. She drew on every ounce of discipline and strength she’d learned over the years and opened her mind to the man who had let her walk away.
Jackson.

Instantly pain crashed through her head, her body convulsed and she screamed out loud. She tasted blood in her mouth. Her brain rejected the abuse, and her body squirmed away from the pain, so that consciousness receded and the world turned hazy.

I’m here. I’m with you. Tell me where you are, Elle.

She braced herself, all too aware of what would happen, but determined to reach him anyway.
I don’t know. I can’t think straight. My head . . .
She trailed off, and the connection between them wavered as pain crashed through both of them. She needed to tell him about the energy field, but her head felt as if a thousand needles pierced her skull.

Don’t!
Jackson’s voice was sharp.
Stay with me, baby. I need you to look around you. What do you see? Who’s with you?

Stavros jerked upright, for the first time his face darkened into a mask of fury. “Why are you so stubborn?” He slapped her breast hard and then the other one, rocking her body.

Elle sobbed brokenly, clutching at her head, unable to bear the pain crushing her skull. Stavros sighed, his fake smile ugly. “You have to learn, and I don’t mind these little lessons if you insist on needing them.”

She rolled away from him, staring out the window at the gathering storm. Her heart jumped and, for a moment, the pain in her body receded and time slowed down. Storm clouds roiled above the house and darkened the skies. Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed, turning the sky into a canvas of turbulence. Wind slashed and howled at the glass, spraying seawater over the windows.

“Jackson,” she said, not realizing she whispered his name out loud. He was gone again, the bridge between them gone, and being alone was worse than before. She’d never felt so naked and vulnerable, stripped of everything she was—stripped of her courage.