His Captive, The Unabridged Collection: Billionaire Dark Romance (15 page)

“I'm very grateful that we reached you in time,” Rafe said in a low grumble.

“No, it's not the same!” I yelled out, my voice rising and echoing throughout the room. “So Rachel sells a few pills here and there for extra money, that's not the same thing at all! Not the same thing as selling little children to pedophiles! It's just a few pills!”

"No!” Rafe’s fist came down hard on the metal table, causing it to roll away and the body to slosh to one side. He took several steps toward me with his hands raised. I clutched my robe closed at my throat and turned my head away but didn't move.

“Do you know what a junkie would do for pills?” he snarled so close to my ear that I could feel his breath blowing my hair back. “The weak, the desperate? Because Rachel knows. Because Gemma taught her! Rachel isn’t just selling you a
party
. She’s selling a nightmare… She’s selling torture like you can't even imagine!”

“Gretchen?” I whispered. The word hung in the air as though we could both see it. Rafe quaked in front of me for several long seconds before letting his hands drop to his side.

“Gretchen was weak,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, filled with an immeasurable pain. “And I should've saved her. I would have, if I had known how badly — but I didn't see it. I didn't see it the way Gemma could see it. I know now that I didn’t
want
to see.”

He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling then twisted away from me, pushing his hands through his hair and taking fistfuls viciously. The wound was obvious, and still fresh. I almost felt like I could see him bleeding on the inside.

“It is the worst feeling in the world, to be helpless.”

He trembled where he stood, and my heart broke to watch him. I had seen him so strong, so able. And now I knew all of that concealed damage so deep and fresh it must be killing him.

“You're not helpless,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Suddenly he was all motion, action. He snapped the hem of his shirt down to straighten it, then slid a table close to his side. Reaching over Micah’s torso, he thumbed the IV gate until Micah began to groan louder and strain his bony shoulders against the leather strap.

I took a single step back reflexively, staring wide-eyed at him and the stranger on the table. I knew that's how I looked. Pitiful, vulnerable, weak. Plain and naked. Micah couldn’t hide what he truly was under the lights of Rafe’s white chapel.

Rafe walked slowly around the table, his hands clenching and relaxing at his side as he circled it. He stared down at the man, a slow, hungry smile spreading across his lips. The look was vicious and delighted all at once, like a lion with its prey under a heavy paw.

Micah’s long hair clung to his forehead and bare shoulders, dripping with the cold sweat of terror. Rafe pulled the purple cloth off his eyes and Micah blinked frantically against the light, his eyes wildly darting around the room and then back to Rafe.

My heart hammered in my ears as I remembered this feeling, slowly pulling together details, waking up strapped to the icy cold surface. I remembered the way the sound echoed in shards. Micah snarled against the cloth that was tight over his mouth, forcing his jaw apart. I could see his tongue pushing against the fabric.

Rafe circled back, coming to stand in front of me. “This is what you wanted to see, Jolie.”

I gave a quick nod, my eyes firmly on Micah’s. His whole life was changing, skittering sideways from whatever he had planned. This was his new, terrible reality, and it was as though I could see him assembling that fact as I watched.

I was almost right there. At this point. And I almost deserved it.

As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew Rafe was right. Rachel had convinced me to do whatever I needed to get by, even if I knew it was wrong. The justifications were so easy, so sneaky. And it had seemed like there wasn’t anything else. But hadn’t it always been like that? Ricky had convinced me to be quiet when I knew I shouldn’t. Travis had convinced me to accept his rough love. And every time I opened up my mouth I made it worse, my whole life.

But that was the wrong way of looking at it - it wasn’t the truth-telling that made it worse, it was going down that path in the first place.

“This is what I needed to see,” I whimpered, desperate and filled with remorse. This stripped man, waking up to the last terror he would know. His hips strained against the middle strap. His fingers splayed and I noticed he was missing one finger, the wound still fresh and red.

“I know it’s hard,” Rafe whispered from behind me. His breath seemed to sink into my skin, then my spine, giving me strength. “It’s hard to truly confront what we are.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered for the hundredth time.

“I know, Julie. I understand,” he said, filling me with comfort.

A small, sharp noise sounded out behind me. Rafe drew his hand up with a large folding knife, revealing the blade with a smooth, practiced motion. He turned it in his hand with a strange sort of reverence, at once inspecting and worshiping it.

He grabbed my hand then, and I pulled away quickly. “What a—“

Rafe pushed the handle of the blade into my palm, forcing my fingers closed around it. I shook my head hard, giving it back to him the second he released my fingers.

“No? What's the problem, Julie? I thought you wanted to know?”

My heart thumped wildly, hard and seemingly out of time as the reality of the situation came crashing down on me. As much as I wanted to be beside Rafe, as much as I wanted to understand him, as much as I felt like I trusted him... this was still him.

I'd been in denial. He was a killer, and he wanted me to be a killer too.

“I don't want it. I don't want to. I can't, he doesn't...” I pointed to Micah. “You could turn him in, Rafe. You could let the police… It's wrong, this is... this is all wrong.”

His words were even, measured, calm. “This man is scum, Julie. He’ll never stop, and sadly, the police have lost interest in stopping him. He is a cancerous tumor that will be excised from humanity. And this is what I do, Julie. I have to if no one else will.”

He advanced slightly, and I couldn't help but shrink back as he held the knife in midair.

“No one else is going to do it.”

Rafe forced me to take the blade again, closing my fingers painfully tightly around the handle. Micah raised his head, now fully conscious. His eyes were shiny and wide, pleading. The gag kept back a muffled, terrified groan.

“He knows now, Julie. Look at his face. He knew this was coming.”

I stared at Micah and saw understanding spread across his features. All the confusion was gone. Rafe was right. Panic whitened his features. Micah’s eyes immediately shot to the shining length of the blade, going pale in horror. He shook his head hard and began pulling desperately at the straps, jogging the table left and right.

Rafe stepped aside.

He leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. “Do it. Do it
now
. He's
filth
. End it.”

My body vibrated, waves of horrified tension washing over me. I knew that I could and no one would ever know. Micah’s crimes were disgusting, and I could easily imagine what he had put those kids through. He deserved it. Rafe was right.

But I stared wide-eyed at the gurney, seeing my own hands and feet tied where his were.

“I... I can't. Rafe, I can't.” I looked down to the blade, feeling oddly defeated. I had let him down. I felt weak, and even more helpless than I was when I was strapped there.

He nodded slowly and held out his hand. Trembling, I laid the gleaming knife across his palm.

“Please leave.”

There was no anger in his voice, but there was no tenderness either. It was a simple command. He was back to business.

Stepping backward over the cold tiles, I lingered at the doorway. My heart beat frantically against my ribs, the sound so loud it almost blotted out everything else. I clutched at the neck of my kimono and pressed my back flat against the closed door.

Rafe glided toward one wall, returning to the gurney with a rolling cart. I couldn’t even see the blades, they were shrouded in the reflected glare of the lights. Micah jerked hard against the shoulder restraints, coming up nearly halfway as he strained. Rafe took a half step back and surveyed him dispassionately, his gaze taking in each restraint individually, assessing their sturdiness.

Cocking his head to one side, Rafe listened to Micah’s screams crescendo. His bony ribcage heaved with every cry. Clawing pointlessly at the air, he pulled in all his limbs together, then thrust them all out, beating his elbows and heels against the steel. The sound echoed and rang through the white room, filling it with a macabre music.

I found myself wishing he would just do it. Just end it. Make the screaming stop.

Rafe drew his hand over the selection of blades almost lovingly, curiously. He seemed to be taking his time about making a choice. Then his eyes crinkled in a smile and he reached out and flicked away the gag from Micah’s mouth. Instantly his screams filled the room, bouncing bloody from wall to wall. Rafe stared at him curiously as the sound peaked and then trailed off as suddenly as it started. Micah’s chest heaved frantically as he took in gulps of the last air he would ever have.

Rafe leaned forward.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you,” he said in a low, even voice. It wasn’t a question.

“It wasn’t me!” Micah howled. “It was Fran! Fran had this… thing. He was crazy, man! He took me when I was young!”

Rafe shook his head sadly. Leaning forward, he rested the heel of his palm against the table and raised his eyes level with Micah’s. They were only inches from each other.

“You were one of the victims,” Rafe sighed sadly.

“Yes!” Micah screamed. “I was! I had no choice! He made me…”

Micah’s voice dissolved into racking sobs. His bony knees flexed and relaxed over and over as he tried to curl into a ball.

“Micah, we all make choices,” Rafe said.

“He made me! He made me!”

Rafe nodded slowly.

“If it’s any consolation, Micah, I believe you,” he sighed. Then he plucked the widest blade from the table and held it up in one hand almost casually, as though posing with a fishing rod or balancing a pendulum.

“No!” Micah screamed. “NoooooOOOO!!!”

The blade flashed so quickly, I barely saw it. There was a sound of contact as through Rafe had simply punched him square in the sternum. But the scream frayed and then drowned, wet and then silent.

Rafe’s shoulders heaved several times. Suddenly he seemed out of breath. He leaned in very close to Micah’s now-silent body. When he stood again, a fine mist of red spatters covered him from his lower lip to the buckle of his belt.

I knuckled my mouth closed, biting back the animal sound that wanted to come out of me.

Rafe crossed the room toward me smoothly, like a cat. His arms came up and I pushed myself against the wall, afraid my knees were going to buckle underneath me.

“That’s better now, isn’t it?” he whispered, folding his arms around me. As his grip tightened, I felt my legs stop trembling. I breathed him deeply, becoming stronger every second.

“It’s better,” I said in a small voice, raising my eyes to meet his.

He shook his head slightly, and after a few seconds I saw a small smile curl at the corners of his lips.

“You’re so much strong than I even thought, Julie,” he breathed. I found myself nodding.

I’m so much stronger. I am.

“I didn’t know you were going to be able to watch,” he whispered. He spoke so close that his lips brushed against mine and I tasted the coppery, salty tang of blood on my tongue.

In moments his lips were on mine, prying my mouth open. His tongue pressed against my teeth and I arched my back, hungry for his kiss. The taste of him exploded in my mouth in a cascade of angry, furious fireworks. Before I understood what was happening, the robe had fallen from my shoulders and my legs were locked around his hips, and he was half-running, carrying me back to Gretchen’s room as I held on for dear life.

The door to Gretchen's room swung open with a bang and I held on tight to Rafe’s hips as he carried me toward the bed. I could not let him go, could not stop kissing him. It was as though I was starving for him and had been my whole life. The taste of him was like meat on my tongue, giving me strength, making me whole.

His fingers dug against the backs of my thighs as he lifted me up, tossing me effortlessly onto the pristine, plush comforter. I pushed myself backward along the blankets, dutifully raising my arms over my head. He balanced himself over me, letting his eyes trail along my arms to my wrists. His slow smile spread across his pale pink lips as he realized what I was offering: my utter submission.

“Oh, you're a good little pet, aren't you?” he murmured, delight curling the corners of his mouth.

In a whirl, he was off me and off the bed, leaning over the small bedside table. He slid open the black drawer and drew out two lengths of midnight-colored velvet. I held my hands over my head and paused, panting. I could barely wait for what was next.

His fingers were precise and soft as he looped the velvet ropes over my right wrist and drew it snugly to the bedpost. Then he slowly prowled around the end of the bed, his eyes focused on mine, glittering darkly. I kept my left hand ready against the pillow and moaned softly when he plucked my wrist gently in his fingers to secure the binding. The sound of the rope sliding over the carved wooden headboard was a beautiful percussion.

When both my hands were bound and my arms stretched out wide, Rafe paced to the end of the bed and stood there, looking me over hungrily. He pushed his hands through his black hair and paused, tense and flexing.

Slowly, deliberately, his hands fell and began unbuttoning his silk shirt. My eyes feasted on the thick, sculpted muscle as he drew the shirt over his shoulders and let it fall to the floor with a soft billowing noise. My hips squirmed against the silken sheets in anticipation. I couldn't stop staring at him. After all the time that we had spent together and all the ways that he had scourged and pleasured my body, I realized that I had never really seen him.

A dark line zagged down the front of his naked chest and I realized suddenly that was Micah’s blood. To my surprise, my heart quickened at the thought. Rafe’s fingers snapped open his belt buckle and then his trousers, peeling back the woolen fabric to expose the defined crescent of muscle over his hip. As his cock bobbed free, I saw that it was thick and dusky at the tip, perfectly straight and glistening with desire.

My legs opened as though they had a will of their own. As the skin on my thighs pulled apart, I could feel cool air intruding on the slick wetness of my folds. Rafe narrowed his eyes as I slid my ankles apart, exposing myself to him. His fingers flexed against the carved footboard and he nodded slowly.

“If we do this,” he snarled, “there will be no going back.”

I nodded.

"No," he said, his eyes flashing like lightning. “That is not a vain promise. I need you to understand: if we do this, you will have to be mine. Forever.”

I looked at him carefully, measuring each ridge and ripple of his lean body with my eyes. I could almost feel what it would be like to run my tongue over the swell of each muscle.

“Say it.”

“I will be yours,” I repeated in a whisper.

He shifted his weight to one hip, his cock still pointing straight at me with the unbroken stare of a cobra ready to strike.

“I will,” I said in a louder voice. “I will be yours, Rafe. Forever.”

Without another word, he leapt over the footboard and crawled up the bed toward me. It happened so fast, I barely had time to register that it was happening at all.

If I expected him to be slow, I was wrong. If I expected him to be tentative or mincing, I was so,
so
wrong. Rafe pushed my thighs apart with his hands and entered me in one strong, irrevocable thrust. His girth was so enormous I felt as though I was tearing, but he paused when he was embedded up to the hilt and I sucked in a single cleansing breath.

“I knew you could take it," he snarled in my ear.

His hands tangled in my hair and he rested his weight on his elbows as he began to pound mercilessly into me. I flung my legs over his hips and locked my ankles together, welcoming every inch. I felt as though I had been overcome as though by an ocean wave. I was drowning, overwhelmed. I could barely breathe as his kisses sucked every breath from my lips. For a moment I thought I might suffocate, and I felt like I couldn't breathe deeply enough to stay conscious. And still he thrust into me over and over again, coming out almost entirely before plunging back in with a strength and intensity that I had never even contemplated before.

The sound of his snarls filled my mouth and ears. I closed my eyes to experience every sensation more fully. I breathed him deeply into my lungs, that scent of his piney, spicy cologne becoming more acidic and musky with every passing second. When his shoulders broke out in a fine mist of sweat I knew he was getting close. I wiggled my hips in tight circles underneath him, trying to find my path to ecstasy before he came. But he filled me so completely that it wasn't very difficult at all. He pushed all my buttons effortlessly.

As I circled my hips desperately I felt the bright crimson bloom in my mind. His snarls became more urgent and I followed the bloom deeper and deeper into my mind until it burst, splitting open in a triumph of bliss that poured through my body like a flood.

Rafe roared into my mouth as he came, and I felt the hot surge of his seed spilling through every crevice of me. His entire body arched and flexed and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as he drove himself so deeply into me that I thought I couldn't take the pain anymore. But after a few moments he subsided, slumping on me heavily, panting and gasping.

With quaking fingers he reached up and released the knots that bound me. I wrapped my arms over his heaving shoulders, stroking his wet hair and holding him as tightly as I could.

As the pleasure ebbed and receded slowly, I kept my arms locked around his shoulders. After a little while, I felt a buzzing, satisfied drowsiness overcome me, and began to sink into sleep.

“You promised, don’t forget,” I thought I heard him whisper as I drifted away. “You are mine.”