Mercy's Angels Box Set (51 page)

She didn’t move, just stared at me, her eyes almost calculating. “Where?” she finally asked in a hushed tone.

At least she hadn’t said no.

“Away from here.”

The fear was back in her eyes, and her head shook from side to side as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She seemed oblivious to the fact she was naked.

“No arguing, Em, we don’t have time for it,” I quietly growled. “Get up and get dressed.”

“I can’t and I won’t. My life is here. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to leave and I would never. That’s why Nate is the only guard, and even he knows I won’t go anywhere. He doesn’t even lock my door anymore,” she hissed.

“Well, he locked you in tonight,” I noted, looking through her empty closets and wondering where the hell her clothes were kept. I could always take her as she was—naked—but some primal part of me didn’t want anyone else gazing upon her stunning form. I clenched my jaw tight and shook away that possessive line of thought. I noticed a hamper when I peeked through the bathroom door and was about to go check it, when Emily’s small voice caught my attention.

“Because I’ve been sold and they probably thought I’d try and leave.”

I stopped what I was doing, and my body became rigid. No emotion had laced her words, not a single speck of fear or revolt. I turned to face her, unmasked fury no doubt on my face. Emily didn’t flinch under my furious gaze though. She didn’t move to cover herself as most women might have done. She sat in front of me, her shoulders back, her head held high. Her beautiful breasts were outlined under the soft moonlight. I almost groaned out loud. After everything she had been through, she was still defiantly strong and beautiful—a perfect combination.

“Get up,” I whispered in a voice I knew would spark life into her submissive nature. Her eyes flared with recognition and ever so slowly, in a hesitant and confused manner, she rose from the bed. When her head threatened to lower in submission, I caught her chin with my fingers and lifted her gaze to mine. “We leave now. You either come willingly, or I will give you a sedative that will leave you vulnerable and unconscious.” Her nostrils flared ever so slightly under the quietly surprised intake of breath. She was taking too long to respond, so I reached for the syringe in my pocket.

“I can’t,” she finally whispered. “I promised Jonas I wouldn’t leave, and, in return, he promised me no harm would come to B.”

“Your sister is safe. I have my own people watching her and her friends. My security team knows men like Jonas; they can control the situation and keep Rebecca safe.” I left it at that, not wanting to get into the nitty gritty of the criminal aspect of my life right now, or ever for that matter. Her eyes flickered with indecision, and for a moment I thought I had won. The subtle movement in her body told me otherwise; she was going to fight me. Though I was glad she still held on to that belligerent spirit, I didn’t have time for it and preferred to leave the villa quietly, without dying and hopefully without killing. I had enough blood on my hands. I didn’t hesitate to throw her to the bed, keeping my weight pressed against her while I removed the syringe from my pocket. She struggled beneath me, but, much to her credit, she didn’t scream out. I pulled the protective sheath off the needle with my teeth. Emily’s eyes had that look again—unmistakable fear. It was so thick I could almost smell it. Before plunging the syringe into her skin, I looked into her eyes.

“I won’t hurt you, Em. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Her head began to shake in a violent rejection of my words and what I was about to do. I pushed the sedative into her vein, and while her pleading frightened eyes remained on me, I watched her as she became supple and quiet under my body. I hated doing that to her, scaring her like that, taking away her ability to defend herself. She had endured too much of that in her short life, and I swore right then she would never feel that fear again. I scooped her up from the bed and threw her over my shoulder fireman style. I would have preferred to have cradled her against my chest like the delicate flower she is, but I needed one hand free to reach for my weapons if I needed to. The running shower from the room next door had stopped, and I waited behind Emily’s closed door a moment, listening intently for any noise on the other side. When I heard nothing, I opened the now unlocked door, thankful for the noiseless hinges. A quick check of the hall proved it was empty. I pulled my Colt free just in case, feeling far more relaxed with the cold weight of the gun in my hand. I stepped into the hall and turned, making my way for the staircase at the end that would lead into an open living room. I would then slip out the doors that led to the porch, make my way down the beach to the inflatable, and be on my yacht within ten minutes. A subtle noise at my back got my attention and I turned quickly, my gun held straight and steady out in front of me. Nate had wandered into the hall, an empty plate in one hand and a glass in the other. He was dressed, a weapon no doubt on his person somewhere. He looked up, and his cold eyes landed on mine. Shock registered for a split second, and I offered him an arrogant smile.

“If you survive this, tell Jonas I am taking back what’s mine.” Why I felt that possessive declaration of ownership was beyond me. “She isn’t his to worry about any more. If he harms her family, I will kill him. If he comes for Emily, I will kill him slowly and painfully.” Nate’s eyes flared with fury, and, as the plate and glass fell from his hands, I knew he was taking the only chance he had. He was going to go for his weapon. He moved simultaneously, lunging for the open doorway of the room beside him. I anticipated this though and moved my aim slightly to the right and fired. The force of the gunshot had Nate thrown back against the wall, a red splotch unfurling like a blooming flower over the white fabric of his shirt, right in the center of his chest. He slipped to the floor, not unconscious, but close enough.

I made my way quickly down the stairs and out the glass doors. The breeze that blew across the sand smelled like ocean and salt, cooling my skin. The villa was behind me, Nate was more than likely dead or close to it, and Emily was safe. For now.

My mouth was dry, tastelessly, uncomfortably dry. The heaviness in my limbs and the foggy depths of my mind told me right away that I had been drugged, again. I hated being drugged, being unable to defend myself if I needed to. Master Jonas only did it when I disobeyed or when he needed to transport me to a secret location. When he had taken me from Claymont to the Island, he had drugged me. I could only assume they had drugged me this time to move me to my new Master’s residence. My heart sank with the realization—I was most likely not in America any more. I had a new Master, a Russian Master. Would he treat me well? What would he expect of me? Would he share me? Would he hurt me like Master Jonas had? The doubts and fears combined with the lingering drugs in my system made me feel ill. I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I knew it didn’t make the situation any less real if I kept them clenched shut. Instead I gathered the courage and strength that had kept me alive this long and opened them.

The room was dimly lit and I slowly took in my surroundings. It was a reasonably large room and quite opulent. The bed was unbelievably comfortable, adorned with fine quality clean sheets and a thick white comforter. A large flat screen TV was positioned on the wall in front of the bed. A small settee sat on my right, clothes folded in a neat pile atop it. Closed blinds covered a row of windows to my left and on that same side an open doorway led to a bathroom that appeared small but luxurious. Regardless of who my new Master was, he was obviously wealthy. That didn’t concern me one way or the other. Master Jonas had been wealthy. When I had been allowed to wear clothes, I had been adorned in the most lavish fabrics and expensive brands. Thousands of dollars in beauty treatments and spas had been thrown into my weekly regimen. My room had almost always been exceptionally extravagant and comfortable. None of it was worth the price I had to pay though. I was a slave, a whore. I was nothing more than a cheap, worthless elixir in an elaborately presented bottle.

Feeling adequately satisfied that I was alone, I risked sitting up. Right away I was hit with the feeling that I was moving, a gentle sway back and forth. Holy shit! I was on a boat. My breathing hitched up a notch at the realization. To say I was uncomfortable on a boat was an understatement. For starters, I couldn’t swim and was terrified of the water because of it. I didn’t really care how fancy this boat was, I was immediately anxious. I barely noticed the door open, the gentle light from outside silhouetting the tall figure now standing in the doorway—my new Master. Ignoring my panic and the sickness in my stomach, I quickly slipped from the bed and fell to my knees, the thick carpet beneath me a tender cushion. I didn’t know what my new Master preferred so I assumed the position Master Jonas had drilled into me, my eyes downcast. I kept still, my breathing as calm and relaxed as I could manage. A deep sigh filled the quiet of the room. I didn’t hear his footsteps as he moved to stand before me. He was wearing boots, big dirty black boots, and I found that unusual for a man of his wealth, especially while taking a trip on this luxurious yacht. He got down on his haunches in front of me and put his strong finger under my chin. My head lifted to meet his gaze. I didn’t even attempt to hold back the gasp that escaped my lips. Braiden. Images from the night before flashed through my mind—he had taken me from Master Jonas. I began to tremble in fear; this was worse than being sold to a new master. This was worse than any punishment. This was downright terrifying. By stealing me away from Master Jonas, Braiden had put many lives at risk, my own being the least of my worries.

“Rebecca is safe, her friends are safe, and you are safe,” he whispered.

It didn’t stop my trembling because I didn’t believe him. I had no reason to.

“I have contacts outside of law enforcement that are at my disposal. I have assigned two men to shadow Rebecca and Charlie and one man to each of their closest friends. They are safe.”

I took a few deep breaths and let his words sink in. I wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘outside law enforcement,’ but it comforted me somewhat. The police were no match for Master Jonas.

“I am not your Master. You don’t need to fall to your knees for me, do you understand?”

I blinked once, twice, and then shook my head ever so slowly. “Who is my Master?” I finally whispered, my voice so low I’m surprised he heard me.

Braiden’s eyes latched onto mine. “You don’t have a master anymore, Em. Your life is yours to live as you see fit.”

My mouth fell open with shock. What did he mean, I don’t have a master anymore? Who would clothe me? Who would feed me? I began to tremble again. My once numb, frozen heart and mind were bombarded with emotions that were scattered and confused. I didn’t even know how to begin a day without a command. Did I shower first? Should I be clothed? When would I eat? My life for many years had been lived by command; I needed it. Even after Master Jonas had given me to William, I had still lived a life with a strict regimen, I had still been collared. My body tried to fight the emotions that flooded my limbs, the trembling that had invaded my senses. My head swirled and dizziness consumed my senses. I swayed on my knees and black dots clouded my vision.

“Breathe, Emily!” Braiden’s deep commanding voice cut through my panic. “Long deep breaths, in and out.”

I followed Braiden’s lead and matched my breathing to his. I calmed myself down and pushed back the tears that threatened to spill. Tears were a weakness that would get me nowhere.

Braiden’s head tilted slightly as he seemed to consider me. “You fear not having a master,” he carefully noted.

I couldn’t respond; the words were lost in confusion and my scattered thoughts. The pounding in my heart echoed loudly in my ears. My mouth had been dry from the drugs in my system, but now I couldn’t even find enough moisture to swallow. I opened my mouth in an attempt to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat.

“Drink this.” Braiden held out a tall glass of water. I tried to hold the cool glass to my lips, but the shaking in my hands caused the liquid to spill. Drops of ice cold water fell down my chest, between my breasts and down my stomach. I barely noticed it though, my mind and body were hostage to panic. “Em!” Braiden said, taking the glass. His other hand clamped the back of my head hard, forcing my eyes to his. “Settle down, Malen’kaya, I’ve got you now.”

I took more long deep breaths and watched the dark depths of Braiden’s eyes, allowing his low murmured words to settle into my conscious thought. His eyes never left mine; the dominance and strength I found in them was soothing. After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, I had calmed enough to allow Braiden to raise the glass to my lips. My hands remained limply in my lap as he helped me take slow sips from the cool liquid. I finished the entire glass before he pulled away. Still on his haunches in front of me, he shook his head and frustration settled on his features. Was he already disappointed with me? Was he going to punish me? Whatever he was feeling it disappeared under a determined stare.

I couldn’t get a read on him. I wasn’t sure if he was angry with me, if he pitied me, or if it was perhaps a combination of disgust and disappointment.

“I will be your new master,” he said through gritted teeth.

I could tell his words were laced with a certain amount of regret yet I still found peace in them. My body quickly came down from the lingering heights of panic, and my head fell forward. Braiden used a finger to raise my eyes back to his.

“For now. This isn’t something you are going to need for much longer, but I will help you, for now,” he explained, emphasizing the “for now.”

I couldn’t fathom ever being able to get through the day without being told what to do, but I was comforted in the fact that I still had a master, even if only temporarily. I would worry about it later when the time came.

“I’m not particularly fond of having a girl fall to her knees every time I enter a room, so please try to refrain. I know many of your habits have been most likely been beaten into you, literally.” He had no idea. “If we can begin with reconditioning you to remain standing rather than displayed on your knees, that will be a good start. We will go over any other rules or concerns you might have later. For now, I want you to take a shower and get dressed. There are some clothes on the settee for you. I hadn’t anticipated you having nothing to wear, and we are going to be on the water for a few days. There is another female on board. Her name is Gabbie. She has loaned you some of her clothes. She’s a little taller than you, but they’ll do for now. She had a few swimsuits you might prefer to wear as undergarments, but somehow I don’t think going without will be a problem for you.”

I rarely wore bras and panties. Master Jonas and some of his clients occasionally requested I wear uncomfortable bustiers and corsets with garters and leather. I was more comfortable without underwear. I nodded and Braiden offered me a small lopsided grin that did something funny to my heart. I liked his smile; it made him appear more youthful and carefree. Braiden’s hand moved forward as if to reach for my cheek and I winced. Not because I thought he might hurt me, his actions were too slow and careful to be brutal. I winced because I wasn’t familiar with this sort of touch any longer, and I hated any kind of skin contact with the innocent. It made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to stain anyone with my sins. When I realized my slight, I cringed further, knowing punishment would surely follow. To shy away from a master’s touch was forbidden. I forced my fear away and lowered my head like the perfect submissive.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I barely managed to whisper.

Braiden was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he was considering how he might punish me.

“I’m the one who should apologize, Em. I shouldn’t assume I can touch you without your permission, and unless it is given, I will keep my hands to myself. It is me who is sorry.” Braiden shifted slightly. “And I’d rather you didn’t call me Master. Either call me Braiden or if you aren’t ready for that yet, call me…”He seemed to contemplate his next words carefully before speaking them. “Shakhta.” It sounded like shark-ta, but it was spoken with a slight roll of the tongue at the k-ta. I had no idea what it meant, but I assumed it was some form or variation of master. I had been so focused on his title that his solemn apology suddenly hit me full force. He was sorry? He had said the word, such a simple innocuous word that warmed a small place in my heart. No man had ever apologized to me.

“Thank you, Shakhta,” I said slowly to make sure I had pronounced it correctly. Braiden’s small grin of approval helped my shoulders relax. Shakhta, I played the word over again in my mind. I liked it even though I had no idea what it meant. It felt personal and intimate. Braiden’s eyes dipped for just a moment then quickly returned to my eyes. If I hadn’t been carefully watching him, I wouldn’t have even noticed. It was then I realized that Braiden hadn’t once looked over my naked body the way men usually did. He hadn’t leered. He hadn’t ogled. Each time I had looked up at him, his eyes had been on mine. I wondered if he didn’t find any pleasure in my body; it was scarred after all. My skin was no longer blemish free; instead it was mutilated and tarnished, just as scarred on the outside as I was on the inside.

“After you have showered and dressed, just head through that door. There is a living area and kitchen beyond. I’ll have something ready for you to eat when you’re finished.” Braiden stood slowly and left the room.

I remained on my knees for a long time, my thoughts tangled and clouded, until I finally succumbed to the need to clean myself. I washed often, sometimes several times a day. No matter how often I scrubbed my skin though, I was never fully clean.

After showering, I carefully went through the few garments that had been left out for me: two simple knee length sun dresses in light cool fabrics, a sarong and a simple black bikini. I hadn’t worn a bikini since I was a teenager back in Claymont, and even then I could count the occasions on one hand. Opting to go without the bikini—any association with water made me incredibly nervous—I slipped one of the dresses over my head. The dress was a pale shade of blue that didn’t cling too tightly to my body and managed to look innocent yet feminine. I couldn’t recall the last time I wore something so simple and comfortable. I studied myself in the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. I looked youthful, even virtuous. My hair was still cropped stylishly short. I had rid myself of my beautiful long locks many years ago. Men liked to pull hair—they had pulled mine often—by cutting it short I had taken that away from them. Master Jonas had agreed, but only because he knew it would encourage his fellow Dom’s to get more creative with their restraints. I turned to see how visible the scars on my back were. They peeked out the top, but there was nothing I could do about them. Hopefully just the sight of the hideous scars would give men second thoughts about touching me. After standing in front of the mirror, behind the protection of the door for at least a good twenty minutes, I finally gathered the courage to leave the room.

Stepping through the doorway, I entered the living area on the other side. It was just as opulent as the bedroom and bathroom. A large horseshoe sectional sofa filled one side of the room and wrapped around a huge glass coffee table. On the opposite side of the vessel was a large kitchenette. I found Shakhta sitting on one of the tall chairs that lined the tall, high polished granite table in front of the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of light colored cargos with a pale blue t-shirt that stretched across his wide muscular back. He was definitely one of the handsomest men I had ever seen, and I have seen many men. He was tall, around six feet. His hair a stylish shaggy cut and black as night. His eyes were just as dark with almost no noticeable difference in color between the pupil and iris. His charming looks were dark and mysterious. They frightened me—not in the same way Master Jonas had though. My former Master was evil, there was no doubt about it. Shakhta, however dark he appeared, was quite obviously honorable. He sat with me in the hospital back in Claymont for hours without even attempting to touch me. He talked to me, told me about B and Charlie. He had told me about his own security firm, and when he had run out of things to talk about, he had picked up the local paper and simply read it to me. He had shown me nothing but kindness. The way he made me feel inside confused me and having such blurred emotions made me nervous. Before Shakhta had taken me from Master Jonas, I knew my place. I stopped feeling long ago and just existed; it was easier that way. Now I had no idea where I stood or what my future held. Hope had always been a notion that I tried hard to ignore. Now it threatened to spill from my heart and flood my senses. I didn’t want to hope; it was an illusion that would only lead to disappointment.