Only Pretend (18 page)

Everyone who had denied me help.

What if they're all right?

I dreamed of a small house in a row of duplicates. Each building was a copy, a neighborhood so set on keeping things crisp white and in perfect lines. The day my parents' home had burned down, both of them sleeping inside, I'd been spending the night with my boyfriend.

Looking down at myself, I watched the fire eat at my flesh.
They only ever wanted me to be good. That I started dating boys, dared to ask them about sex and birth control, made them believe I was betraying them.

They thought sex before marriage was awful. They thought I was awful.
Flames took off everything, left only the charred bones behind.
Maybe they were right.

It had been my desire to go wild, to show myself off and make a point to my ex, that had landed me where I was.

No one wants me as I am.

I should have died in that fire with them.

Overhead, someone said my name. I didn't want to wake up, I wasn't ready to face... to face what waited for me.
Vitaly.
The man I was to marry, but not the man I wanted. He didn't know me and wanted to ruin me.

Leonide wants to ruin you, too.

Again, someone called to me. Turning away in the black smoke, I struggled to stay under. Waking was pain. Waking would tear me from the one person who had hungered for me—for
me—
like no one ever had.

Do I want him because of that? Because he melts me, takes away my control?
Perhaps I was sick.
Yes. That explains it.
All this time, I'd been too twisted for my parents, yet not twisted enough for Jones.

For Leonide... I'm just right.

The darkly handsome stranger who had stolen me in the night. Leonide had done everything that should have made me hate him. And I had.
So when did it change?
How did I make myself hate someone who looked at me, reached inside and felt my corruption, and still chased me through the thunder and rain?

I don't want Vitaly to have me.

I wanted the man who was trying to get rid of me.

The world was wicked... even to the wicked people themselves.

People like me.

“Celeste.”

Sluggishly, my eyes cracked open. There was pressure in my left hand; I rolled my head to look. Fingers, strong and able, wrapped on mine. Like startled fish in a river, they pulled away. It happened so fast, I wondered if I'd imagined someone holding my hand at all.

Then I saw him.

Leonide rested in a chair, sitting at my side in the dim light of a computer.
I'm in his room.
The thought stabbed at me with memories, pulled away some of the wool on my senses. Sitting up made me grunt.

“You're awake,” he said, not moving to touch me. Were there circles under his eyes? It was hard to tell in the shadows. “How do you feel?”

Rolling my gaze down, I saw the bandages on my upper arm.
Where the glass sliced me open.
“I feel... rough.” The inside of my mouth was stale. Speaking scratched at my throat.

Leonide dropped his clasped hands between his knees. “Not surprising. The rain did a number on you.”

“The rain? I thought... with all that blood...”

“You were badly injured, Celeste.” His tone had an edge. “You cut yourself open running as you did. The water didn't help when it gave you a respiratory infection. You've been in and out for three days.”

Three days.
Pushing the back of my head into the pillows, I flexed my fingers, felt my drained body responding. “Oh.” It was all I could say.

We sat there, me darting looks at him while he continued to stare at the floor. I knew someone had given me pain medication, it was clear as the ache started to throb in my healing wound.
I don't deserve comfort. I'm a dumb fucking girl who's as messed up as her captor.
The yearning to apologize, even just to get him speaking to me, grew stronger.

Leonide whispered, his accent heavy. “What you said to me. Did you mean it?”

My heart thudded faster. “What did I say?”

Lifting his chin, he watched me with a placid, unreadable expression. “You told me you weren't running from me.”

If I tell him the truth... will it change anything?
I felt my lungs shudder, working to handle my breathing while they recovered from my illness. “I meant what I said. I ran because I'm terrified of Vitaly. Not of you.”

His eyes flashed. “Why are you scared of him?”

I dug my fingers into the blankets. “I—I just know he's dangerous.”

“Oh?” Venom dripped from his voice, his shadow falling over me with just a minor adjustment in how he leaned. “Then you're asking to stay here, to stay with me?”

Could my eyes get any wider? “Yes.” I didn't want to lie. Lying had done nothing but put me on this path towards Vitaly in the first place.

In front of me, Leonide's features scrunched; I saw a hint of his teeth. “The parts of him that frighten you are the same parts of me.” His hand came down on mine, trapping it on the mattress. “The things he's asked for? I've enjoyed putting you through
all
of them. He and I are no different.”

Looking into his threatening glare, I didn't flinch. “You're wrong. There is something different. He doesn't care about me.”

His hand stiffened on mine. I tensed, expecting him to hurt me. It was worse when he let go, arm falling limply into his lap. None of the tension had left his tone. “And neither do I.”

Splinters of doubt drilled into me. “You're a liar.”

“No!” His lips curled back. “You're the one who tells lies, sweet girl. You tell them to yourself, convincing that mind of yours that I could somehow even
try
to care for you.” He drew further away, chair rocking back and forth. Leonide burned with energy, openly fidgeted. I wondered if he was fighting between fleeing me or attacking. “You think that because I've worked to keep you together, that saving you from yourself meant I felt something more.”

“Stop,” I croaked, losing ground to his ruthlessness.

Standing tall, he frowned at me. “You want me to love you. You're the most delusional girl I've ever met.”

I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore. Maybe I did lie to myself; the hot liquid burning down my cheeks was a bitter pill. “Please, just stop it.”

“I try to give you a new life, a new home, and you thank me by making me chase you
naked
through the fucking mud—”

“
Stop it!”

“—All the lies about obeying, about listening to what I say! You want to try and convince yourself that I love you—to try and trick me into thinking you want to stay at my side?”

Through my blurred vision, I saw only his scowl. “I'm not lying! I do want to stay with you, I don't want to be sold off as a slave to someone I never even—”

His hand came down, halting inches from my face. He was coiled, ready to hit and barely holding back. “What did I say before? About calling me a slaver?”

Cringing away, I held my weak arms up to shield me. “I didn't... I just...”

Slowly, he lowered his arm. The heat in his eyes had evaporated, he looked like he'd remembered something that had made him sad. In a blink, it vanished behind his stern mask; fingers smoothed through his hair. “It doesn't matter. How could I believe anything you say, Celeste? You lied from the very start.”

He didn't need to explain. I touched my hair, felt the weight of it like the blonde strands were iron chains. Anguish infused my every word. “I was only playing pretend.”

Leonide looked down on me, pure winter and razors in both eyes and tongue. “And now you must keep playing. This is your existence, Celeste. Playing pretend for another man. I hope it's a game you're ready to play for the rest of your life. If you ever stop, both of us lose... but your loss will be greater.”

I knew what he meant.

He
would lose face to the men who bought his 'goods' and spread his name fondly.

But I would be thrown aside by my new husband.

I would be killed.

From his pocket, he drew a syringe. “For the pain,” he said, looking at my bandages. There was no way to know if he did it out of kindness, for he claimed louder and louder that he took care of me due to pure greed. I was his product, the proof of his family's lineage. Giving me to Vitaly meant more to him than anything I could offer.

Leonide claimed he didn't care. He crowed it from the roof tops, battled to make me believe his every word. But, as I fell asleep under the crushing weight of the drugs, I fought for one last castle in the sky; the memory of Marat, how Leonide's jealousy had looked me in the eye.

I had seen into his head that night.

It's more than my body he lusts for.

It kept my hope alive.

****

T
he scar on my arm was obvious evidence of my escape. It had healed well, the stitches thin and even. I didn't recall the doctor putting them in; I didn't like the holes in my memory.

Leonide let me stay in his room while I recovered. He was there when I woke, and as far as I knew, there when I slept. Always in that chair, the sentinel that guarded my world.

The drugs came less and less, until I endured the gnawing desire to scratch at the scar without medicine to temper it. That was the day he brought out the leash.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I looked warily between the leather strap he had stretched between his fists and his expectant smile. “You're not going to walk me like a dog, are you?”

“You've gained a lot of your spark back,” he observed. The sound of the leash snapping like a belt startled me. “The time left to prepare you is dwindling. Vitaly said he'd accept you as you were, but that was when he thought you were his cookie-cutter American dream.” His eyebrows lowered. “We know the truth, he doesn't.”

I swallowed loudly. “You expect me to somehow sneak away to bleach my roots in secret. Without him realizing.”

“You fooled me. You'll find a way to fool him.”

My attention went back to the leash. “So what's that for?”

“In case he discovers your ploy.” Leonide thumbed the glossy leather. “Vitaly isn't known to be forgiving. However, if I can mold you into perfection in every other way... he may look aside on the day he discovers his wife isn't what he thought.”

He wanted to ship me off as fast as possible, before. Now he's back to striving to train me.
If Leonide thought death lay in my path, was he working to prevent it?
He could save me by not sending me to Vitaly at all,
I thought bitterly. “What man has his wife wear a leash?”

“Some men enjoy debasing their women.” Darkness twinkled in his smile; a hint of the creature I'd been living with, the part he'd let slide out of view for some unknown reason. “But this isn't meant for that. Not quite.” Moving close, he held out his palm. “Leaving you alone, even locked up, hasn't helped tame you. When I'm beside you, you seem to soften.”

I snapped my eyes to the silver hook on the end of the strap. “Please don't put that around my throat.”

He chuckled, digging into his pocket. “If I wanted to collar you, you couldn't stop me. But, that isn't my goal.” The small, black cuff was strapped around my wrist. The leash hooked into place, a small padlock making the fixture permanent.

Turning my arm, I felt the constricting material. Trying to remove it would be a waste of time. “If I'm in here with you, I can't clean, I can't cook. Isn't that a waste of my skills?”

Standing straight, Leonide locked the other end of the leash to the frame of the bed. “The skills Vitaly cares about most have little to do with your chores. You know how to do those, anyhow.”

Jiggling the leash, I gauged the length. I'd be able to walk barely into the bathroom, but not capable of going out into the hall.
I know what he's worried about.
The computer sat further away than I'd seen it last. He'd replaced the keyboard, a fact that sank into my stomach like jagged gravel.

Leonide saw where I'd glanced. “Yes. I want you here where I can see you at all hours, influence you, work with you. I'm not going to let you try anything else.” He rubbed the bridge between his eyes. “One bloody nose was enough.”

Chewing inside my cheek, I shifted on the bed. “So I'm going to be your personal whore.”

Snorting, he reached down, stroked my scalp. “We have to start over, sweet girl.” Finger coiled, yanked at my roots until I gasped. “It's 'your personal whore,
sir
.'”

Fire bloomed from the top of my head, rushed into my loins. The way he said 'whore' in that liquid accent of his, it woke my body; left me dizzy.
Yes, I am twisted. I'm a fucking wreck, getting excited by this.
But it felt wonderful in an oddly familiar way, having him fawning over me like this.

If I can't convince him I want to stay with him with my words...

Maybe my body can explain for me.

“Sir.” The single word was a perverse treat. “You're right. I'm going to be your personal whore, sir.”

His hand loosened. Had I surprised him? Letting me go, he stood before me and visibly gathered himself. “I think you're mocking me. Let's put it to the test.” Leonide scanned me over. “Take off your clothes.”

A wisp of excitement danced in my heart. I'd done this before with him; as challenges went, it was nothing. Dressed in a strappy pink sundress, I scrunched it to my waist. My calves hung over the edge of the bed, toes not touching the floor; perched on a bridge and ready to toss bread to the fish below.

Leonide's eyes said he was famished.

I ran into a problem quickly. Tugging the garment over my head, messing my hair, it dangled on my arm with the leash in the way. In nothing but pale yellow lingerie, I gave him an imploring look. “I think I need help, sir.”

The blade shone like a new sun. I'd forgotten about that knife; now, he lowered it to the cloth, cut it free. The shredded dress fell to the floor. “Would you like more help?” He leaned over me, one knee on the bed by my hip. The flat side of the knife kissed my shoulder.