Igiggle like a child playing a schoolyard game when Trey throws me over his shoulder before he continues our sprint for the restaurant Nikolai’s surprise party is being held at. I’ve gained some much-needed pounds the past year, so my legs should be more than capable of pumping out the steps needed to beat Justine and Nikolai’s race for the same entrance. They’re just exhausted from the number of times Trey made me come.
Who knew something I once thought was hideous could fill me with so much euphoria, the weakness it arrives with seems inconsequential. Usually, I hate anything that makes me seem scrawny and pathetic. My small stature already has me putting in double the workload of those around me.
I don’t face the same issues when it comes to sex.
When you think about it, orgasming is as intimate as kissing. They’re full of passion, love, and devotion, and more times than not, I feel drunk after every one of them.
Perhaps that’s why my legs don’t work? I can barely stay upright after a glass of wine, so imagine the controversy four back to back climaxes cause.
Once we break through the entrance door of a pricy restaurant, a mere ten seconds after Nikolai and Justine, Trey sets me back onto my feet. Nine months ago, I would have anticipated being punished for making him late. Now, I’m smiling as largely as him. He’s not happy we’re late. He loves my smile as much as me. There have been plenty of times for me to smile the past nine months, but it’s taken almost this long for my fucked-up head to realize it’s okay to show happiness. Trey won’t hurt me because I’m happy. If anything, he’ll probably spoil me more.
“Come on.” He curls his tattoo hand over mine before guiding me through the restaurant brimming with men and women of all ages. “The quicker we get this done and dusted, the faster my head will be back between your legs.”
See? Crude, yet undeniably cultured.
The sweet smell of heat-slicked skin streams into my nose when Trey stops us just in front of Nikolai and Justine. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I was a little tied up.”
As heat creeps across my cheeks, Justine leans in to pop a kiss on my flaming skin. The brightness illuminating my cheeks pales when it dawns on me why the scent of sweat-slicked skin doubled when she leaned forward. It appears as if Trey and I weren’t the only ones seeking solace in modes of transportation tonight.
After inching back, Justine says, “Kristina, hi. How are things? I hope Trey is treating you well?”
“About as well as Nikolai is you,” I reply in Czech, my tone cheeky and somewhat apprehensive. I don’t really know Justine. She doesn’t come to Clarks often. I don’t know if that’s her choice or Nikolai’s, but whatever the reason, we’ve only seen each other in passing the past few months. She’s busy keeping Nikolai’s men out of jail, and my spare time not gobbled up by Trey is used for study. I don’t know what degree I want to do yet, but I’m leaning toward nursing. Dok has his hands full, so I’m sure he’d welcome an additional team member. This way, I’ll remain glued to Trey as long as my heart desires. We can even do that at Clarks if he wants.
Once I learned that the women who prance around Clarks half-naked despite the weather are there of their own accord, I grew to like the idea of Clarks. The women are free to come and go as they please, so I have no issues with how they choose to live their lives.
Like all groups of women, some are polite and friendly. Others are rude and bitchy. Then there are a handful like Ana. It won’t matter how much I stick my neck out for them, they’ll forever place themselves first.
Unfortunately, selfishness is ingrained in some people. Even being a sex-slave didn’t have Ana believing she was my equal. She forever placed herself above me.
I don’t know what happened to Ana, and in all honesty, I don’t care. Trey tells me he’ll find out for me when the time is right, but for now, he wants the focus to stay on me. It’s comments like that that had me almost tiptoeing back toward the dark. The guilt is horrible, but haven’t I been punished enough to let the focus be on me for a change? Nine months ago, I would haveneveragreed with that judgment. Now, I’m a little more open to the idea.
Justine’s smile reveals I’m on the money about her pre-party entertainment with Nikolai, much less the faintest pink hue coloring of her neck. “Good,” she mutters, only the slightest bit embarrassed. “I told you he was a keeper.”
Happy to shift the focus off her, she greets Trey in a similar fashion she did me. My stomach gurgles when she scrubs away a blob of red from Trey’s cheek, believing it’s lipstick. I’m not hungry. My stomach is upset I’ve become so focused on myself lately, I didn’t notice Lester’s blood was on Trey’s face until now.
It dawns on me I must have missed something between Trey and Nikolai when Trey mumbles under his breath, “What? I didn’t have time to shower.”
The smugness in Trey’s eyes grows when Nikolai’s roll skyward. After giving Trey an inconspicuous nudge with his shoulder, Nikolai guides Justine to the other side of the room. I recognize the dark-haired man he’s approaching. He was one of the men who freed the women from captivity, however, his wife seems new to this lifestyle. Her knees knock as obviously as mine when a middle-aged waiter suddenly stops in front of me with a platter full of funky looking bite-size snacks.
“What is it, K?” Trey asks, his voice almost a roar. “Do you recognize him?”
The waiter looks on the verge of pooping his pants when he spots Trey’s murderous glare. I had wondered if Trey’s quest to rid the world of the men who hurt me was circulating beyond his crew. The waiter’s response reveals it is.
The waiter sucks in his first breath in almost thirty seconds when I shake my head. “I’ve never seen him before. It’s just the food he’s holding.” I throw a hand up to clamp my mouth when my reply comes out with a gag. I don’t know what that black beady stuff is on crusty clumps of bread, but it makes my stomach heave.
When he reads the rest of my reply in my eyes, Trey pushes the waiter away from us via a hand to his face before he guides me in the direction opposite the way Nikolai and Justine went. My stomach stops flipping shortly after the fishy-smelling dish is removed from under my nose, but the pounding of my pulse remains, even more so when Trey asks, “When was the last time you bled?”
I peer up at him in both shock and fear. He’d never physically hurt me, but his response when I answer his question could shunt my mental stability back by months. I can’t recall the last time I had my period. Due to inadequate nutrition and a body forced to age backwards, it was absent for months after I was freed from captivity, and it only returned once around four or five months ago, much to Trey’s disgrace. He hated when I got my period even more than when I chose a tattoo that would cover my entire back and half my stomach. He loved the design I had chosen, and its location, he just hated that it took me days to heal between each tattoo session.
“You two good?” Eight asks when Trey races us toward the exit we only just bolted through.
Eight’s brows stitch when Trey doesn’t answer him, and my stomach violently flips. Silence isn’t Trey’s strong point. He was silenced for years, so he doesn’t seek it often. He’s generally only quiet when he’s upset.
Now I wish more than ever that I could speak English. I want to tell him he has nothing to worry about. Even if my period is late, that doesn’t mean I’m pregnant. Achim and Vladimir didn’t just mess up my outsides. They fucked with my insides as well. I can’t fix the damage they did with pretty tattoos and piercings.
My damaged insides are unfixable.
My heart breaks for Trey when he walks us to an all-night drug store two blocks up from the restaurant. He shakes like we’re in the middle of winter as he scans the shelving for a test to confirm if his worst nightmare is coming true.
