Page 90 of Fighting My Demons

"Shh, shh, doll. Why are you crying? Don't be upset. I am here now. We can finally be together. I got you back. Lucky for me, I have nothing but time, and now you. If you can't kill him, I can do it for you," he purrs, stroking my face while his hand grabs my breast, fondling it.

I swallow, and he dips his head, kissing my lips before stuffing his tongue in my mouth. I try my hardest to remain still and not thrash; I don't want to piss him off, and I need to convince him to let me out of the cuffs if I stand any chance at escape. But then what of my brother? Could I leave him behind? I don't think I could despite everything he has done.

Tank pulls away and smiles at me. "Once I get rid of my brother, we can go home. I won't let anyone take you from me again."

This man is utterly bonkers if he thinks I want to be with him. He is clearly unhinged.

"First things first, I will get rid of your brother. Hopefully, by that time, Latham or one of his merry men would have located you, then get rid of them, and we are home free; I have a nice little place tucked away for us, don't you worry," he says, getting up off the bed.

He moves toward the closet, and my eyes widen when he opens the door before reaching his hand in to grab Brian.

"I'll do it," I blurt, and his hand stops.

Tank peers over at me. "I don't mind it, doll. I know he is your brother; I will only make him scream a little, I promise."

"No, I… I want to do it," I tell him while trying to slow my heart.

"Are you sure?"

I nod. "Yes, but I don't… I don't know how. Will you show me?" I ask him, and he smiles brightly.

"Anything for you, doll. I have just the thing," he says, walking out of the room.

I watch him go before looking at my brother.

"Brian!" I whisper.

"Brian!" I try again but get no response when Tanks comes back in. He has a knife in his hand.

"Now, you won't try to run, will you?" he asks, and I shake my head, my eyes on the knife he is carrying.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Tank tilts his head to the side to observe me before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. His tongue invades my mouth, and I fight the urge to gag. He tastes like charcoal and soot, nothing enticing about him.

"You aren't very convincing," he mumbles against my lips.

I have a feeling he is playing with me, trying to make me prove I lied. It takes serious control to fight the urge to rip my lips from his. I lift my head and kiss him back, which surprises him. It is at that moment I realize he is indeed testing me. He grabs my breast, squeezing it, the tip of the knife pressing under my chin and digging into my skin. However, it isn't very sharp.

Tank kisses me harder with a lewd groan which repulses me, but I shove it down and keep my feelings neutral; it is the best I can do without giving myself away. My marking taints burn fiercely and make my eyes water at the stinging sensation, wondering what that means. Does that mean they are trying to find me? Or does it mean something else? Tank's tongue assaults mine before he lifts his leg, placing it between mine and forcing them open. My eyes fly open as he climbs onto the bed. His eyes are closed as he kisses me, bearing his weight down between my legs as he forces his way between them.

My ankles strain painfully from the restraints, and I think he is about to break them. The odd angle makes me pull my lips from his and gasp. Tank growls, looking down at me, the knife's blade now resting on my cheek.

"My ankles," I choke out, and he looks over his shoulder at my feet.

"Oh, sorry, doll, got carried away," he murmurs, quickly pecking my lips while I try to catch my breath.

Tank climbs off me, his hand running down the length of my body to my ankle as he undoes the cuff. He leans over to undo the other one. The knife is between his teeth as he fiddles with the cuff.

Tank then stands beside me before placing the knife on my chest while he unrestrains my hands. When one wrist is released, I twirl my wrist, knowing if I go for the blade, it would alert him, and my other hand is still restrained, so I wouldn't get far.

"Isn't that knife a little blunt?" I ask him, my eye averting to my chest where it sits on my cleavage.

"No, you just need to use enough pressure and the right angle," he says, cupping my face with his hand.

I grab his wrist now both hands are free before making myself sick as I lift my head and kiss his lips. Tank growls, kissing me back fiercely, approving of my affections.

His strange actions make me wonder what’s happened to this man for him to be so unhinged and to think I would reciprocate any of the feelings he seems to have for me. Tank grabs the knife and my arm, pulling me off the bed to stand on my feet. He turns me to face my brother before stepping behind me.