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The room she was stuck in was worse than both. A cavernous space full of devices designed to torture and maim, smelling of sex and blood and mold. The rough stone-hewn walls were damp, and she swore she could hear the screams of those who’d been there before her bouncing between them in an endless cry for help.
“I’m sorry, Connie, but you have no idea what she’s going through or where her head has taken her.” Another voice, dark and familiar, joined in. Someone crouched beside her, the only thing clear about him was the white shock of hair. “The worst punishments were never done out in the open. Dominic had a favored space for that, away from the eyes of the staff and any…visitors who came to examine the stock, so to speak.”
Fingers hooked under her chin, lifting her head and encouraging her gaze to rise.
“If he took you into the dungeon, you didn’t come back out whole. He made you pay in blood and tears, until you almost ran out of both. I ended up there a few times, and I prayed for death far too often. Look at me, darling,” the voice crooned softly. “Tell me why you’re here, what you did to deserve this. Tell me, and it all ends now.”
“Jasper.”
“Quiet, Connie. I’ve been here. I know what it takes to pull myself out of it, and she is not strong enough yet. The first few times are the worst. She has to balance the past and the present and reconcile herself with both.” Jasper lowered his voice until it was almost menacing. “Don’t make me ask again, girl. Admit what you did, and I will let you walk away.”
Caera’s head bobbled unsteadily, the weight too much to hold upright. “I don’t know. Please don’t hurt me anymore. I’d tell you if I knew.”
The arms around her became a straitjacket as she writhed. “This isn’t right, J.”
“Just trust me, Saul. One last chance, girl. Tell me what you did wrong.”
Her brain backpedaled frantically, scouring her memories for the one that could put an end to the torment. A constant reel of fragments of her past, formally unavailable, but now pouring into her consciousness like streams of molten lava, filling in voids and burning away parts of her that had been formed in self-defense.
With a sob that wrenched her heart from her chest, she hung her head in shame, reverting back to the child she’d once been, the child she’d locked away for her own safety. “I kicked Mother. I-I said no, but she wouldn’t stop, she wouldn’t listen, she—”
Jasper tsked. “Such poor excuses for bad behavior. How old are you now, girl?”
Nausea rose swiftly. “F-Four?”
A collective groan of distress hummed in her ears, but she ignored it.
“Four years of training and you still can’t comprehend the basics. Maybe Rita is right. Maybe you’re worthless to the program, a waste of funding and time.” Disgust stained the words, making her shrivel inside. “Maybe I should put you out of your misery now like the useless fucking bitch you are. Finish the job I’ve already started, and beat the life from your sorry hide.”
She scrambled back, only to be caught in the web of strong arms. Keening, bracing for the next volley of lashes to score more wounds into the ones already bleeding her dry, Caera lifted her arms to defend her face. “No! No, please!”
“Why should I spare you when I have replacements in every fucking room in this house? It’s not like you’re going to grow up into anything other than a whining whore. You’re not going to have friends.” Jasper’s tone changed, adding gentle emphasis to certain words. “It’s not as though you’ll ever know what it means to be happy. God forbid you ever find a man who will love you for who you are.”
The memory she floundered in shimmered. The damp walls with their medieval torch lights flickered in and out of focus, weakening as she spun the words around in her head. Slowly, the phantom pain across her shoulders dissipated, the ghostly trickle of blood on her skin no longer existed.
I do have friends, she thought in bewilderment. I know what it is to be happy with the man who loves me. He loves me for who I am, despite the anxiety and the night terrors.
The illusion clattered into pieces around her, leaving her staring into a pair of eyes the color of blue fire.
I have a brother.
Jasper’s lips curved sadly as he reached out to skim a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “All the way with us now, Caera?”
“D-Did something happen?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Jasper’s pale gaze flicked above her head. “Get her out of here, Saul. She’ll be absolutely fine, but this is when she needs you and a quiet space. An opportune time to show her how good aftercare can be.”
What was going on? Caera scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, frowning as her body ached with the tiniest movement. It felt as though she’d been pelted by a million baseballs fired out of one of those automatic pitching machines…or had really rough sex.
The memory she’d been trapped inside was little more than a bad dream, only the vaguest details filtering through, and even those were starting to blur.
She realized she was settled snugly on Saul’s lap, and that he was sitting on the floor of the barn, holding her like she might slip through his arms and disappear. She grasped Jasper’s palm when he offered it, letting him pull her up, then swayed as Loki gave Saul a hand.
“I scored one of the private rooms,” the younger Dom stated. “Number three. Thane is stocking it with enough sub treats to last you all night. Liam’s taken it off rotation, so you have it for as long as you want.”
A bit unnerved by all the attention centered on her, Caera glanced around nervously. “I don’t know why everyone’s making a fuss. I’m okay.”
Connie, wrapped in a blanket, draped a matching one around Caera’s shoulders. “That’s debatable. Even if, by some miracle, you are…Saul isn’t. I think you knocked ten years off everyone in the club, sweetie.”
