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My stomach revolts at the way he said it, and I stagger toward the room Jack would have assigned Kira. My mother’s old suite. The man knows how to rub salt in a wound.
Loosh accompanies me to the end of the hall. “There was no need to post a guard at her door,” he says cryptically before turning to lurk in the shadows once more.
“Thank you,” I whisper in his direction.
He must have meant to soothe my mind, by telling me I can see her without being caught, but all I can do is wonder why the hell a guard isn’t needed.
Did Jack sedate her, so she wouldn’t escape? Or so she couldn’t claw his eyes out while he fucked her? A full-body shudder hits me, at the thought of what he could have done to her without her knowing.
Is not knowing better or worse?
I pick up my pace and let myself into her suite. “Kira?”
The room is dark, the only light coming from a small gap in the curtains. A slim strip of moon glow streaks across the floor, barely touching the gloom.
From the far corner comes a soft, shuddering sigh. “Is it you?” Her voice holds a slight tremor, and my heart wants to fucking break.
“It’s Quin. I’m here, baby.” I feel along the wall for the light switch, but I fill with regret the moment I flick it on.
He tied her to a fucking footstool. Bent her over it and bound her limbs to each of its legs, to keep her mountable. Andlefther.
I rush to her side, to unravel the tightly knotted ropes that hold her.
She’s limp. Draped over the footstool, her head remains bowed, and her dark hair hangs down, covering her face.
“I’ll get you out, baby. Hold on.”
She shakes her head but doesn’t look up. “Stop. He’ll know you’ve come to me, then. Just do what you need to, and then leave me here. Just as I am. I slipped a crushed sedative in his drink, but I don’t know when it’ll wear off. You have to do it now, Quin. We don’t have time.”
“Kira—”
“Quin.I would fucking slap you if I could. Don’t make this harder. If you want to help me, keep your promise.” She curves her spine, to raise her ass into the air. “Remember that letter you wrote me, about tying me down and filling me, until cum dripped down my legs. I liked that letter, Quin. Give me that letter. I’ve pushed out all I can of him, and I’m ready for you.”
Stunned and appalled by absolutely everything that has happened and is still happening, I don’t understand what she means until I move behind her and see a splattering of cum on the floor. My father’s.
“I pushed it out,” she whispers, over and over, until I pick her up and cradle her in my arms, footstool and all.
She’s so absent, it strikes more fear and panic in me, alongside a great desperation to help her. I forget my own pain, as I carry her away from her corner of torture. All I feel are the pieces of my heart, slipping away when she refuses to look at me.
I can’t ask what he did. I don’t want to find out. I can barely contain my rage at what I do know.
And I can’t kill him without killing her. I need to learn every detail there is to know about that.
“You have to fuck me,” she whispers, when I settle her onto the bathroom floor and cover her with towels from the heated rail, to keep her warm. “He’s definitely breeding me. It was written in the part of the contract I skimmed. There were so many pages. I was pressed for time…” She whimpers softly, and I want to do the same, but I push it all down so I can gently rub her back and make soothing noises.
“You have to scoop out his cum and replace it with yours,” she says firmly. “You’re younger. Your sperm will be stronger and faster. They’ll be more numerous and virile; have higher motility. It’ll be your baby.” She says that last part in a tone that suggests she’s drawing on all her knowledge and doing what she can, to convince herself of it.
“Kira,” I say softly, stroking her hair.
She flinches, and I withdraw my hand.
“It has to be yours,” she says. “I have to carry the baby to term and raise it. That’s part of the deal. The fucking fine print. I can’t carry his child, Quin. I can’t. It has to be yours. I have to believe that. Do everything in your power, to make it possible. Make it so I can love my baby, Quin.”
I smooth my palm down her trembling body, and then fold myself over her, holding her while she cries. “I will, Kira. I’ll give you what you need. I promise.”
When she begins to calm, I slowly unravel myself from the embrace and stroke her back. “I don’t want to make anything worse for you. Are there things I should avoid doing?”
“Don’t pull my hair,” she says immediately. It’s a punch in the guts. I kiss her head, doing my best to contain my discomfort while I validate her far more damaging trauma. “I won’t pull your hair, baby. Anything else?”
