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She breathed in and out slowly, doing her best to calm her speeding heart.
“Count the lashes,” Carter ordered someone. “Anything less than fifteen and you’ll face the whip next.”
A whimper of fear spilled from the lips of the woman Carter had signaled out. Fifteen lashes. It would take all she had to make it through them all so close on the heels of the beating she’d taken a few nights ago. The whip whistled through the air, and Helen fought not to tighten her muscles up with anticipation. It only hurt worse if she did. Instead, she clenched her teeth, absorbing the blow as she forced the scream to stay locked in her throat.
“You’re supposed to be counting,” he snapped. “Let’s start again.”
Another whimper but Helen no longer cared. Carter began again twice more before the girl remembered to keep counting. By the tenth strike, Helen barely held in her scream.
“Time for the barb, little bear.”
She was the one whimpering then, but Carter merely laughed. This time she couldn’t stop her body from clenching, and when the strike landed, it tore through the muscle of her shoulder, laying her bare. Her scream echoed around the chamber along with Carter’s laugh and the whistle of the whip.
Chapter Seven
Fletch awoke to his mate’s blood-curdling scream. He reached for her immediately, crooning in her ear as she begged for something to stop.
“I’ve got you, baby. You’re not there, anymore. Feel the bed beneath us. The sheets on your skin. Feel me, baby. I’m right here, and I’m never letting you go.”
Slowly, she came around. Her eyes jerked open as she took in the room, searching every corner before shuddering against him.
“I thought… I couldn’t…”
“Breathe with me, baby. You’re safe. You’re with me. No one will touch you again.”
She nodded, gulping down air even as she reached around to run her fingers along the parts of her back and shoulders she could touch. That one gesture told him what she’d dreamed of. A nightmare of her time in captivity. He swore he’d visit Carter before the day’s end and show the man the same amount of mercy he’d shown Helen and the other women. None.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“There’s no reason to be,” Fletch assured her. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t have nightmares.”
A knock sounded on the door, but no one pushed it open.
“Fletch?” Milo called from the other side.
“It’s my brother, Milo. He’ll go away if I tell him to.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Embarrassed but better now that I’m awake.”
“Come in!” Fletch called out, and Milo had the door open instantly, scanning the room before his gaze settled on Fletch and Helen in the bed.
“Wanted to make sure you guys were good, and this was waiting outside the door,” he murmured as he stepped inside, dropping a duffle. “Some clothes and toiletries for you.”
Helen snorted. “Thanks. I hope I didn’t disturb the whole house. Just my subconscious taking me back to a time of great joy.”
Milo smiled. “Always knew Fletch would end up with a screamer.”
Fletch’s jaw dropped. Helen’s gaze flew to Milo’s, and Fletch watched her gaze fill with mirth right before a laugh rose from her belly to fill the room. Milo joined in, and soon, they were both wiping tears from their eyes. Fletch couldn’t have loved his brother more than he did in that moment.
“Oh, my God,” Helen cried as she tried to control her laugh. “A screamer.” She snorted again and went off into another peal of laughter.
“I like this one,” Milo told him. “You keeping her?”
“He’s stuck with me,” Helen offered before Fletch could respond. “We said our vows last night.” Her eyes twinkled. “Right before he made me scream.”
Milo grinned. “I have a sister then. Nice to meet you.”
“Helen,” Fletch offered.
