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To my surprise, he doesn’t get angry or throw me against the sink. Instead, he lets go of my hair and cups my face in bothhands. “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” he whispers as he wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “Look at me, darling. Look at me.”
I do. I know it’s a trap, but dammit, I look up at him, meeting his gaze.
“I mean what I said.” His voice is gentle, like he’s actually treating me like a lover. It’s weird. Unsettling. “I am—” He kisses one cheek softly. “—going—” Another kiss on the other cheek. “—to break you.”
I stiffen. He smiles and smooths away the hair still sticking to my face.
“And I am going to enjoy the way you kick and scream beneath me as I do.” He grabs the hair at the back of my head with one hand and uses it as leverage to drag me over to the bed. “I want your fight,umnitsa. I want your fire.”
No. No, no, no. Not now.
He can’t do this to me now. I’m not… I can’t…
Demyen’s face keeps flashing in my mind. He hates me. Demyen hates me. He wants nothing to do with me, and has no issue with everything Master told him he wanted to do to me.
So why does this feel like such a betrayal against him?
“No!” I cry out suddenly. I brace my feet on the edge of the bed, shoving back and making Master stumble. And even though his hand in my hair twists and pulls painfully, it’s still a small victory for me. “You can’t!”
Master growls and throws me hard onto the bed. He flips me onto my stomach and with one smooth yank of my skirt, lands a searing blow from his palm onto my ass.
Stars burst in my eyes.
I can’t even properly scream. My mouth just hangs open as the heat and the sting spreads across my skin. And before I can suck in another deep breath, he does it again to the other side.
This time, a sob chokes out. I try to curl up into myself, but Master simply uses that angle to yank me off the bed by my legs and drops me to the floor. The wind tears out of me, and I have to lie there for a moment just to remember how to breathe. Or see.
“Yes, the fuck I can.” He says it so calmly, like he’s scolding a small child. He uses his foot to roll me onto my back. “You owe me, Clara Everett. You fucking owe me, you owe my son, and I’m going to take every drop of your repayment from your body, soul, and mind.”
I shudder with fear and disgust, but I don’t give in to his taunts. I refuse. Because if I give up on myself now, then I’m giving up on my baby. There’s still a faint chance I’m reunited with Willow again in this life… and I won’t let that glimmer of hope disappear.
Sothat’swhen I fight back.
That’swhen I launch myself off the mattress and slam into his back with a furious shriek.
The impact actually makes him stumble forward. I use that to my advantage and just lose my absolute shit all over him. I claw him, bite him, pull his hair, rip at his beard. When I sink my nails into his face and yank,hard, he roars with pain and I feel the warm, satisfying trickle of blood on my fingertips.
He manages to throw me off his back, but not as hard as he probably wants to. I’m able to rebound pretty quickly, and I dodge to one side when he lunges at me.
I see one of the end table lamps sitting nearby. I yank it, cord and all, and swing it as hard as I fucking can at his head.
I chose well, apparently, because instead of shattering like a normal ceramic lamp, it clangs sickeningly against his skull.
Master drops to the floor, already unconscious. Blood trickles from his ear as well as his face.
Maybe he’s dead. I’m not sure. I’m not exactly ready or willing to check.
What I do know is he’s out cold, even if temporarily, and I need to make the most of this unexpected break.
I can’t rip this stupid maid’s uniform off me fast enough. I definitely don’t care if I tear it into shreds in the process; it’s a shame I don’t have the time or supplies to burn the fucking monstrosity.
Rummaging through the dresser drawers and the closet only manages to give me options that all belong to Mr. Zakrevsky—I refuse to call him “Master” now—but I’m going to make do with what I have. A button-down shirt, jeans that are way too big for me, and a belt to make sure they don’t fall down every other step will be enough to get the hell out of here.
I take one more peek through the closet and sigh with relief. They’re too big, but this pair of slippers will work until I can get something better.
This is a ground floor room, which probably wasn’t the best choice for someone trying to overlord his control over rebelliousslaves like me.Tough shit,is all I think with one last glance at the unconscious-or-possibly-dead body of my captor as I flip the latches of the small window.
There’s a small garden bed below the windowsill, but at least it’s not cacti. I whisper a quick apology to the delicate blossoms when they crumple under my feet.
