Brendan needed a full minute to recover his silver tongue. “She speaks. This is new, yes?”
“Since earlier,” Sam said smoothly. “So you see your worrying wasn’t necessary. She’s already getting better here.”
“I still say she should come back with me.” For once he turned and looked quite seriously at Sam. “What about the people she left behind? Her family. For all you know she has a lover waiting for her, and here you are fucking her in a shithole cabin.”
“That’s enough,” Sam said, his voice soft and menacing. “I let you give me a hard time, but I’m not going to let you disrespect her.”
“You’re not going to let me disrespect her? Oh, that’s rich. She’s a dirty little sex doll you found washed up, used up, half dead, and instead of sending her to people who might actually care about her, you dress her up in Amanda’s old clothes and give her commands like she’s a dog.”
“Get out.”
“Brother,” he started.
“Now,” Sam said with more than enough heat to show he meant it. If he had spoken to her that way, she would have cowered. Even now, she cowered.
Brendan took his time getting up. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked between her and his brother. She tried to ignore that, didn’t let their gazes his meet. He would leave and she would be fine. He would leave, and she would go back to being Sam’s recycled sex doll. She wanted to die.
“Fine, brother. Choose the girl, again. See if it turns out any better this time.”
The door slammed shut behind Brendan, belying his coolly-spoken parting shot. Sam wouldn’t look at her.
“Sir,” she said. “Master?”
“Don’t call me that.”
She recoiled. He was mad at her.
“Please,” she tried.
“My name’s Sam. That’s what you can call me. Say it. Say please Sam.”
“Please, Sam,” she whispered.
He looked at her then, but she almost wished he hadn’t. She saw in his eyes disgust and fury. She saw herself turned away, cast off once again. The empty plastic doll left on the floor. Then he veiled his expression. “I’m going to go work. I need to just…you stay in the house. I mean it this time. Stay.”
Hmm. Like a dog, indeed.
She stayed in her seat as he left the cabin and locked her inside. She really shouldn’t mind. After all, she hadn’t forgotten what they had done to her, but the more time that passed the quieter her fear.
Her sense of self had returned, but it wasn’t a switch. Not off, then on, but something that stood and stretched and grew stronger with each kind word and gentle touch. She should be content to wait as his feet, to be put away when he no longer wanted her, to be shut out of his thoughts and emotions; she wasn’t.
It was like she had been trapped at the bottom of the ocean in a hellish Atlantis. Then she had broken free and started swimming. Still deep, everything had been muted. She’d swum higher and higher and now she could see the surface, kicking furiously, dying for a single breath.
She didn’t know what was at the top. She only knew that she had to get there.
Despite her uncertainty, she wouldn’t disobey. She still worried that someone might be looking for her, and it was too dark to see. And even with her newfound strength, she didn’t mind submission. There was a clarity here, a peace. She had only minded the way Brendan had spoken about her. She only worried he might be correct.
Chapter Seven
She woke in the dark, a book in her slack hands and a blanket over her knees. She must have drifted off, but where was Sam? Harsh breathing was too familiar, suddenly. A dark presence that taunted with its stillness.
Her throat tightened. “No.”
“Yes,” Brendan murmured. “See? You know me, even if you think you don’t. You know who your master is.”
The words made her breath catch, strange and meaningless to me. “Sam will come.”
Hands enclosed her wrists, warm and firm. “What will he see? You submitting to me. Didn’t he tell you about his last girlfriend?”
Oh God. Sam.
“He won’t want anything to do with you then.” Lips coasted over her shoulder, bringing goosebumps to her skin. “Where will you go? All alone in the woods. I’ll take care of you.”
It sounded like a threat. Would Sam hear her if she called to him?
“Come on, little girl.” There was the pain she expected, almost wanted. Deserved. His fingers dug into my skin, pushing her down. “Fight me. I liked it when you fought.”
But she didn’t. She let him undress her, let him push her down onto her hands and knees, let him cup her breasts and squeeze. What could she do? Nothing, nothing at all. He was too strong, and she was too scared.