“Fuck you,” she muttered.
I shook my head. “Vulgarity was never a real problem at the Northern Light, but I’ve had quite enough for tonight.”
“Too fucking bad!” Stella’s eyes sent daggers through my heart. “I was wrong to accept your apology. You’re an asshole!”
I reached for her arm. “Sara, stand.” As I pulled her to her feet, she looked back down at the ground. “Tell me, how many lashes per transgression?”
Her jaw clenched as she fought with herself to answer. Finally she whispered, “Five.”
“Now tell me how many times you’ve used vulgarities tonight.”
Her body trembled in my grasp, yet when her eyes fluttered back to mine, her neck straightened with defiance. Raising her chin, she spoke clearly and resolutely. “If you fucking do this, I will press charges. I’ll tell the FBI what a whack-job they have for an agent.”
Undeterred by her threat, I smirked. “Remove your underwear.”
“Fuck you,” she whispered, lowering her chin again to her chest.
I straightened my neck and spoke as I’d been trained to do, as I’d trained others to do. “Vulgarity and disobedience are only two transgressions. I’ve heard you use two vulgarities in the last thirty seconds. As always, the severity of your correction is at my discretion.” I grabbed the waist of her panties and pushed them down. Spinning her around, I unlatched her bra and pulled the straps from her arms. “I recommend you stop saying any more before I decide to give you the accurate number of lashes.”
“Jacob, please don’t do this.” She spun back, her firm breasts pressing against my chest, as she appealed with her gorgeous blue eyes. The left one was a stark contrast, the color of her iris so light compared to the purpled skin surrounding it. Her cheeks were sprouting red blotches as we stood. When I narrowed my gaze, she obediently turned back around. However, her stare never left mine, now glaring at me through the reflection of the mirror. She gripped the edge of the vanity and asked, “Please . . . why?”
I ran the length of the leather through my hands, not allowing myself to sense the despair seeping from her every pore. “Enough questioning.”
Her lips came together, forming a straight line. She didn’t need her mouth to tell me her thoughts. I saw both the pleas and the insults shooting from her eyes.
“You know what to do.”
“I hate you,” she whispered.
I stood unmoved and maintained my stance. As I made Sara wait, her words gave me the strength to continue. With each second her proclamation darkened the remaining shreds of my heart. If making her hate me would save her, then I’d do it. Everything she’d said was right; though I hadn’t wanted a wife, I’d taken one. I was the one who had done this to her. I was the one who had held her hand while she lived in that hell. I couldn’t take her back there, not again.
As I slapped my belt against my hand, the sound echoed throughout the room. Gasping, Sara spread her legs and leaned forward. Just as her cheek contacted the cool vanity, she whispered, “I really do.”
Blonde hair fell over her battered cheek as her body shuddered with tears.
In nine long months she’d awakened something inside me that had been dead for over a decade. I’d suspected what she was capable of doing to me the first time I saw her, when Brother Uriel showed her to me. Now it was time to shut it off. This was different from being in The Light. Taking her back wasn’t saving her. She’d been given to me to protect. It wasn’t up to her. It was my decision. Now that she had the real chance to be free and safe, I wouldn’t take that away from her.
Sara’s lip disappeared between her teeth as she finally shut her eyes. The way the muscles in her legs and behind tensed, I knew she was ready for the correction to commence solely for it to end. The wait was nothing more than part of the game, psychological warfare, and Father Gabriel made sure that every male follower knew how to play.
The reason she was in this position, bent over the vanity, was my fault and Father Gabriel’s teachings. She’d been conditioned too well. If she hadn’t been, Stella would have fought more. The FBI would help her—help Stella—deprogram her. This was for the best, no matter whether she was or wasn’t carrying my child. Nothing about going back to The Light was right.
I bit my cheek, not allowing myself to smile at her latest declaration. She’d said she hated me. It was what I wanted. Lifting my belt, I said, “Good, I’m glad to hear that. Now I’ll give you a reason not to forget it.” I twisted the proverbial knife. “Tell me, Sara.” I leaned above her beautiful body. “Tell me what helps you not forget.”
She pressed her lips together defiantly.
I slowly ran the rough underside of the belt over her bottom, watching her muscles flinch, as if the leather were fire. Even so, she maintained her tight hold on the counter’s edge. “I’m waiting,” I whispered.