Twisted Together

He chuckled softly. “You’re mine for eternity, esclave. But the next few days belong to putting our monsters to rest.”

He pulled away, holding up his hand. Wrapped in his fingers was a black length of fabric. His eyebrow rose as he dangled the blindfold. “Ready?”

No.

Yes.

I don’t know.

I sucked in a breath.

I nodded.

Permission granted.

Q attacked me.

I never knew how Q got me out of the hotel without rousing suspicion. I never knew if he wrapped me in a sheet or dressed me in clothes or carried me out naked. I would never find out how he orchestrated something so terrible all in the name of love.

All I knew was horror.

Cold, aching, howling horror.

He’d told the truth about making me believe. The moment he launched, I forgot everything we’d just agreed and drowned. Drowned in fear, memories, the horrible past.

I couldn’t stop from fighting.

I was incapacitated from fighting.

Q gave himself over to his monsters, embracing the role of kidnapper. We stepped into our nightmares, letting them swallow us whole.

“Stop squirming and I won’t hurt you,” he hissed in my ear, sounding entirely swallowed by darkness.

I tried to reply but he stuffed a gag into my mouth, obliterating my cries.

My mind jumped into insanity. My lungs grasped for useless air.

Together we spiralled into a void.

The tower I’d knocked down so many times shot into formation, giving me no choice but to step aside and let the large, circular prison segment my mind. It crumbled upright, reversing its demise to rise from the dust of its foundations, soaring high.

Q’s fingers wrapped around my throat, clutching my windpipe.

The tower beckoned, waving flags of safety, serenity. No!

Q squeezed, accelerating my hyperventilation.

The need to hide was an unbearable call. The single door in the tower swung wide, hinting at solitude and silence.

I took a step toward sanctuary. Toward temptation. I wanted to shut off completely.

Q was no longer my master. He was my nightmare.

His lips descended on my ear, delivering the final blow. “Welcome to my kingdom. I’m going to make you scream.”

My mind raced for the tower, but it was too late.

Q’s fingers cut off my air. Black spots danced, blending with the blindfold. My vision succumbed and I surrendered to the dark.

I woke in my kidnapper’s arms.

Gagged, bound, and blindfolded, the only sense I had available was hearing. Wet slaps of an ocean in the distance, chirps of waking birds, the rustle of tussock, and crunch of gravel. Q’s arms stayed locked around me, keeping me floating above the ground.

My tower loomed fully erect in my mind, waiting solemnly for me to return to its unfeeling hub. The temptation was strong, but Q’s sleek muscles moved against my side, rocking me with every step. I made a promise to him. A promise that I would never shut him out again—no matter what happened.

I intend to keep that promise.

My skin prickled with a chilly sea breeze, but only on my arms and ankles. I’d been bundled into something warm—fluffy. The blindfold hid any hope of seeing where we were and the gag halted my questions. Panic existed like liquid fear pumping thick in my blood.

“You’re ours now, puta.”

I cringed at the memory. No matter what Q did to make me whole again, I had to remember one thing. One fundamental crucial thing. This was Q. The man I loved with every fibre. He wouldn’t sell me, rape me, or break my mind with drugs.

Are you sure?

My heart raced as the outside world suddenly changed to muffled and hushed. The heavy weight of a building I couldn’t see wrapped around us, masking Q’s footsteps with a thick carpet.

In my mind I tried to visualise a quaint home where only softness and healing existed but I couldn’t avoid the more likely scenario of pain and fear. Room after room we travelled, Q’s body heat both relaxing and scaring me. His arms and stomach tensed, carrying me down a flight of stairs. The air temperature was cooler as we descended. It felt heavier down here, as if the weight of the unseen building was a tomb.

More muffled footsteps. I lost touch with common-sense. I hovered as if by magic. Then Q’s shoes echoed on tiles, coming to a stop in a room smelling faintly of juniper.

I gasped as Q released his hold, swinging my legs downward to connect with textured flooring. My feet were bare, toes digging into the rough tiles like an anchor. The fluffy warmth around me tickled my legs as it shifted with my body.

Not saying a word, Q grabbed my bound wrists, undoing the tight material holding them pinned. I ached for connection. I wanted a hug, a whisper, something to keep my fear at bay. I needed reminding of his love and the reasons why we were doing something so utterly dangerous.

But I got nothing.

He hoisted my arms upward, securing them onto some sort of apparatus from the ceiling. My lungs strained, breathing hard through my nose. The helplessness of hanging—gagged, blindfolded, and completely at his mercy—sent a flurry of bricks toward me, forming into a path, leading to my tower.

No. I’m strong enough.

Every muscle tensed, waiting for a whip or some horrible pain, but Q drifted away. No sound. No body heat. His presence fading into the ether.

The tower became my enemy rather than friend—beckoning too hard, filling my mind with the need to run.

Step inside and no longer care. Step inside and hide.

I squeezed my eyes, fighting the seduction. I had to be strong enough. I was strong enough. Q asked me to trust him—I wouldn’t run. I was done running.

Seconds ticked on without me; I didn’t know how long I stood there. Time played tricks with me, delivering false memories of Rio and Mexico. White Man had never been my capturer—it had been Q all along. Q drugged me. He beat me.

I clamped down on the gag, forcing myself to chase away the lies. I focused instead on the iciness of my hands from lack of blood and the unrelenting ache in my shoulders from being trussed. I wanted to sit. I wanted to roll my spine and stretch. But all I could do was hang and wait like an animal headed to slaughter.

Harsh fingers touched my cheek.

I jolted, cursing my heart cannonballing around my chest. Q undid the gag, pulling it free from my mouth. I groaned in relief, wiggling my jaw, lubricating my dry tongue with saliva.

His fingers clamped around my chin, pressing against my lips. “Take this.”

I stiffened, trying to move my face from his probing fingers. My eyes remained veiled by the blindfold; I yearned for sight. I needed to know where we were. I needed to latch onto Q and know I wasn’t alone.