Merciless Love: A Dark Romance(71)

“Yeah. Sorry as shit I'm late, big guy. Come on. Your aunt's waiting in the truck.”

Evan groaned, and I knew he was picking up his long lost son. I didn't dare look back. The reunion   would've killed me, and Borzia seemed like the kind of man who'd attack at any little sniffle – especially if it was a happy one.

He released my hand when we were at the car door. I jerked it away and rubbed it, noticing the sharp impressions he left on my wrist.

“Get in, puta. You're my property now.”

I ducked to do as he asked. The AC was all the way up, and the car's the frigid interior stung my face. Apparently, I hadn't moved fast enough. Borzia lifted one leg and kicked at my butt. Hard.

I went flying forward and squealed in surprise as I crashed across the padded leather seats. Didn't have time to straighten up before he was on me, dragging me across his lap while one of his men slammed the door shut.

Lunatic hands tore at my hair, fisting it, one jerk away from ripping it off my scalp. My breath came heavy and hot.

I wanted to spit in this bastard's face.

“A few ground rules before we get to my house, whore. Number one: you are my property, and property has no rights. I don't care what he had to say to break you and bring you here. Forget anything that conflicts with my word. You'll only listen to the words that come from the lips of your new master.” His free hand slid down my neck, as if he were trying to decide whether to enjoy my skin or choke me. “Two: I will hurt you. Cole had limits on what he could do to prevent you from becoming damaged goods. I have none.”

One more jerk and I was up in the seat, jagged but upright. Borzia cleared his throat.

How many other girls had to suffer through this script? It was an act, well rehearsed abuse meant to make me breakdown and cry. Evan warned he'd probably do something like this.

I was amazed because I was ready. I gave him nothing, and the nasty little smile he wore curled with disappointment. I tried to hide the hatred in my eyes, but I wouldn't give him fear, none of what he wanted most.

“You're not fully broken, are you, bitch?” The English slur sounded strange on his evil lips. “I should've known he wouldn't do his job like a man. A real man wouldn't have ended up crawling on his hands and knees for me in the first place...”

The car was rumbling along on the gravel road now, toward the palace he had tucked back in the country. I bobbed gently in my seat, just staring, trying to hold a few inches of precious space between us.

Just a little longer. I pursed my lips, imaginary heat from the poison licking them.

As soon as he let his guard down, I'd try to kiss him, but not before we were inside. I needed to be alone with him, well and truly alone. And Evan needed a solid hour to get to me.

My eyes flicked to the cheap silver watch he'd given me before we departed. If there was one thing Borzia couldn't stand, it was being ignored.

“Fucking bitch! Are you mute?”

He backhanded my face in one brute jerk. The whole world exploded in white hot pain. For the first time, I whimpered.

When my head stopped spinning, I turned toward him, and sickly realized I was clutching at the leather seat, as far from him as I could get.

Oh, God. My instincts weren't going to allow me to suffer with a brave face. Anger flooded my veins, mostly aimed at myself.

I forced myself to look at him, though I had a damned good idea what I'd find. No surprise: he was smiling, pushing his shallow breath through cracked lips around his small sharp teeth.

“No man ever hit you like that, did he?” Borzia laughed. “Sweet mindless thing...now you're beginning to understand! I'm going to tear you to fucking pieces, and mercy is a word I don't understand. You, puta, are going to scream bloody murder in my arms like all the others. Your wretched flesh is nothing but a symphony to me, and I am the conductor.”

Arrogant. Condescending. Psychopath.

After living in Beacon Grove and then in Evan and Izzy's bipolar home, separating the crazies from sound minds wasn't easy. But my stomach twisted when I studied his face. Deep down inside, I knew I was looking at a psycho with way more power than any diseased mind like his should ever have.

Hell of a kink in our plan. Everything about him was irrational and unpredictable. I didn't have a clue how I was ever going to get my lips on his...

“Speak to me, bitch,” he growled. “Cry. Beg. Let out all the torture eating you up inside. I can see it in your shiny little eyes. You want to hurt.”

Just one way out of this: you have to exhaust him. If he's tired and uncoordinated, unable to run on his monstrous energy, he'll let his guard down.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't see him anymore, but I felt his sinister smile waning, turning to an irate frown.

I wouldn't give in, wouldn't give him what he wanted if I could help it.