I hoped she’d stand with her quiet friend and stop whatever was about to happen. Instead, her lips spread over sharp teeth. “Don’t let them have all the fun. We could do it.” She put up her fists with a mad laugh. “Just rough her up a little.”
Blondie wrinkled her nose. “Eww, I’m not hitting someone. I might break a nail.” She flashed vibrantly pink-glitter fingernails. “They’re gels, Monique. I spent hours at the salon yesterday getting them done.”
“No one is breaking a nail or resorting to D.I.Y,” Black-haired Witch snapped. “We are ladies, and ladies do not brawl.” Her chin came up. “Ladies deliver vengeance without getting their hands dirty. Therefore, Harold will take care of her. I have no doubt he’ll have a lot of fun teaching her how it feels to have things taken without consent.”
My knees buckled at the darkness in her tone. At the way her eyes glittered at the innuendos barely hidden in such a terrible sentence string.
I didn’t need to be taught.
I already knew.
Knew how it felt over and over again to have personal things taken without consent.
How my body had been used as entertainment for others.
How I’d had no say in it.
The betrayal.
The horrible knowledge I was worthless to the person hurting me.
Oh, my God, what have I done?
They were right.
I’d taken something of theirs without consent. I was just as bad as the assholes who’d hurt me. They had every right to be hurt and angry. I was hurt and angry. I’d been hurt and angry for years.
I wanted to open my mouth and apologise. To assure them that I would never steal again as I knew all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of such theft.
But once again, my throat closed up, hiding my words, silencing my pleas. I wished I’d never used muteness as protection. I wished I could break such a curse and scream.
Then Miranda stabbed me with yet more horror as she murmured, “Harold is ingenious with his punishments. I imagine he’ll come up with something quite unique to remind you that stealing is not okay—” She narrowed her eyes, looking like a serpent ready for her next meal. “—Especially stealing from us.”
The mental images she painted.
The memory of ropes
and chains
and whips
and classical music
and blow jobs
and rapes
and pain.
No!
Falling to gristly knees long since ruined from doing such a thing, I collapsed into submission before them. Clasping my hands together, I fought every safety mechanism and willed my tongue to move.
In jilted begs, I whispered, “I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t mean...I have no excuse. I know what it’s like. I don’t need a lesson. I’ve had too many lessons.” Tears drenched my face without me crying as if my eyes evicted every droplet in preparation for the beating I knew was coming.
I never screamed with Alrik.
I never cried with Alrik.
I wouldn’t do that with this new punishment.
Old habits would never die.
“Please...” I hissed. “Please, don’t do this.”
Blondie and the girl who wasn’t like her friends stumbled back, alarm painting their pretty features.
Blondie switched from cursing me to rationality. “Hey, Miranda...know what? No harm done. We’ve got the cash back. I can cancel my cards. It’s fine...”
“I agree.” The nice girl tugged the black-haired one. “Come on, let’s just go.”
But Miranda shook her off, the same glint in her eye that Alrik used to get glowing brighter. “Nope. What’s done is done. She needs a little payback.” Moving forward, she held her phone to her ear and smiled as whoever she’d rung answered. “Harold, baby? Yeah, it’s me. Look, I need you to come here. A chick just tried to rob us.” Her smile turned from beastly to downright fatal. “Yep, that’s what I said. I knew you’d understand.” She nodded. “Yep. I’ve told her that you’ll come ‘talk’ to her. Make sure she doesn’t do it again.”
Laughing at something he said, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Okay, baby. See you in five.” Hanging up, she pointed a finger in my face. “And now, we wait. Get ready, bitch. You’re in for a world of pain.”
Chapter Three
Elder
THE OCEAN HAD a power over me that could circumnavigate the mess in my brain better than anything. It was one of the many reasons I’d chosen the sea as my home.
Normally, the chaos from land slipped from my shoulders the moment I stepped on board. Normally, I could breathe a little easier, focus a little better, and pretend to be normal after fighting addictive tendencies.
Normally was the key word.
It wasn’t occasionally or infrequently; it was normally: as in usually, consistently, reliably.
Damn Pimlico had changed that.
Yesterday had been one of the hardest days of my life, and that was saying something after the fuck-ups I’d caused.
Selix had arrived at the hotel. I’d had a joint. And I’d paced until my heart galloped as if I’d jogged for miles trying to decide what to do.
Stay or go?
Accept or deny?
Chase or sail?
She’d left out of some stupid courtesy to help me.
But what if I didn’t want to be helped?
What if I should man the fuck up and help myself, instead of making it her responsibility to enter a world where she had nothing and no one? Why did I have to accept that she’d given me her love and then taken it right out the goddamn door with her?
Selix hadn’t swayed me in either direction. He’d sat flicking through a hotel magazine for hours while I willed the pot in my system to help make a better decision.
And the decisions I came to was...I couldn’t let her do this.
I couldn’t let her put herself in harm’s way for me. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t the only one with a screwed-up brain. Others had what I did, and they lived a normal life. They weren’t fucking pussies, untrusting of doctors or unwilling to try new things.
I would be more like them. I would get my life together. I’d find Pimlico, take her to England without touching her, and by the time we arrived, I would’ve calmed down and be able to be around her without fucking her. Then, once I had her back in my life and knew she was safe, I’d see someone and discuss a regime or pill that could help me. I would take control of my mind so I could deserve everything Pim gave me so purely and selflessly.
It was a plan I could live with.
So, I’d marched from the hotel with Selix in tow and patrolled the streets for hours. Side alleys and main arteries, shops, and restaurants. I kept my eyes searching for a flash of chocolate hair or a glimpse of sensual limbs.
But I couldn’t find her.
Anywhere.
It didn’t matter.
She couldn’t have gone far. She had to be in Monte Carlo. And as the sun set on our first day apart, I settled in for the challenge of tracking her down—confident in the knowledge that I would find her because I wouldn’t fucking stop until I did.
But then my phone had rung.
And the call I’d been dreading finally arrived.