Trin could barely speak.
“Then why…how could you… how could you even think of letting me do this?” She gestured at herself—at the way she had nearly taken and penetrated him at his request.
“I told you.” The fierce light in his eyes was for her now and he gripped her by her upper arms, pulling her close. “You own me—body and soul. I’m yours, Mistress. And if this is what you need to do, then by all the Gods, we’ll do it. So why don’t you just fucking get on with it?”
“No!” Trin shoved away from him, tearing herself from his grasp. The phallus within her which had felt strange but intensely sexual before, now seemed abhorrent—an instrument of torture. She reached down and pulled it out, gasping as the unfamiliar length slid from her core. Throwing it to the side she pushed herself to her feet and staggered backwards, trying to get away from the huge Havoc still kneeling by the side of the bed with an awful light burning in his eyes.
“Trin…” His voice was a low, warning growl.
“No, stay away from me!” She shook her head. “I won’t do this to you. I won’t. I don’t care if it costs me my career and my reputation and my relationship with my mother—I don’t care.”
“Trin!” He started to rise to his feet, a strange, intense look in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you…not like that. I’m sorry…I just—”
“No! I don’t want to hear any more. I never want to hear any more.” Turning, she tore open the door and ran from him, ran from the room and the past that stood between them like an insurmountable wall. Ran from his pain and hurt and her own fear and vulnerability.
But no matter how fast she ran, the nightmare followed her—the vision she’d seen the night before—the memory of his suffering and the fact that she had added to it. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t outrun the hurt in his eyes or the pain in his voice when she left him, standing there with his hands outstretched and empty.
* * * * *
Fuck—what’s wrong with me? Why in the Seven Hells did I tell her all that? Why the fuck did I tell her I killed the old Master? And why did I tell her how he used me every night? She hates me now—thinks I’m dirt—trash. Not just trash—fucking dangerous trash. I told her I ripped his throat out with my teeth! Why did I tell her that? Wouldn’t it be enough to just say I killed him without giving details? Fuck!
Thrace paced the floor, running both hands through his hair, trying to understand what had happened, why he had snapped.
Should have played off the dream—told her it was just a nightmare. Never should have admitted it was a true memory, never should have said anything about the past at all.
For years it had isolated him. He’d never told another living soul about his past abuse—not even his first mate and best friend, Solar. Now he understood why. Seeing that horrified look on Trin’s face—hearing the pity and fear in her voice as she told him she didn’t want to hear any more—that was reason enough to keep the past to himself. Thrace wished desperately that he’d done exactly that.
But somehow when she started using the lube on him, he just couldn’t keep it inside anymore. His subservient position, kneeling by the bed with his legs spread while she fingered him from behind had been too much to take. It reminded him too strongly of the past—of the way the Master had sometimes prepared him before taking him.
Should have kept it to myself, he thought again. But it was too late for that. Too late to do anything but try to find her and repair the damage he’d done. With a low oath, he stood up and began looking for his trousers—the ones that actually covered him. They were going to have to leave this place and he’d be damned if he would wear those fucking crotchless slave trousers one more minute. He was going to get dressed, gather the bare necessities, and find Trin. In the meantime, maybe she would cool off a little and be ready to talk by the time he got to her.
He hoped.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Trin ran until the breath was tearing in her throat and she felt like her heart would burst. The marble halls of the vast mansion echoed with her footsteps and the stone floor was cold against her bare feet but she didn’t care—she had to get away.
At last she found the exit out into the back grounds of the estate. She stumbled wearily out into the weak sunshine, grateful beyond words to be out of that house, away from the awful things she’d heard and seen.
Poor Thrace…oh Goddess, so awful…so horrible…
She shouldn’t have run. Trin sank to the ground, the dry grass crunching under her feet, holding the stitch in her side. Shouldn’t have run.
But the look on his face had been so fierce and frightening and the things he’d told her had been so awful…
How much more awful do you think they were for him? How hard was it for him to tell you? But you didn’t stay and try to comfort him—you ran. Ran away and left him feeling like garbage.
I’m sorry…so sorry… Trin buried her face in her hands and a hoarse sob broke from her throat. The worst thing was that she’d almost done it to him again—had almost forced him to relive that old trauma, that horrible past. Oh Goddess, if his words hadn’t brought back the dream…if he hadn’t admitted it was true and not just a nightmare…I can’t believe I was actually going to do that to him…that I was going to hurt him like that!
She felt sick—sick and shaky with rage and sorrow. She wanted to find Thrace’s old master and kill him…until she remembered what he’d said about the way he had killed the old bastard himself.
I ripped out his throat. With my teeth. His blood tasted so fucking sweet…
Goddess! Trin shivered and let out another sob. She hated getting emotional—hated letting her feelings show. And yet this time she couldn’t keep them inside. Thrace meant something to her—in the short time she’d known him he had somehow gotten closer to her than to any other person she’d ever known. Despite the fact that he was male and a relationship between them was both wrong and forbidden she cared for him. And the thought of him being hurt like that…
“My, my—you look a mess, my dear if you don’t mind me saying so. And you must be thirsty with all that running. Here.” Someone handed her a cool, frosty cup. Her eyes still filled with tears, Trin gasped it blindly and took a deep drink. The liquid inside was faintly sweet and icy—so cold it made her lips go numb.
“Thank you,” she said in a shaky voice, handing it back.
“Not at all, not at all. Always glad to be of use to a lady in need.”
A pair of tall black boots was suddenly in front of her eyes and a big, masculine hand was reaching down to take her under the arm. Black boots…that should bother me…why? For a moment she couldn’t think why. Then she looked up and saw the boots and the hand with the drink belonged to Lord X.
“You!” She tried to scoot backwards but his grip on her was too firm.
“Of course it’s me. Let me just help you up.” He smiled gallantly as he hoisted her to her feet. When he got a look at her face, he shook his head and made a tsking sound. “You’ve been crying! My dear, whatever for?”
“I can’t…I don’t want to talk about it.” Trin swiped at her eyes and did her best to stand up straight.
“But you should talk about it—to a friend who cares.” His handsome face twisted into a cold smile that didn’t quite find his eyes. “Lady Tam-tam is most displeased with you, you know. Apparently you didn’t fulfil your end of some bargain she made with you.”
“That was no bargain—it was blackmail!” Trin spat before she thought better of it.
“Blackmail? Really?” His eyebrows raised high over those strange black eyes with the deep red glints in them. “Whatever can that mean?”