The Dove & the Darkness (Ceasefire Series book 5) Read online

  My cock twitches. What would it be like to sink balls deep into her now? I would tear her apart as I fuck her. Taking her is a fantasy that has taken root. I’ve dreamt of wrapping my frame in her supple limbs as I sully her with my madness. Corrupt and debase her.

  She’ll fight me. Beg me. Cry. But in the end, my little Dove will become accustomed to everything she’ll endure. All the females before her have come to crave my dick after being conditioned. Whores to please me and my select tastes until they’re sold on.

  “You’re a monster,” she whispers, shaking in her restraints. I can see she finds my skeletal mask disturbing. What lay beneath would only terrify her more.

  “Yes, I am.” Wrapping a hand around her throat, I watch her eyes shoot wide. “I could take your life right now if I wanted to, and no one would ever know.”

  Exerting pressure, I begin to squeeze. Cassandra fights, but we both know it’s useless. If I strangle her now, she has no way to stop me.

  Beneath my fingers, I feel her heartbeat increase as adrenaline courses through her with the need to survive. It wouldn’t take much to snuff out her light. Already she’s gasping as I hold her airways hostage. I continue to throttle her, my grip tightening deliciously slow.

  Eyes rolling shut, I feel her start to go limp. All it would take is another second. My excitement dissipates. Releasing my hold, I take a step back. The vivid red marks of my brutality are bright red splotches against the pale skin on her neck.

  On a wheeze, my little Dove coughs violently sucking the oxygen she’s missing into her starving lungs. Hanging in the chains, I observe they are the only thing holding her up now. I should just dump her back in her cell as I always do with new whores, but I have the urge not to do it without at least giving her something more. Why I feel the need, I’m not sure.

  Using the tip of the crop, I rub it between her legs. She jerks at the first brush. I know it’s from fear of being hurt again. Working it along her folds I press lightly against her clit. As she becomes more aware of what’s going on, I hear her confused intake of breath. With my other hand I cup her mound.

  Cassandra tenses under my touch. She’s trembling so badly. I know it’s with a mixture of emotions I’ve evoked inside her. A cocktail of terror and arousal. I know how intoxicating it can be. In the right hands, it could bring more bliss than she could ever imagine. One I want her to taste.

  Finding her tiny nub, I tease it with my thumb. Building the friction, I begin to ease her into what I know would be a need for release. As the resistance I’ve felt melts away, she starts to writhe and pant against my hand like a bitch in heat.

  Moaning her stance widens allowing me better access to her glistening pussy. Her excitement is wet against her inner thighs. Soaking my hand. She likes my attention. It arouses her even though she denies it. I’ve never had someone so responsive.

  “You like that, don’t you?” I growl, sinking a finger inside her. The walls of her slick channel spasm in response.

  “Please don’t do this to me,” she pleads. Pushing herself down on the finger between her legs, she grinds herself against my palm.

  That makes me chuckle. So many contradictions. She wants release even if her mouth says no.

  Watching her body language, each tensing of her muscles. the quake of her limbs, I can tell she’s getting close. With a flick of my wrist, I bring the crop in a hard blow down across her buttock.

  Casandra screams at the sudden slap of pain.

  “You don’t come unless I tell you to,” I warn her removing my hand from her pussy. “Now thank me.”

  Eyes wide, she stares back at me in defiance. “Never.”

  A smile creeps up the edges of my lips. She’s so willful. A tiny, wild bird fighting against its owner’s hand.

  Her magnificent small breasts still heaving, the dusky brown nipples hard, little points.

  I’ve never seen anything so tempting. Leaning down, I lick one.

  5

  Cassandra

  Screwing my eyes shut, I can’t contain my moan. Master suckles on my tit before I feel the nip of teeth. It stings, but isn’t unpleasant. A riot of mixed sensations overloads my senses. Pain from my throbbing buttocks and the ache of my pussy from where he’s tormented me into almost coming. Squeezing my thighs together, I try to stem the flow of shameful arousal. This shouldn’t be turning me on. Bound and vulnerable, this man can do whatever he wants to me. It’s evil. Sadistic. Sick. Yet in the darker recesses of my mind, a perverted part of me is taking a certain twisted pleasure from some of the things he’s doing. He’s touching me in ways I’ve never experienced before.

  Teeth clamp down on my other nipple. The sting it causes shoots through my nerve endings and tears a whimper from my throat. The tip of the crop drags over my skin before it comes down with a crack on my right buttock. Writhing with a scream, I try to cringe away.

  “We’re done for now.” Master’s words take a moment to penetrate my mind.

  I whine still lost in a daze of pleasure. My body is coiled tight for an orgasm that isn’t going to be granted.

  “Little Dove, are you upset I didn’t let you come?” Faint amusement glints in his gaze as I stare up into his hidden face. “You only get that reward if I think you deserve it. Obedience is taught through discipline: punishment and reward. In time, you’ll learn what that means and embrace it.”

  Jerking on the cuffs that hold my arms upright, I send him a glare. “No. I’m not a pet. I’m a person.”

  Grasping my chin, Master yanks my face up to meet his. We’re nose to nose. I can smell the leather of his hideous mask. I can see his irises, which now look more black than hazel brown. They bore into mine. Through me with a force and command that make me go completely still in his grip.

  “And you enjoyed what I did to you. So, what does that make you?”

  It’s true. I had. As the feelings of anger empty out of me, I slump. Master unshackles my wrists. As I lower them, I hiss at the stiffness in my limbs. Clamping a hand around my bicep before I can make a run, he guides me briskly toward the door.

  For a brief second, I look longingly at the length of the corridor. It has to be the way out. I’m more than sure about it now.

  Shoving me back into the prison, he stands blocking the way out. Like a dark shadow he looms dangerously watching.

  “Don’t even think about giving yourself relief.” Tone formidable, he points at the ceiling. In one corner that I hadn’t noticed I see a tiny red blinking light and what looked like a lens. “I will be watching you. If you get yourself off with your hands it will be my belt you’ll feel next. I’m the only one who is allowed to give you pleasure or pain. Understood?”

  I nod. The thought of a belt hitting me makes my blood run cold. I’ve felt that kind of pain before when I was younger and have no desire to experience it again.

  “Understood?” Master repeats his voice, dropping down to a deadly murmur.

  “Yes no touching myself,” I respond, just wishing he would leave me alone. Head bowing, I stare at the floor. More tears threaten to break free, but I don’t want him to see them.

  “Yes what?”

  Defiantly I remain silent. I won’t call him Master. He doesn’t own me.

  I’ll never submit or give in to his demands. No matter how much he degrades me.

  Time stretches for what feels like an eternity before I finally hear the bang of the metal door. Then the scraping of the bolts. Sinking to my knees on the chilly concrete ground, I curl into a ball.

  Stuffing a fist into my mouth, I muffle the sound as I let my misery free. Shoulders shaking the tears stream down my face as I cry. With it comes the tide I can’t control. Images play on a nonstop reel through my head. People. Places. Moments of love. Moments of pain. They fill me up like the vessel I am until the visions are too much to bear.

  Everything shifts.

  Things settle, and I find myself grounded for a heartbeat.

  I have no clue if it’s past, pre
sent, or the future. My eyes are not my own. In the hand, I see a bow. Combat trousers adorn the male body I’m viewing. I sense the owner’s hate. His loathing. He lives and breathes it. On their knees before me, a couple begs for their lives. A sense of satisfaction swells through the hunter. A sick pride. He’s already made up his mind to kill them. Have one lover watch as the other dies slowly in the most agonizing way. Hunt the last one down like nothing more than an animal.

  The world blurs at the edges.

  I’m not sure if I’m breathing anymore. How can I when I’m living a thousand lives in a handful of moments.

  I choke as I’m pulled apart. Imploding from the inside but somehow still held together.

  Am I screaming?

  Is that my voice ringing in my ears?

  Can anyone hear me?

  Please someone hear me.

  Help me.

  The visions crash in, and I’m tossed along like a fragile leaf in a storm.

  Drowning.

  6

  Soren

  In silence, I observe the sleeping girl. Her buttocks still bear the marks of the beating in hues of darkening red. Around her neck is the imprint of my hand.

  I’d heard her weeping. Listened to the anguish in her tears as she’d poured her heart out into every single drop. When all had finally gone quiet, I knew she must have fallen asleep in exhaustion.

  With a silent tread I cross the space between us.

  How peaceful she looks in slumber. How innocent. Careful not to disturb her, I drape the coarse blanket over her small form. The thought of the guards seeing her naked makes anger trickle within my blood.

  Squatting down onto my haunches, I brush a stray lock of black hair from her pale face. She’s so deeply asleep she’s unaware of the danger. A babe in the den of evil things.

  Maybe she’s used to it. She’s been living in Hell since she was small. I doubt very much she’s never witnessed the bloodshed and depravity the Devil revels in.

  My Dove has a core of steel. She may be a tiny, young thing, but it’s there. One that is not so easily broken. Something I admire.

  She’ll fight me all the way. It’s something I intend to relish. Breaking down her resistance and everything that will follow. Her body will come first. Once it’s used to my touch, conditioned to what I give it, her mind will eventually join.

  A few days of isolation and she’ll soon be begging for interaction no matter what that is.

  Raising a hand, I run my palm over the cheek beneath the material of my disguise. Raised, rough the edges of my disfigurement are prominent. Healed now for centuries, I’m still plagued with phantom pain now and then. The echo of agony as claws had ripped into the flesh almost claiming my eye.

  I’m a monster on the inside and out.

  Cassandra has barely had a taste of what I’m capable of.

  The horrified reactions of others when I reveal my true self is something I’ve grown accustomed to. The screams of the unprepared females I’ve taken to my bed. My appearance brings repulsion. Now my reputation brings terror. It’s fitting that way. Emotions in others I can use and command.

  While the rest of my kind crumbled to dust or went mad, I have survived. My minions think I’m invincible as well as immortal. Blood and violence is all I know now. I live and breathe it. I’ve buried my previous life and my past.

  Rising to my feet, I take a minute more to observe my new treasure. I cannot linger. There are matters that can no longer wait. Daily duties that need attending.

  Later when I have time to myself, I have things to finish in my workshop. I’ve always been good with my hands. Forging and crafting metal has been one pleasure I’ve never denied myself. Even the precious gems buried here in the mountains, I mold and shape to suit my needs. Jewelry, trinkets, or my more favorite pastime fashioning pieces for slaves to wear. Collars, nipple rings, clamps, the list is endless of what I can create.

  Stalking along the narrow, grey corridor, I catch sight of Jasper as I enter the dining hall. The pixie is sitting in a corner busily shooting things on his laptop computer screen. It’s his favorite pastime. I find such things tedious preferring to let off steam interrogating or torturing. It doesn’t matter how dirty or depraved the job as long as those who want answers pay my fees then keep their own mouths shut.

  Floppy, blue hair an uncombed mess, it looks like he hasn’t slept much on his break. Being our computer specialist for all the security systems throughout my domain, he’s constantly on alert.

  “I need you to keep a close eye on my new guest.” I growl, with a hint of impatience, reaching his side.

  “Why?” he asks absently without looking up.

  “Just do it.”

  Raising his chin, Jasper regards me with annoyance. “I have enough to do making sure the rest of the freaks down here don’t break out, and you're lumping more work on me? That pet of yours also has to have an eye kept on it. Plus, I’m overseeing the shipments of products to all the bliss customers. I am not being paid enough for all this shit.”

  “I didn’t ask you to think,” I counter. The pixie is loyal but has a habit of being mouthy. It will get him killed one day.

  “I admit she’s a hot little number, and I bet she has a pretty pussy. I can’t wait for a taste when you pass her around.”

  Possessiveness roars through me, the growl that leaves my lips is pure instinct. “No one touches her.” Resolve holds my muscular frame taut. “This is not a negotiation. If anyone so much as dares to breathe outside her cell, I want to know about it.”

  Jasper throws me a startled look.

  Shying away from analyzing the unfamiliar feelings the conversation has invoked, I prowl toward the door. “I’ll be in cell three hundred if anyone needs me.” Not waiting for a reply, I set off down the corridor.

  A range of moans and sobs emanate from within the cells I pass. Some occupants are permanent guests, others are being conditioned ready for transportation to their Masters.

  Reaching some stairs, I take the narrow stairwell down into the bowels off the structure. The farther I go, the more ancient the construction. Down here are secrets and revelations. Things hidden from my world and the ones outside. Forgotten nightmares and buried mistakes locked away from existence only a few know about.

  Torch light leaps and flickers across the walls from where they sit in metal brackets fixed to the stone. In these darkest, deepest depths, there’s no necessity to secure electrical lighting as we have above.

  I notice the slightly lower temperature. The trickle of water on the lower levels is noticeable here. With an underground river running beneath, it leaves a dampness in the air. Cracks in the foundations are obvious. Spreading like fragile veins, damaging and chaotic.

  Surveying them grimly, I make a note to have Lucien send a team to repair them. They’ve been appearing more and more lately. Fingernails scraping the wall, I perceive an echo of stagnation.

  Retrieving the heavy key from the pocket of my jeans, I stop outside one of the doors. The wood is worn with age. A green blanket of vibrant downy moss clings to the surface.

  Turning the key in the lock, the spongy feel of the plants is soft under my palm as I push it open without much effort.

  “Hello, Brother.”

  In the gloom, the sound of chains clinking meets my ears. The resident of the sparse, cramped cell raises his head. Through the length of matted, filthy, white hair, a pair of blue eyes fixes on mine.

  “You’re like clockwork even after all these centuries.”

  Slowly stepping toward him, I inspect the metal manacles that I specially crafted myself to keep him confined. “Torturing you is the highlight of my day.”

  Flexing his thick muscles, he moves restlessly in his restraints. Every inch of him is marred with cuts, slashes, and burns. All courtesy of my work. “Whispers say you have something new to occupy your time. A rare songbird that likes to sing.”

  He’s forbidden interaction with others. Powers spent and dr
ained long ago in his weakened state, he shouldn’t be aware of anything beyond these four walls. His words leave me feeling disconcerted.

  He should have no knowledge of Cassandra. Tall and slender, she moves with a natural grace. There’s something about the girl that disturbs me. It should be of supreme indifference to me what she looks like and how she moves.

  “You should be more worried about the time I spend with you.”

  A deep malevolent chuckle vibrates from his scarred throat. “I’m surprised you’ve kept me alive this long. Have you started to crave our time together? Does the insanity in your blood hunger for its freedom? Maybe it recognizes in me what you are yet to become.”

  “After what you did, you deserve to suffer until the universe burns.”

  Moving to the tray of instruments, I consider what to torture him with today. We have two hours of my undivided attention. Time enough to release my pent-up emotions.

  It’s a blur the centuries we’ve spent in this room.

  Him my prisoner. Me the jailor.

  Forgiveness has never been a thought. I can neither show compassion or mercy for the atrocity he caused.

  Madness has yet to steal my mind with the derangement that took his.

  He’s been the spiraling catalyst for what I am now.

  A monster of his making.

  7

  Cassandra

  Staring at the door, I hold my breath hearing bolts being loosened. Instead of the door opening like I expect, a small grate at the bottom is once more swung wide and another bottle of water and a packet of sandwiches are tossed inside.

  Master hasn’t returned.

  With no way to mark the time, I have no clue if hours or days have passed.

  All I have are these four grey walls to keep me company.

  In the deep corners of my mind, I pray that my father and Raziel will find me. I need them more than ever. My knights in shining armor to save me from this evil jailor.