Page 41 of Break Me

He draws back. Almost like I’ve slapped him. Or like I’ve hit straight into some vulnerable spot he doesn’t want to face.

“Please,” I continue before he can speak. “I want to belong to you. I don’t care if you’ll never open those rings and fuck me. I just want to be yours.”

He makes a slight shake of his head. “You can’t handle me,” he says, and it almost seems like he’s debating with himself whether he should keep me. Then the shock draws back from his face, leaving cold brutality as he leans in to wrap a terrifying hand around my neck. “I like to hurt women. I like to hear them scream and beg for mercy.” Tightening his grip, he narrows my airways, making me wheeze. “And you know what else I like?”

I give a tiny shake of my head.

He leans into my face, growling right against my lips. “I like to deprive them of that mercy.”

My head whirs and my world spins. I pant for air, but it’s not as much because his hand is robbing me of my breath. It’s his words. I want that complete control. That lack of mercy. To lose myself so completely to him that I can’t even lay claim to that leniency anymore.

He rears back and shoots me a cold glare. “Can you handle that, huh? Can you handle the pain? You have no idea what I’m capable of. You haven’t even seen half of what I do—half of what I’ll give you.”

“I don’t care,” I say. “I want it all. Everything you give me.”

With a grunt, he pushes to his feet, then hauls me up along with him. “Then prove it.” Grabbing me by the back of my neck, he shoves me forward, out of the cell.

My feet scrape against the rough floors as I struggle to keep up with his fast pace as he leads me down the hall.

A few cells down, he shoves me to my knees and points a finger in my face. “Stay.”

I don’t move a muscle as he goes into another cell. I don’t even lift my eyes to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing. But the noises tell me more than plenty. Whimpers and desperate pleas from a woman. He’s going to show me just how bad it can be. Then maybe he’ll do the same things to me. I have no idea. But I don’t care. I don’t care because the way he grabs me as he comes back out with a woman says everything.

“Up,” he demands, and the moment I’m on my feet, he snaps his hand around the back of my neck again. But instead of grabbing the other woman the same way, he takes her by the hair and yanks her forward, bent over and whimpering.

He takes us to one of the rooms where I usually get hosed down in the evenings—the same kind as the one where Lavinia got punished. He places me to the side, ordering me to stay, then ties the woman up by the arms to a hook in the ceiling. The same way Dorin restrained Lavinia.

“Watch,” he demands as he delivers the first blow. The woman screams as he slams his fist into her thigh with a force that seems to reverberate through her entire body. He moves to strike her other thigh. One side of her ass, and the other side. He keeps going, brutal and cold. He doesn’t meet her eyes, doesn’t recognize her as a person. She’s merely a punching bag. But Dax is not dead inside.I’mthe object of his obsession, I realize, as he keeps glancing my way as if to gauge my reaction.

Her screams renew themselves to become a constant intrusive ringing that bounces back and forth against the hard walls, steeping the room in despair. I shuffle my feet against the cold floor as I hug myself tight.

But even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t.

“Watch,” Dax barks every time I lower my gaze to the floor. So I keep looking. But it’s not the woman I’m seeing. Not truly. It’s not her pain and despair. It’s the brutal, magnificent power of the man who controls my soul and holds the key to my deepest desires. The man who has become the needle in my compass—the sun around which my world revolves.

It’s fucked up and wrong, but I can’t deny the effect he has on me—the way he has made me gravitate toward him, leaving everything behind only to see him and the world he creates for me. It’s violent and dirty, but I have a place in it. He makes me feel like I matter here. He’s even given me a purpose.

As he stops beating the woman, I want to go comfort her. The strength has drained from her body, leaving her hanging by the ropes on her wrists as she weeps quietly. But there’s a furious energy to Dax that scares me, and I don’t dare to move a finger.

“Is this what you want?” he growls, turning the woman around to showcase the deep purple layer of angry bruises covering her whole ass. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s horrifying and sickening. But at the same time, I feel a twinge of jealousy. Because that woman is bearing Dax’s mark, and I want to be the one to do that.

“Is it?” Dax demands when I don’t respond fast enough. Grabbing her throat, he turns her again and delivers a firm blow to her stomach. My shocked gasp makes my chest contract as her shrill scream fills the room. But Dax doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t even break eye contact with me as he delivers the blow.

I gulp as I see the woman in my peripheral vision, hunched over and whimpering in agony. But I don’t believe he would do that to me. There’s no way he would beat me senseless and punch me in the gut. He wouldn’t treat me the same way he treats her.Like nothing.Because I mean something to him. His burning eyes say everything.

So I simply say, “I want you.”

Taking a knife from his pocket, he swiftly cuts through the ropes binding the woman and throws her into the corner. His eyes narrow as he steps toward me, grabbing my chin in his rough hands. “Do you want me to string you up and beat you unconscious? Is that what you want?”

Before I can reply, he has me by the back of my neck again, shoving me forward.

“Give me your hands,” he demands, stepping in front of me with a new bundle of ropes.

I tremble as I obey and watch him twine the coarse material around my wrists. Closing my eyes, I force myself to remember the difference in how he handled me and the other woman. The way he dragged her by the hair but held me by the neck. The way he never met her eyes but kept demanding mine on his.

Dax won’t hurt me like that.I’m sure of it. Yet I can’t help the fear crawling down my spine as he attaches the rope and my wrists to the hook. Twice today, I’ve watched a woman being strung up like this and beaten. And now, somehow, I’ve ended up in the same place.

Opening my eyes, I stare at the mark on my arm.DAX001.And that’s when the first blow lands. I cry out as pain blooms deep in my left ass cheek, sending shockwaves through my lower body. My breaths come in quick pants, but I force myself to calm down, determined to take whatever he gives me. And it’s not too hard. The pain isn’t as severe as I feared. It’s there, burning and pounding in my muscles, but bearable. At the next strike, I clench my teeth, forcing back the panic. I manage to do the same the next three times he hits me. But soon, my composure wavers, and mewls and whimpers form at the base of my throat as I struggle to take what he gives me.