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   Chapter 13 12.

On Her Knees By Chyna McCartney Characters: 16331

Updated: 2018-02-10 17:28


"You're hurting me, " I hissed, struggling to loosen the harsh grip on my bicep. Marcus didn't respond but continued to drag me down the hallway lined with individual room doors. One of his steps was more than three of mine and I could barely move my feet fast enough to match his hurried pace.

He pulled me to a stop in front a large unmarked door, about eight or nine feet high with apart of the wood splintered inward on the right corner as if some large hand had tried to pound its way through it. He turned to me and pressed his pointed nose into the crook of my throat.

"One would wonder what the two of you spend your time doing in that room, " he growled, taking in my scent. "You're still pure. You reek of your Mr. Leonard Grey, but he has made no move to deflower you."

"He's not like you." I spat.

"Then what is he? Considerate of the preferences and feelings of a human whore?"

I clenched my jaw tightly, feeling the anger bubbling up from that familiar place in the pit of my stomach. A gentle throbbing above my ribs reminded me to remain composed. My bruised rubs had healed some in the past week. The pain was no longer as excruciating as it had once been and the mark had faded to a pale yellow color. The reminder of what he could do to me dampened my anger to a gentle ember. I would try not to provoke the fury of another vampire. Emphasis on the word try.

Marcus let out a cruel chuckle and one large hand on my shoulder pressed my back to the wall behind me. "He is a fool. The things I would have done to you had I be given the opportunity. Things you would not have enjoyed-- but that's the point isn't it? Your pleasure, your well being is of no consequences to us-- to me."

"You can't touch me, " I answered confidently, ignoring his threat.

Marcus smirked in response, pulling me away from the wall.

"Foolish girl, " he chided.

"Since he seems reluctant to seize the opportunity, I happen to know who will." With one great push, he shoved the large door open and my eyes were immediately assaulted by the bright lights in the room. I was vaguely aware that I was being herded into the large space but my vision hadn't refocused enough yet.

"This is the girl?" came a voice from inside the room. It was distinctly masculine with some Middle Eastern accent that I couldn't exactly place.

I blinked, rapidly and my eyes landed on the source of the voice.

We stood in another all white room with huge industrial spotlights illuminating every corner of the room. A large bed was placed at the center of the place, draped in sheets tinted a bright crimson and the lens of a large camera was angled toward it.

Next to the camera stood a small desk on which several laptop computers sat, each with their one individual cables that connected them to the camera. It looked like we were standing in a small, unmanned production set.

The man who spoke had short dark hair that flopped over her forehead. He looked like me; at least as far as complexion was concerned. We had the same olive, tanned skin with an undertone of the standard pale, parlor that vampires tend to have but he was far more beautiful than I was, with striking, angular features and soft lips set in a thin line.

His attire was somewhere along the lines of business wear: a coffee colored dress shirt with a few of the buttons left undone to expose the smooth skin of his chest.

He paired it with black slacks and his feet were bare, with the Oxfords he had been wearing placed neatly on the floor next to the bed.

I could sense an air of practiced nonchalance about him. He didn't move, only his eyes followed me as Marcus dragged me toward him.

"Yes, " Marcus replied when I stood nearly three feet away from the man. I could see the true color of his eyes. They were blue; not the clear cerulean that Giovanni's was but more of a bluish green.

"You told me she was American, " he said to Marcus, although his eyes never left me, studying my features.

"I am, " I answered for him. "My mother was born in Syria."

The man gave the barest of nods in return and cast a wary look toward Marcus who still stood behind me with a firm grip on the back of my throat. "You can leave now, Marcus. I can handle things from here."

My mind began racing, trying to process the conversation. Handle things?

"I can only give you an hour, Amir. I am already violating my contract with another patron by giving her to you. No marks."

The man, Amir gave a dismissive gesture with his hand and then I could no longer feel Marcus' hand around the back of my throat. After the sound of a few faint steps, the large door opened and then finally closed with a groan.

I immediately began to panic in these unfamiliar surroundings; alone with an unfamiliar man.

Amir began to circle me slowly like a shark and I stood still, struggling to control my breat

e the sound of that threat, the malice behind it.

Then there was only utter silence for a few heartbeats. I could only hear the pounding of my rapid heart beat in my ears. I could not hear or feel Marcus near me.

"What are you..." I started to ask but was immediately cut short by pain blossoming across the bare flesh of my back. I cried out from the shock of it and something hit my back for a second time.

"The cat-o-nine tails; my favorite." Another slap of the weapon against my skin and I had to bite my lip to hold in the scream.

"Have you had enough yet?" he asked with another swift blow to back.

"No, " I groaned, my body swaying against the ropes.

He answered me by slapping the cat-o-nine tails against my back.

"You don't give up do you?" Another hit. "Are you finally ready to submit?"

He got no response from me and hit me with the whip for a seventh time.

"Answer me. Have you had enough yet?" The eighth blow scent ripples of pain blossoming down my spine.

"Is this what you want? To be beaten into submission like an animal?"

The ninth blow nearly knocked all the air out of my lungs. Marcus came to stand in front of me, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "Are you ready to submit?" he breathes near my face.

Sucking in a lungful of air, I panted out, "No... I.. won't submit."

I couldn't let him win. He was used to exerting his immense strength over those weaker than himself but I wouldn't allow him to do the same with me.

Marcus stared unblinking for a moment at my response and then slowly his features contorted into a scowl.

He yelled wordlessly and his arm brought the weapon down in a frenzy, the tails of the whip licking my skin faster than I could count the blows. I stopped fighting the pain, screams of agony falling from my lips until I could scream no more. My legs gave out when he had finally stopped beating me and my body hunched over itself as I struggled to breathe evenly.

Some other force must have been holding the other end of the ropes on my restraints because my weight didn't pull me to the floor immediately. I was partially suspended above the ground below me with the ropes biting into my skin.

There was the sound of some object I couldn't see, probably the cat-o-nine tails hitting the ground and my body fell to the floor shortly after.

The world began to blur at the edges even in the darkness and my hands flailed against the ground, clawing at the smooth stone beneath me as even now, I fought to get away.

"Shit, " I heard Marcus curse and then his body was next to me. His cool palms pulled my torso across his lap. Ever so gently, his fingers brushed the hair away from my face.

"No, no, no.." he pleaded. "Don't go."

But I couldn't respond to him. The pain radiating outward from my back was replaced by numbness.

As my conscious mind began to float away from me, I could see a few faces dancing behind my heavy eyelids: the smiling faces of my foster parents, the memory of my real parents, Melanie's tears and then finally Giovanni's beautiful smirking face.

I didn't question why his face was the last thing that I saw before the darkness consumed my world. I just let it pull me under, my mind drifting away into peaceful oblivion.

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