Fearless Read online

  “Let’s go back, Meisie. Take me back to the first moment you saw him. The night you met Alex Du Toit.”

  It’s a hot and dry Friday night, and I’m dressed like I’m looking for dick. Which I am. I’m sick of being the only virgin in my clique. But that’s all about to change.

  I spot Alex across the crowded bar like I’m the lead role in one of those cheesy rom-coms. He turns and our eyes lock. His smile sends a tremor through me, and then he’s weaving through the crowds, heading straight for me.

  “What do you see? What do you hear? What do you smell?”

  Alex grabs my hand and leads me off the dance floor. His dirty-blond hair catches stray beams of rainbow light thrown from the bar’s spinning mirror ball. Weed smoke hangs in a haze over the bar and no wonder—it’s reggae night tonight.

  “Where does he take you?”

  The alleyway outside reeks of cat piss and stale beer, which is hilarious because the club’s name is Cat’s Pajamas. He said he wanted to get some fresh air, but I know he’s lying when we end up here. Then he lights a joint and it’s obvious he just wants to get nasty.

  And it would be nasty. I’m not going to fuck him in an alleyway. It’s my first time. I want it to be special.

  But I’ve had too much to drink. And he’s good looking. Instead of telling him I want to go back inside, I keep laughing at his stupid jokes. A car pulls up in the street outside and honks. Alex turns to wave at them, but it’s dark-haired Cillian that looks back. You’re coming home with me in my car. Say it, Meisie.

  “Did you get in the car?”

  Yeah, I got in the fucking car. Why wouldn’t I? He’s handsome as hell, and I came here to find someone to bang.

  “Where does Alex take you?”

  To his apartment, I think. I dunno. It’s all getting jumbled now.

  “Are you drunk?” Tap-tap go Patricia’s nails on the iPad.

  No, it’s the joint. He offered. I accepted. But I don’t feel high. I feel...not right. Did he spike it?

  “Where are you now, Meisie?”

  I don’t know. It’s dark. Crowded. Untidy. I keep bumping into things. I think someone’s kissing me. Why won’t they turn on the light? It’s so dark in here. So much stuff lying all over the fucking floor.

  “Turn on the light, Meisie.”

  It’s red. Everything’s red.

  “Is Alex’s apartment red, Meisie? Where are you?”

  I’m in the dungeon.

  He won’t let me go.

  His hands are all over me.

  I thought I wanted this, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know where I am. I’m scared. Why won’t he let me go? I’m yelling at him, yelling at him to let me go.

  “What does he do when you ask him to let you go?”

  I…I walk into something, I think.

  “What did you walk into?”

  I don’t know. It’s too dark. I can’t see. No, wait. He hit me. Oh, fuck, he just hit me!

  I can’t get up. I have to, but I can’t get up.

  “Meisie, stop screaming.” But that’s not my shrink’s voice. It’s a man’s voice. Deep, rough, commanding.

  Cillian.

  He’s holding me down on the bed. No, not holding me down. Thick leather straps are holding me down. He’s tied me to the bed in the red room I just woke up in.

  A scream rips out of my throat. “No!”

  He grits his teeth, both hands pressing down on my belly to keep me on the bed as I start writhing and twisting against the straps.

  “Please, Alex, please. Let me go. I want to leave. Alex, please!”

  “Who the fuck is Alex?” Cillian barks out. “Can you even hear me? Meisie, I’m not Alex!”

  “Stop. Stop! STOP!”

  I open my mouth for another scream, and Cillian shoves a handful of sheet inside. I’m so shocked, my body goes limp as I gape up at him around the linen.

  “Jesus suffering Christ!” He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and runs both hands through his hair. “Here I thought you’d hurt yourself, and you try to take my fucking eyes out,” he mutters.

  He turns to me, and does a double take when he sees I’m looking at him. “Are you done?”

  My chest stutters through one breath after the other as I try and claw myself back to reality.

  “Mind telling me what the fuck just happened?”

  I glance around a bit, and blink a tear from my eyes. Then I shrug a little and push out a soft, “Sowwy,” around my gag.

  He reaches up and touches the tip of his thumb to his cheekbone. It comes back dotted with black. When he twists to face me, I see a drop of blood welling on the tiny cut beneath one eye.

  Oh my God. Did I do that?

  I try and spit out the gag and get halfway before Cillian shoves it back in my mouth.

  “No you don’t, princess,” he mutters, frowning hard at me. “That’s not coming out until you’ve calmed the fuck down.”

  Then he gets to his feet and stretches out his neck. “And now I need a cigarette. Two years since I quit—ruined.” His voice trails away as he crosses the room, and then he disappears behind the closet.

  Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creak.

  Stairs. He’s going upstairs.

  My mind switches into overdrive. I use my tongue to push the gag out of my mouth as I strain for the smallest sound.

  A faint screech of a metal door. If I can get out of these fucking straps—

  I yank with all my might on the straps holding me in place. He only got one ankle and one wrist tied up, which is why I could buck and squirm like a fish out of water.

  For a second, I’m frozen in place.

  I remember waking up unbound.

  When did he come inside? When did he strap me down? Did I blackout again?

  What did he do while I was unconscious? Did he—

  No. No!

  I can’t even consider shit like that right now. He’s gone, and that’s all that matters.

  Not like last time, Meisie, my fucking shrink croons in my head. Alex knocked you out and tied you up and cut off your panties with a kitchen knife. Do you remember that, dear, or are you still suppressing that memory? Why don’t we go back to the night—

  “Fuck!” I grit out through clenched teeth.

  Not again.

  Not fucking ever!

  I yank at my restraints, and my heart leaps into my throat when I realize the straps are tightened by giant buckles and not something that requires a key. The gag finally slips out of my mouth, and I haul in a ragged breath as I desperately work at the buckle.

  Hurry! Before he gets back.

  My wrist slips out of the leather cuff. I scoot down the bed and yank open the buckle securing my ankle while my skin tries to crawl one way and my flesh the other.

  My bare feet hit a rug and, two steps later, a cold concrete floor.

  I race over to the closet. As I’m about to turn the corner, I hear the distant sound of footsteps.

  Shit! Too late!

  I spin around, hunting for a place to hide. My gaze lands on the wooden door, but anywhere I go, he’ll just find me in an instant. I need to attack. I wrench open the closet door, reach in blindly, and grab the first thing I lay hands on.

  And come out clutching a whip.

  I stare at it in absolute shock, struggling valiantly not to burst into hysterical laughter.

  Could have been worse. Could have been a big, black dildo.

  The metal door screeches.

  I duck behind the closet, pressing the whip to my chest and squeezing my eyes shut.

  Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creeeak.

  There’s one more step, but he’s not taking it. What is he doing?

  Sensing danger like the fucking predator he is, that’s what.

  Breathe, Meisie. Breathe. Actually, fuck that. He can probably hear you panting in the shadows.

  Stop breathing.

  So I do.

  The smell of
cigarette smoke tickles my nose. I wrinkle it, not daring to move more.

  Shit. No. I’m going to sneeze.

  Thump—creak.

  “Do you really think I’m that stupid? Or are you just trying to entice me into a game of hide and seek?” Thud go his feet on the concrete. “Where’s she hiding? Is she... behind the curtain?”

  He’s using the tone a shit annoying uncle would use with a toddler.

  “Is she...under the bed?”

  Yes! That’s where I am, you sick, perverted fuck. Right there with all the dust bunnies and ghosts of sex slaves past. And if you go look for me, you’ll walk right past and I can bash you upside the fucking head.

  A billow of cigarette smoke announces his arrival a second before his silhouette crosses my line of sight.

  I leap out of the shadows with a primal shriek, and slash out with the whip.

  He catches it without bothering to look in my direction, and twists it out of my hands with a flick of his wrist like some sex-crazed Indiana Jones on steroids. He has me pressed to the closet with a hand around my throat before that black cat-and-nine-tails hits the concrete floor.

  He plucks the cigarette from his lips and blows a plume of smoke into my face before crushing it under his heel.

  “I had no idea you were into role play,” he purrs at me in his thick Scottish accent.

  There’s no missing the sadistic gleam in his jade eyes as he scans my body with a quick, condescending glance.

  “I could say the same about you,” I spit back at him.

  “Watch it, little girl.” He smirks, and puts his mouth by my ear. “You want to act like a child? Then I’ll treat you like one.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CILLIAN

  I take a step back but hold her in place, purely so I can see her reactions play across her features. She sticks her chin out and stares up at me, those big silver eyes going wide.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find this amusing.

  Sure, I wouldn’t have chosen it to be this way. But this is the way it is now.

  And her attempt at escape was adorable.

  What did she think she was going to do, whip me into submission?

  If I have to teach her the hard way that I don’t swing like that, then I will.

  “We lay down firm rules, and we establish strict consequences.”

  She screws her face up, clearly unamused.

  “Now, first and foremost, I don’t want to fuck you right now—clearly, you have issues with fucking, and I happen to like my eyeballs—but if we stay here like this, then I might not be able to keep myself on a leash. So I’m going to let you go, and you’re not going to run, understand?”

  She nods her head, and I drop my hands and take a step away from her.

  Good.

  I don’t know what the fuck it is. There’s something about this girl that has me right on the edge.

  Last night I thought it was the tears, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s just her big, needy eyes in general. In the club, I saw her straight away for what she was. A lost little girl who hadn’t even worked out what exactly she was looking for. But she needs something. And I like to be needed. For as much as I bitch and moan about Cole, the truth of the matter is I could have popped a bullet in his skull years ago. More times than I can count that action would have been justified.

  But I’ve never done it, because he needs me, and like I said, I enjoy being needed.

  Why did it take me thirty-two years on this earth to work that out?

  Maybe that’s what’s attracting me to the lost little puppy in front of me.

  Even now, after three of her outbursts, she looks like she could fall straight over if I nudged her.

  And I like that.

  I could whip my trousers down right now, and show her exactly how much I like that. Maybe then she’d realize just how precarious her position is, and think twice before she tries to rattle me with a fucking whip. Or whatever else she pulls out of Cole’s cupboard of horrors.

  We’ll get to that though. One rule at a time.

  I clear my throat. “Rule number one. No running.”

  She snorts, which is fine. Let her fucking snort. It’s when she dares roll her eyes at me that I’ll go right back and amend my agreement about keeping my cock away from her.

  “No running. No escaping. No slipping away. No sneaking out.”

  She goes to open her mouth but I cut her off before she can get a word out. “Absolutely no fucking running.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that one of the seven ways you spelled it out. Can you repeat that, pretty please?”

  “No fucking backchat.”

  She cocks her head. “Is that another rule, or…?”

  Jesus, is she asking for a fucking hiding? “No. But we can make it a rule, so be warned.”

  I continue before she can interrupt me again. “Rule number two. No fighting. No hitting me with whips. No scratching my eyeballs out. And don’t try to pull my hair either, because I hate that.”

  She laughs, briefly, but quickly stops as if she’s just remembered she’s supposed to be mad at me. “Anything else, Your Highness? Or do you prefer Master?”

  “I think that just about covers everything for now.”

  “Can I ask a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to listen to a fucking word of that?”

  Now I’m the one laughing, and I don’t even bother to hide it like she did. “You need to learn the art of patience, because I hadn’t even got to the consequences yet.”

  Meisie squares her shoulders, trying to make herself look bigger than she is. It’s adorable as hell. “I don’t give a fuck about your consequences.”

  She’s leading me straight down a path I didn’t want to go back to, and she doesn’t even know it. I take a step forward, caging her body beneath mine against the wall. Grabbing onto her wrist, my fingers snapping around her delicate skin easily, I pull her hand down toward the bulge in my trousers.

  She resists, but of course it’s useless. I’m twice the size of her, and probably ten times as strong.

  I force her hand against me, and her eyes go wide.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  She tries to pull her hand away but I hold it in place. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been harder in my life.

  “Because you seem like a girl who knows nothing about consequences.”

  She closes her eyes and turns her head away, giving me her cheek. “I know more than you think.”

  Hmm. Interesting.

  Maybe she knows more than I assumed, if her outburst earlier was anything to go by. Another puzzle I’ll need to solve.

  But that’s not the point.

  “You don’t know my brother,” I tell her.

  She opens her eyes now and gazes up at me, a silent question playing on those pretty lips.

  “You think I’m bad? You think this is bad?” I glance down to where her hand is still lodged firmly against my cock. “You’re lucky I don’t let him loose on you. And believe me when I tell you that is still an option.”

  Her stare is ice now, and I swear it has precum leaking from the tip of my cock.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Fuck.

  Meisie still thinks this is a one-night stand gone wrong.

  She has no idea who I am, what really happened last night, or what I want.

  “It doesn’t matter why,” I say dismissively.

  “That’s bullshit. I deserve to know why.” There’s a tremor in her voice. I would have taken it for fear, but it sounds more like anger.

  She deserves nothing. If her mother is the stubborn cold-hearted bitch I think she is, then my little captive won’t be home in time for supper. In fact, she might not be going home anytime soon. It would be worse for her if she knew her own mother was the one dragging this out.


  Nah. I know how it feels to be abandoned by your own mother, and no one deserves that.

  I will be the bad guy. Sometimes that’s the kinder thing to do.

  “Trust me sweetheart, I’m doing you a favor.”

  She glares up at me. “If that’s really what you think, then you’re more fucked in the head than I thought, you sick, perverted—”

  I grab her jaw and throat in a hand and push her head against the wall, baring my teeth at her.

  “Well you don’t have all the facts, do you? So you need to listen. You need to follow my rules. And you need to believe me when I say you do not want to fuck with my brother.”

  Her throat moves under my hand as she swallows. “Then tell me what you want from me.”

  It’s not even a question. She says it like she resents every damn word coming out of her mouth.

  “I want you to go to the bathroom, fix yourself up, and have something to eat.”

  She frowns up at me, as if she can’t believe the words that are coming out of my mouth.

  I guess that list isn’t exclusive. There’s a lot more I want, but those three things will do for now.

  “Fine. Where’s the fucking bathroom?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MEISIE

  My sex dungeon is located in the basement of a mansion. As Cillian leads me through the house to my first stop—the bathroom—I catch a glimpse of a massive lawn ending at a thick cluster of trees. It could be a forest, for all I know.

  I’m in the middle of nowhere.

  He keeps a hand on my elbow, steering me where he wants me to go. We’re on the ground floor of the mansion, near the back of the house. I’m guessing these are the servants’ corridors, because there is no art on the walls, no fancy furnishings.

  He opens a door and shoves me inside, slamming it closed behind me without a word.

  I’m in a small bathroom. There’s barely enough space to move around between the sink, toilet, and shower cubicle.

  No windows here—just a vent emitting a loud hum as if there’s an air-conditioner built in behind it.

  Too small for me to climb through.