Flawed Love: House of Obsidian (19 page)

“Rainer, you know I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

He reaches up and takes my wrists, removing them from his face. “You need to go, Emalie. I’m done here. It’s too hard.”

“No, you’re doing it because you’re trying to protect me and I get that, but you can’t—”

“Can’t what?” he bellows, leaping up. “Protect you? Well too fucking bad. Until this is done, I don’t want to see you. If that means I lose you then fine, but you need to go, you need to stop calling me, and you need to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Rainer,” I whisper, hurt rising in my chest.

He steps forward looking into my eyes, his expression fierce. “Emalie, you need to do this for me.”

“But I love you and . . .” My voice trails off.

He cups my face. “And I love you, okay? Fucking so hard. That’s why you have to leave. Let me go. Don’t call. Don’t try and see me. If you love me, you’ll do that for me.”

“Rainer, I’m scared. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then the best thing you can do for me is go.”

“Please,” I whisper.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to my lips. Then he steps back and looks into my eyes. “I’m giving you a choice. Go and let me deal with this, or stay and watch me walk away.”

“Rainer . . .”

“I’m not waiting for you to make up your mind.”

“I don’t want to lose you!” I cry.

“Then walk out that door.”

I step back, my hands shaking. He meets my eyes and I can see he’s serious, dead serious. Tears tumble down my cheeks as I take in the eyes of the man I love. He’s beautiful, and I want him to stay that way, but if me being in his life right now is putting him in danger, then I’ll do what he says. I’ll walk away.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, kid.”

Then I step forward, kissing his lips softly before turning and walking out the door.

My heart is breaking.

~*~*~*~

I
t’s been twelve days.

He’s not back.

He hasn’t been to the house, he hasn’t called—he has just disappeared. He asked me to stay away, to not call him, but today I tried. His phone is disconnected. Unable to take it anymore, I call the police. They went around to his house, but found nothing. They said unless they had solid evidence, they couldn’t track him. As far as they are concerned, he’s just a young boy who has run off.

Rainer wouldn’t do that to me.

He wouldn’t just leave.

Would he?

~*~*~*~

T
wenty-one days.

It feels so long.

I barely get out of bed most days. I just stare out my window, waiting for him to return. I go over our last conversation in my mind, and all it does is bring pain to my heart. The bracelet hanging around my wrist is the only thing I have left of him. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I’m barely hanging on. My parents are worried, but not enough to do anything about it. It’s just a broken heart, they say. She’ll get over it, they say.

I’ll never get over Rainer Torrence.

Not until the day I die.

I
press the cool ice to my eye and sigh as I find instant relief. It’s starting to bruise up now. I didn’t realize I had done so much damage falling. I mean, sure, it hurt but I didn’t know it was going to bruise up like this. It was worth it, though; that was the best sex I’ve ever had. Though since Rainer ran out after Pippa, I haven’t seen or heard from him.

It’s past midnight now, and my heart is a little broken. I want him to need me more than he needs her, but part of me is just realizing that’s not going to happen. I can’t hate him for loving her. I can’t hate her for caring about him, but she has a boyfriend she loves, and she made that choice, yet she’s not willing to give Rainer his choice. I don’t understand that, but then I don’t understand the bond they shared, so how can I judge?

“Hey,” Mimi says, stepping into my room, still in her work uniform.

“Hey Mimi.” I smile.

“What happened to your face?”

“Sex injury.”

Her eyes widen and then she giggles. “I don’t even want to know.”

“No, you probably don’t.”

“Where’s Rainer?”

I look away and she immediately comes over and sits beside me. “Honey?”

“Pippa got jealous and he ran out after her.”

“After he gave you a black eye?”

I scowl at her. “He didn’t, I did.”

“Still . . .”

I get her point, but I wave a hand anyway, trying to brush it off.

“They’re friends . . .”

“Honey,” she says gently.

“I don’t know what to do, Mimi.” I sigh, dropping my head. “How can I be angry at him when he’s been so honest with me?”

“You don’t need to be angry at him, but honey, you deserve more than being second best.”

“I love him.”

She sighs. “And you deserve to be loved back by him.”

“What am I supposed to do? Demand he chooses?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I can’t do that and you know it.”

“Why not?” she prompts. “Why can’t you ask him to choose? You’re not asking him to stop being her friend, but you deserve to be first in his eyes.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Look at me!” she demands and I lift my head, meeting her gaze. “Don’t let me see you doubting yourself, Emalie. You deserve to be first, and I understand that he can’t just switch off his feelings, but this is his issue, it isn’t yours. You need to lay down where you stand and let him decide what it is he wants to do about it.”

“I know.” I sigh. “But I just got him back, and the idea of losing him again scares me.”

“Maybe, but wouldn’t you rather lose him than to stick around wondering if you’re second?”

She’s right. I know she’s right.

And that just hurts more.

~*~*~*~

“H
ey.”

I look up from the spot on my bed to see Rainer standing at my door. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie; he looks dangerous and sexy. My heart aches and I honestly don’t know if I can just let him go. When I look at him, I know he’s in my heart, and I can’t just forget that. Even if he didn’t choose me, could I just walk away?

“Hey,” I whisper.

He walks in and holds up a bag of food, even though it’s the early hours of the morning. “You hungry?”

“Sure.”

He walks in and sits on the end of my bed, studying my face. He looks to my eye and his grow a little dark. “How’s your eye? It looks sore.”

I shrug. “I iced it. It’s fine.”

He puts the bag down and studies my face. “I should have done that. I’m sorry, kid.”

“You had other things to worry about.” I try not to let the pain shine through, but it’s there, and I can’t just switch it off.

“Yeah, but I should have looked after you, too.”

I shrug and stare at my hands. “How’s Pippa?”

“She’s okay.”

“Was it us that upset her?”

“Yeah,” he says, opening the bag. “I think she was jealous.”

“It’s not really her place to be jealous,” I say before thinking it through.

His head snaps up and he narrows his eyes. “What makes you think that?”

“She chose another man, Rainer. She sleeps with him all the time. It’s not really fair that she should be upset when it comes to you.”

He flinches, and I’m not sure if it’s because I said she sleeps with another man, or if I’ve offended him by talking about Pippa.

“Our relationship is complicated. You wouldn’t understand how it is.”

That hurts, so much I flinch. “No, you’re right, I wouldn’t. Listen, I’m tired. Can we do this another time?”

He looks up at me, confused. “Are my words offending you?”

“Yeah,” I say swinging my feet over the side of my bed. “You know what they are. I don’t understand your relationship with Pippa, and I won’t try and pretend to, but I do understand my relationship with you. I don’t like how you made me feel tonight, and I don’t like that she got jealous. Not because I dislike her, because I don’t, but because she made her choice and for whatever reason, you keep on hanging on.”

“You say those things because you don’t understand,” he grinds through his teeth.

“I know that!” I screech. “God, Rainer, I know I don’t understand, but you refuse to explain it to me so I’m left making my own assumptions.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he yells, throwing his hands up. “All I know is she understands me, she understands my pain and we have a bond. It’s hard to explain the kind of jealousy we feel. I don’t think I could ever fuck Pippa, but when it comes to the idea of another man doing it, I hate it. I’m possessive of her, because she was the only thing that kept me going. She’s the same with me. She loves Tyke, I know she does, but there’s something between us that’ll always be there.”

Tears run down my cheeks and I nod. “Okay.”

I turn and walk towards my bathroom.

“Jesus, Emalie . . .” he says, leaping up.

I turn to him. “Rainer, I love you, you know I love you, but right now I just need to process. Okay? I’m not angry at you. I’m grateful you told me in black and white terms how it is, but now you need to leave and let me be.”

“Emy . . .”

His voice is softer now, and it hurts.

“I’ll see you later.”

I step into the bathroom and close the door.

Then I slide down to my bottom and drop my head in my hands, before bursting into tears.

“L
et me go!” I bellow, squirming and fighting as three guards drag me down a hall towards what I know will be a cold, dark room. “You fuckers let me go.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll drug you again, you little bastard,” the guard holding me barks.

“Go the fuck ahead!” I yell, kicking out.

He lifts his gun and brings it down hard over my temple. I bellow in pain and my vision swims. Fuck, how the hell did I end up here? I stole drugs, fucked with the wrong people and did all I could to protect Emy, but then the fucker I stole and cheated from caught up with me and decided to sell me. Sell. Me. I’ve overhead some conversations on the long flight here, and from what I understand, I’m going to be a working slave until I earn back the debt.

That is basically a life in prison.

The guards open and door to a stale, plain room with a line of rusty old beds. There are at least ten other slaves sitting on them, most with their heads down. Some range from young, the youngest looking about fourteen, to older, one being close to eighty. The guard throws me in and I fall, landing on my knees. I turn and go to charge him, but he slams the giant door. I shake it, bellowing loudly, but nobody answers.

None of the slaves look up. Well, except one girl. She’s maybe fourteen years old and has long, ratty blond hair. Her eyes are way too big for her small face, and she looks so innocent and young. She shouldn’t be in a place like this. She meets my eyes and we stare at each other for a while before I turn and continue my rampage against the door. After a few hours, I give up and slump down. There’s no point.

That door is locked solid.

I sit against it for what feels like hours and hours. When the night falls, it finally opens. I shuffle back, ready to charge whoever walks in, but the weapons come through the door before the people and I know I’ll be shot dead like a dog before the night is through if I try to fight. So instead, I sit back, wondering how the fuck I’m going to escape this place.

“You’re all probably wondering why you’re here,” a very tall, very ugly man says. He’s got a fine, creepy-looking face and hair that’s slicked back on his head, probably because there isn’t enough of it to cover it.

No one says anything.

They don’t need to.

He tells us exactly why we’re here.

We’re slaves.

We don’t leave until our debt is paid.

We try to run? We die.

God, Emy. I’m so sorry, baby.

~*~*~*~

O
NE MONTH LATER

The blond girl got paired up with me. I feel sorry for her, because she’s so tiny and I’ve been an asshole to her. I can’t help it; I just can’t function. I can’t stop thinking about Emy. I can’t do anything but sit here and pray that she’s okay. I miss her so much it hurts.

We’ve been working on these fields for just over a month now. We’ve all lost weight, and we’re barely surviving. The sun is intense and more often than not, we end up burned and damaged from it. We’ve all grown to only care about our own survival.

These chains attached to our ankles have removed any chance of getting free. We’ve all been given a buddy, someone we’re paired up with daily. We’re responsible for each other. If our buddy tries to escape, we both die and so on. I don’t see the small blond girl trying to go anywhere; she looks as if she’s barely surviving. She is so slow and most days it makes me angry, because I just want to work hard to keep my mind from going crazy. Today she’s going extra slow, and I’ve had about enough of it.

She is barely moving her legs today, and I’m frustrated and angry. I shove the chains and slam into her. She stumbles forward, landing on her knees with a wince.

“Hurry up!” I bark, but instantly I feel bad when I see her lift her hands and there’s blood on them. Dammit. She’s just a kid. What the fuck is wrong with me? I go to reach down and help her when I hear a screeching sound from another slave. Then she cries, “I can’t take it anymore!”

I look to my left at a young girl who only arrived two weeks ago, to see she is dragging her partner across the lawn, stumbling as she tries to inch closer to the house. She’s waving her hands, which are the only things that are free, and screaming at the top of her lungs. Artreau appears on the porch of the massive home and stares at her.

This isn’t going to be good.

It doesn’t seem to bother her because she doesn’t stop. She leads her partner towards him; she isn’t doing so well, because she is now crawling desperately behind her, legs bound together. She throws her hands up and yells, “You can’t do this. It’s barbaric. I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life as your slave.”

Artreau’s face pinches and he storms down the patio, reaching into his jacket. He pulls out a gun and everyone stops, their bodies no doubt doing the same as mine. Going stone cold. He stalks towards her, pointing the gun at her head. She doesn’t stop, and I fuckin’ swear she wants him to shoot her.