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Seduced in the Dark (The Dark Duet #2) ( PDFDrive )

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Seduced in the Dark (The Dark Duet #2) ( PDFDrive ) Seduced in the Dark CJ Roberts eBook Edition Copyright © 2012 CJ Roberts All rights reserved. ****** eBook Edition License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to others unless a separate copy has been purchased. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2012 CJ Roberts, Neurotica Books www.aboutcjroberts.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Photo credit: Kurt Paris Cover design: Pixel Mischief www.facebook.com/PixelMischiefDesign Edited by: K.A. Ekvall, S. Stevenson, A. Mennie, J. Aspinall, and Y. Diaz A Note to the Reader If you're reading this and you haven't read Captive in the Dark, turn back! You'll be lost. For the rest of you: Hello again, I'm glad you decided to continue this journey with me. As of July 2012, Captive in the Dark has sold over 10,000 copies. That's incredible! It's a goal I never thought I would reach, and honestly, I've been humbled by all of you. You've made my dream come true. I have faced adversity. I have had my share of rejection and heartbreak. I won't say it's all been worth it; there are some things I would give anything to undo. However, looking forward, I can honestly tell you: I have never had more hope. Thank you. "I am thankful to all those who said 'No' to me. It's because of them, I did it myself." – Albert Einstein This book is dedicated to: My daughter. This book took many months to write. There were days I couldn't play. There were nights I couldn't tuck you in. You're too young to understand why mommy had to work, but you forgave me anyway. Your love has changed me forever, and I will always aspire to be worthy of you. You are my legacy. My husband. There are times when I try to express how much I love you, but words fail me. You're a part of my soul and I cannot imagine my life without you in it. Suffice to say, if you ever leave me – I'm going with you. My mom. When I think about what it means to be strong; I think of you. Thank you for never giving up. I know I wouldn't be a fraction of who I am without the love and support you give me. You're my inspiration. M. McCarthy. Keep writing, little sister. Your day is coming. I love you. K.A. Ekvall. You kick my ass girl and I love you for it. I can't wait to return the favor, so please, write! A. Mennie. A compliment from you is like rain in the desert: rare and precious. Thanks for believing in me. M. Suarez. You had me at 'I read Captive in the Dark as a result of losing a bet'. My brother, Scott. Thanks for the amazing trailers, little brother. This almost makes up for all the spankings I took because of you as a kid. I love you. ;) Pixel Mischief. You're knowledge of graphic design transmogrification is only outmatched by your zest for kung-fu treachery! R. Welborn, Y. Diaz, and J. Aspinall. I can never say thank you enough for the love and support you've given me. You have catapulted my hobby into a career. The friendship that has blossomed between us is one I hope to continue to nurture in the years to come. Rilee James. What can I say, I f**king love you. Someday, we're going to turn the camera on and the world will never be the same. Lance Yellowrobe, and Johnny Osborne. With friends like you, I never know where my husband is, LOL! Love you guys. These blogs: SamsAwesomness.blogspot.com, TotallyBookedBlog.com, Maryse.Net, you have been instrumental to my success and you deserve every follower you've earned! Independent Authors. When the publishers won't have us, we have the fans. Special thanks to Shira Anthony, Anthony Beal, Daisy Dunn, Rachel Firasek, Colleen Hoover, Sonny Garrett, Tina Reber, and K. Rowe. Vino 100/The Tinderbox, Rapid City. Thanks for the good times, the great conversations, and the endless supply of quality booze. Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Epilogue "I've been doing this a long time – manipulating people to get my way. That's why you think you love me. Because I've broken you down and built you back up to believe it. It wasn't an accident. Once you leave this behind…you'll see that." – Caleb Chapter One Sunday, Aug 30, 2009 Day 2: Vivisected. It's the only word I can think of to describe how I'm feeling – vivisected. As though someone has cut me open with a scalpel, the pain not sinking in until the flesh begins to separate and my blood bubbles out. I can hear the crack as my ribs are flayed open. Slowly, my organs, wet and sticky, are pulled out of me one at a time. Until I am hollow. Hollow and yet, in excruciating pain – still alive. Still. Alive. Above me, there are sterile and industrial fluorescent lights. One of the bulbs is threatening to go out and it flickers, buzzes, and struggles to stay alive. I've been transfixed by its Morse code for the last hour. On-off-buzz-buzz-on-off. My eyes hurt. I keep staring. Following along with my own Morse code: Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Caleb. Don't think about him. Somewhere, I'm being watched. There's always someone here. There's someone to tug on my various cables. One to watch my heart, another my breathing, one to keep me numb. Don't think about him. Cables. They extend from my hand, where I receive my liquids and my drugs. They wind from my chest to monitor the beating of my heart. Sometimes I hold my breath, just to see if it will stop. Instead, it beats harder and faster in my chest and I gasp for breath. Buzzzzz-on-off. There's someone who tries to feed me. She tells me her name, but I don't care. She doesn't matter. No one does. Nothing really matters. She asks me my name as though her kindness and gentleness will move me to speak. I never answer. I never eat. My name is Kitten and my master is gone. What could possibly be more important? In the corner of my mind, I see him, watching me in the shadows. "Do you really think begging is going to work?" asks Ghost Caleb. He smiles. I cry. Loud, horrible, sounds come out of me, so violent they shake my whole body. I can't make it stop. I want Caleb. I get drugs instead. The food comes through a tube while I sleep. There's always someone watching. Always. I want to leave this place. There's nothing wrong with me. If Caleb were here, I'd walk out of this place, happy, smiling and complete. But he's gone. And they won't let me grieve for him in peace. *** Day 3: I close my eyes and open them slowly. Caleb is standing over me. My heart races and tears of pure joy flood my eyes. He's finally here. He's finally come for me. His face is warm, his smile broad. There is a familiar tilt to his lips and I know he's thinking something naughty. A familiar tingle spreads throughout my belly and creeps down toward my pussy making it swell and throb. I haven't had an orgasm in days and I've become very accustomed to them. "Should I let you go? You look so sexy when you're tied down," he says through a smile. "I missed you," I try to say. My mouth is unbelievably dry. My tongue feels heavy and dead in my mouth. My lips seem to have fared no better. They are chapped and when I scrape my tongue over my bottom lip, I can't help but think of sandpaper. The tube they have been using to feed me is crammed up my left nostril and fed down the back of my throat. It itches. I can't scratch it. It hurts. I can't shake it free. I feel it every time I swallow and it tastes of antiseptic. "I'm sorry," Caleb says. "For what?" I whisper. I want him to tell me he's sorry for not telling me sooner…that he loves me. "For the restraints," he says. I frown. He loves restraints. "As soon as we can be sure of your mental state, we can remove them." This is wrong. Really wrong. It's the drugs. "Do you know why you're here, Olivia?" a woman asks, softly. I am not Olivia. I'm not that girl anymore. "I'm Dr. Janice Sloan. I'm a forensic social worker for the Federal Bureau of Investigation," she says, "The police were able to identify you from your missing person's report. Your friend Nicole reported your abduction. We've been looking for you. Your mother has been very worried." I'm tempted to speak, so I can tell her to shut the fuck up. I can practically feel my skin crawling. Stop! Stop talking to me. But she won't. There will be more questions, the same questions, and this time I might have to answer them. I know it's the only way they'll let me go. They keep me strapped down and pumped full of drugs; they say I tried to hurt my nurse. I tell them they tried to hurt me first. I never asked to be brought to the hospital. The blood wasn't mine and the original owner wouldn't miss it. I was fairly certain he was dead. I should know – I killed him. "I know this can't be easy for you. What you've been through…" I hear her swallow. "I can't imagine it," she continues. It reeks of pity and I don't want it. Not from her. She reaches her hand out to touch mine and I instantly recoil. The harsh clang of my hands smacking against the railing of my bed is like a threat of violence. I am more than willing to inflict violence if she tries to touch me again. She holds up both her hands and steps away. My breathing begins to settle and the black ring surrounding my vision dissipates, until the world is once again in high definition, color. Now that she has drawn my attention, I notice she isn't alone. There is a man with her. He cocks his head and stares at me like I am a riddle he wants to solve. The look is heartbreakingly familiar. I roll my head toward the window, staring at the light filtering through the horizontal blinds. My stomach clenches. Caleb. His name whispers through my mind. He used to look at me that way. I wonder why, since he seemed so capable of reading my mind. My body aches. I miss him. I miss him so much. I feel tears again, sliding down the corners of my eyes. Dr. Sloan, doesn't relent, "How are you feeling? I've been briefed by the social worker who was present during your initial exam, as well as the events witnessed by the Laredo Police Department." I swallow hard. Memories assault me, but I fight them. This is exactly what I didn't want. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm here to help you. You're being held on charges of assault against federal border patrol officers, possession of a weapon, resisting arrest, and suspicion of felony murder. I'm here to determine your competency, but also to assist you. I'm sure you have your reasons for what happened, but I can't help you if you won't talk to me. Please, Olivia. Let me help you," Dr. Sloan says. My panic is rising. Already my chest is heaving and the world is black around the edges. Tears choke me around the tube in my throat. The fucking pain of the post-Caleb world is endless. I knew it would be. "Your mother is trying to find someone to take care of your brothers and sisters, so she can come see you," she says. NO! Stay away. "She should be here in the next day or two. You can talk to her on the phone if you'd like." I am whimpering. I want her to stop. I want them all to go away – this woman, the man in the corner, my mother, my siblings, even Nicole. I don't want to hear them. I don't want to see them. Go away, go away, go away. I scream bloody fucking murder. I won't go back! "Caleb!" I scream. "Help me!" My body wants to curl in on itself but can't. I am bound, like a caged animal on display. They want to know what's wrong, but they will never, and can never understand. I can never tell them. This pain is mine to keep. I scream and scream and scream until someone rushes in and presses all my magic buttons. The drugs take over. Caleb. *** Day 5: I'm fully aware I am in the psych ward of the hospital. I've been told many times. I can't help but laugh inwardly at the irony. They will let me go once I'm able to tell them to release me. But I won't speak. I am literally holding myself hostage. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I belong here. The bruises on my wrists and ankles are an angry shade of purple. I suppose I fought pretty hard. I miss the restraints. In a way, they allowed me the freedom to writhe and flail. They gave me something and someone to fight against. Without them…I feel like a traitor. No longer a prisoner, I seem to be allowing them to keep me here. I eat when they bring me food, to keep me from having that fucking tube in my nose. I shower when they say I must. I get back in my bed like a good little girl. I float away with the drugs. Oh, how I love the drugs. But, they never leave me alone. There is always someone here, watching me like I'm a lab experiment. Whenever the fog of the drugs lifts, they are here: Dr. Sloan, or her 'associate', Agent Reed. He likes to stare at me. I stare back. The first one to look away is the loser. Often, it's me. His glare is unnerving. In Reed's eyes I see a familiar determination and a cunning I have never been a match for. "Are you hungry?" he asked, soft and low. I feel as though he is telling me I have no choice but to break. Eventually, he'll get what he wants from me. I taunt him with my silence. Sometimes he smirks at me. And then, Caleb's specter seems much more pronounced. When I failed to respond, the fingers of his right hand trailed across the underside of my right breast. On this particular day, he looks away from me first and returns his attention to the laptop in front of him. He types, and then scrolls through information I can't see. I took a sharp breath and leaned away from his touch, forcing my tightly shut eyes into the skin of my upraised arm. Slowly he reaches for his briefcase on the ground, next to his chair and pulls out a few brown folders. He opens one and makes some notes while furrowing his brow. His lips caressed the shell of my ear… I know. I know Caleb is not here. I'm fucked in the head. Factually, I take stock of the fact Agent Reed is a very good-looking man. Not as handsome as Caleb. Still, he strikes me as equally intense. His pitch black hair seems a little too long for his profession, but he keeps it impeccably groomed. He wears the A-typical, movie G-man outfit: white shirt, black suit, dark-colored tie. He makes it look good though, like he'd be wearing it even if it weren't a requirement. I wonder what he'd look like without it on— Caleb has made me into this. He admitted it. I am everything he wanted me to be. And in the end, what did I get in return? I knew he smiled, though I couldn't see it. A shiver, so strong my body nearly jerked toward his, ran down my spine. "You're mother should be here today," says Agent Reed. His tone is detached, but he keeps glancing at me sidelong. He's eager for my reaction. My heart stutters, but the jolt is over quickly and once again I simply feel…nothing. She is my mother; I am her daughter. It's inevitable. Eventually, I will have to see her. I know I'll have to say the words when I do. I'll have to tell her I don't want to go back with her. I'll have to tell her to forget all about me. I've been grateful for the reprieve, but really – it's taken her five days to get here? Perhaps telling her to leave me alone will be easier than I thought. My feelings are ambiguous on the subject. "Tell me about where you've been for almost four months. Tell me where you got the gun and the money, and I'll see to it your mom walks you out of here today." Reed says. His tone is salacious, as though he wants me to buy what he's selling. No thanks. They know about the money – it didn't take them long. I look at him with confused eyes and an innocent head tilt. Money? He stares at me for a second, then looks down at his folders and writes something mysterious. Agent Reed isn't buying my bullshit. He isn't impressed. At least he isn't a complete fool. His lips caressed the shell of my ear, "Are you going to answer? Or must I force you again?" Tick-tock – I can't hide behind my silence forever. There are some pretty serious charges against me. I guess one does not simply walk into the U.S. from Mexico. I know I should cooperate, tell him the story and get him on my side, but I just can't do it. If I break my silence, I will never be able to leave this behind. My entire life will forever be overshadowed by the last four months. More than that, I don't know what the fuck to say! What can I say? For the hundredth time today, I miss, Caleb. Something drips onto my neck and I realize I'm crying. I wonder how long Agent Reed has been watching me, waiting for me to break down and give in. I feel lost and his flicker of concern suddenly seems like a lifeline. It's hard not to see Caleb, in his stead. "Yes," I stammered, "I'm hungry." It is a few long, tense, seconds before he breaks the unending silence. "You may not believe me, but I have your best interests in mind. If you won't try to help us, help you, things will get out of your control. And quickly." He pauses. "I need information. If you're afraid, we can protect you, but you have to give us a sign of good faith. Every day you say nothing, your window of opportunity shrinks." He stares at me, and I can feel him willing me with his powerful, dark eyes, to give him the answers he is looking for. For a moment, I want to believe he really does want to help me. Could I afford to trust a stranger? What did he want from me that he couldn't just take? My mouth opens, words are crouched on the tip of my tongue. He'll hurt him if you tell. My mouth slams shut. Agent Reed looks frustrated. As well he should be, I suppose. He takes another deep breath and delivers me a look that says, 'Okay, you asked for it.' He reaches down and grabs one of the brown folders he was looking at earlier. He opens it, stares at it, then at me. He leaned forward and held the delicious smelling morsel to my lips. For a moment he looks unsure, but then determined. He removes a sheet from the file and walks toward me, the paper held loosely in one hand. I almost don't want to see what it is, but I can't help it. I have to see. My heart lurches! Every fiber of my being is suddenly singing. Tears sting my eyes and a sound mimicking both sorrow and joy bubbles out my mouth before I can keep it in check. It's a picture of Caleb! It's a picture of his beautiful, scolding face. I want it so badly I reach for it, fingers stretching to get closer to his image. With an almost unabashed relief I opened my mouth, but he snatched it away. "You know this man?" Agent Reed says, but his tone makes it obvious he knows I do. This is his game. It's a good one. Through choked sobs, I reach for the photo again. Agent Reed keeps the photo just out of my reach. "You son of a bitch," I whisper hoarsely, staring at that one piece of paper. If I blink, would it disappear? He offered again. I don't reach for the photo again, but I can't keep from looking at it. Caleb is younger in the photo, but not by much. He's still my Caleb. His blond hair is being blown up in the back and his Caribbean- blue eyes are glorious as they scowl at the camera. His mouth, so full and perfect for kissing is set in an annoyed line across his perfect face. He wears a buttoned up shirt, in white, the obviously billowing wind offers tantalizing glimpses of his sun-kissed throat. It's my Caleb. I want my Caleb. I glare at Agent Reed. With my rage in every syllable, I break my vow of silence. "Give. Me. That." Agent Reed's eyes go wide for a fraction of a second. Smug satisfaction is there, then gone. . Round one goes to the Agent. "So you do know him?" he mocks. I glare at him. He steps closer, picture held out. And again. I go for it and he pulls it back. Each time I crawled closer and closer, until I was pressed between his legs, my hands on either side of his body. Caleb taught me a few things about starting fights I can't win. He would want me to use my head and exploit anything I have to offer to get what I want. I force myself to portray calmness and sorrow. The sadness comes easy. "I…I knew him." I purposely stare at my lap and let my tears fall. "Knew him?" Agent Reed says curiously. I nod and let sobs fill the room. "What happened to him?" he asks. I want him curious. "Give me the picture," I whisper. "Tell me what I want to know," he counters. I know I have him where I want him. "He…." I am overcome by grief. I don't have to manufacture my pain…I am my pain. "He died in my fucking arms." My mind immediately recalls seeing Caleb, expression blank, his body covered in dirt, and blood. It was the moment I lost him. Only hours before, he'd held me in his arms and I had thought everything was finally going to be okay. One knock on the door…and everything changed. Agent Reed takes a tentative step forward, "This isn't easy for you, I can tell, but I need to know how, Miss Ruiz." "Give me the picture," I sob. He takes another step. "Tell me how," he whispers. He's played this game before. I look up and glower at him from under my tear-soaked lashes, "Protecting me." "From what?" He steps closer, so close, and so eager. "From, Rafiq." Without another word, Agent Reed turns away to remove another photo from the file and turns it toward me, "This man?" I hiss. Actually, fucking hiss. We're both shocked by my reaction. I never knew I could be so feral. I rather like it. I feel capable of anything. Suddenly I threw my arms up around his hand, wrapped my mouth around his fingers to get the food away from him. Oh my god, so good. Agent Reed is close and he isn't prepared when I grab him by the collar of his suit and crush his fucking mouth with mine. He drops the folder. Mine! Despite his shock, Agent Reed is able to wrestle me onto the bed. He snaps his cuffs on my wrist and secures me to the bed. Before I can reach for the folder, he snaps it away. He moved quickly, his fingers found my tongue and pinched viciously while his other hand dug into the sides of my neck. Confusion and anger twist his features. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he whispers and wipes his lips slowly, looking at his fingers as though the answer is somehow written across them. The food fell from between my lips to the floor and I howled around his fingers at the loss. When I try to speak, instead, I scream my frustration, tears of anger filling my eyes. "You're very proud and very spoiled and I'm going to beat it out of you twice." When the nurse scrambles in, bewildered and a hand to her heart, Agent Reed politely tells her to get lost. "Better?" he asks me, raising a brow. I stare at my cuffed hands. "Not even close…" Vivisected. On-off-buzz-buzz-on-off. Caleb, I miss you. "Help me catch him, Olivia." He pauses; his expression is calculated but he needs something too. "I know I'm not a nice guy, but maybe you need someone like me in your corner." Caleb. Go away, go away, go away. My heart aches. "Please…give me the picture," I plead. Agent Reed steps within my line of sight, but I only stare at his tie. "If I give you the picture, will you tell me what happened? Will you answer my questions?" I suck my bottom lip, running my tongue across it as I hold it between my teeth. It's now or never and never isn't truly an option. The inevitable is upon me. "Uncuff me." The agent's eyes flicker over me. I know his mind must be racing with ideas on how to make me talk. Trust is a two way street. Show me yours, and I'll show you mine. He steps toward me, slowly, and cautiously removes the cuff from my wrist. "Well?" he says. "I'll tell you. Only, you. In exchange, you'll give me any pictures you have of him and get me out of here." My heart is beating a frantic tattoo in my chest, but I gather my courage. I'm a survivor. I hold my hand out. "Give me the picture." Agent Reed's mouth twists with disappointment at the knowledge he cannot win this point from me. Reluctantly, he gathers his folder and hands me the photo of Caleb. "You'll have to tell me what you know first, and then I can talk to my superiors and make a deal. I promise I'll do whatever I can to protect you, but you have to start talking. You have to tell me why it looks like you're more involved in this than any eighteen-year-old-girl has any right to be." No one else exists as I stare at Caleb's face. I sob and trace the familiar lines of his face.I love you, Caleb. "I'm gonna go get some coffee," says Agent Reed, his voice resigned but still determined, "but when I come back, I expect answers." I don't notice when he leaves, or care. But I know he's giving me time to grieve in peace. He walked out of the room and shut the door. This time I heard the lock. For the first time in five days, I am left alone. I suspect it will be the last time, for a while, Caleb and I will have to spend together. With trembling lips, I kiss him. Chapter Two It seemed to Caleb, the nature of human beings revolved around one empirical truth: we want what we cannot have. For Eve, it was the fruit of the forbidden tree. For Caleb, it was Livvie. The night had been a fitful one. Livvie whimpered and trembled in her sleep and Caleb's chest seemed to contract with every sound. He had given her more morphine and after some time, her body seemed to quiet down though there still seemed to be frenzied movement behind her eyelids. Nightmares, he assumed. Without fear of awkwardness or reproach, he felt a compulsion to touch her. He held her close and comforted them both, but he could not get Rafiq's text out of his mind: How soon would he land in Mexico? How would he react to Livvie and her broken condition? How long did he have with Livvie before she was taken away from him? Taken. Away. Strange, horrible, and foreign words. He closed his eyes and set his mind to reality. You're giving her away. He opened his eyes. And the sooner, the better. He couldn't argue with logic. It had kept him alive for longer than he could remember. He was cold and efficient. He did not dally with questions of morality. Still, he wanted to argue with logic. He wanted to find reason in what he felt to pacify the hardened man inside his head. But he couldn't. The truth was – he wanted her. The truth was also, it was never meant to be. He pulled Livvie even closer, careful not to crush her ribs or injured shoulder and buried his nose in her long hair, trying to smell her scent. He had told her he wasn't her Prince Charming, but what he hadn't said, was he wished he could be. Once upon a time, he may have been…normal. Before he had been stolen, before the beatings and the rapes and the killing – he could have been something different than what he was. He had never thought like this, never wondered about the roads taken or not taken. His life was lived in the present and without the angst of fantasies. But he fantasized now. He fantasized about being the sort of man who could give, Livvie, all she ever wanted. The kind of man she could…. But you're not that man, are you? Caleb sighed, knowing the answer. The fantasies of others had never confused him, but his own, left him dissatisfied with the life he'd accepted and even enjoyed from time to time. He wanted it to go away, the longing, and the feelings of regret. He wanted to live for the hunt and kill – it had been the only thing to make sense to him for so very long. Even in those moments of darkness, when his drive had flagged and he questioned the possibility of ever finding Vladek – he had never thought to be anything other than what he was. Yet, in just three and a half weeks with Livvie, most of which, she spent locked in a dark room, it all seemed to be evaporating. It was stupid, naïve, and dangerous. A person was incapable of changing fundamentally in such a short period of time. He wasn't different. And yet, he felt different and not even logic could alter that. If it hadn't been for the memories, those awful, fucking memories of Narweh, beating and raping him. If he hadn't seen Livvie, covered in blood, bruised and shuddering in that biker's arms – he wouldn't feel like his entire world was caving in on him. God! What he'd done to make them pay. It had been the kind of rage he hadn't felt in a very long time. He didn't regret it either. He'd savored the look on those biker's faces as he'd plunged his knife deep into Tiny, and his blood sprayed Caleb, the walls, everything. Revenge! That was his purpose. It felt good to have a purpose. He was certain he'd feel the rush again. He'd feel it the second Vladek's eyes dawned with realization and it would carry through until Vladek took his last, gasping breath. Caleb shivered. He wanted to feel the satisfaction of that moment. He wanted to feel it more than anything. He wanted it more than he wanted the girl. She'll hate you. Forever. She'll want vengeance. "I know," Caleb whispered into the darkness of the room. Unable to resist the numbness sleep offered, he let himself be carried into the dark. *** The boy refused to bathe. "Caleb, I will not tell you again! You stink! You stink, horribly. It's been days and you're still covered in blood. Someone will see you and then you will have real trouble on your hands, boy." "I amKéleb. Dog! I've ripped my master to pieces. I've tasted blood and I like it! I will not wash it off. I want to wear it forever, as a badge of honor." Rafiq's dark face became drawn, eyes narrowed. "Bathe. Now." The boy squared his young shoulders and glowered at his new master. Rafiq was handsome, much, much, more so than Narweh, the trained whore in him was...