Strike ( Book 4: Stronger Series )

18. A Deadly Promise

"Crawl."

The most pathetic whimper managed to escape my lips to accompany my heavy painful breaths. My pussy was still on fire from Darren's violent display of "affection" while my back bore the brunt of his devotion to my training and conditioning. I had a body that rivaled diamonds, he'd told me, which meant physically ... I could withstand anything. I would withstand anything.

He gave me more credit than I ever wanted.

Rising to my hands and knees, my arms shaking with strain while my legs wobbled, I forced my body to move. Because if I didn't move it, he would.

One hand in front of the other, I crawled across the carpet floor to where Darren was sitting, his knees spread wide to accommodate his favorite possession during her insufferable days in that god-forsaken basement.

"That's my good girl," he drawled, the smoothness of his voice indicating his approval.

It was enough to bring me some relief, knowing I'd pleased him at least.

When I reached him, I kneeled in front of him like I was supposed to, sitting back on my legs and forcing myself to keep from wavering while I waited for his next command. Under half hooded heavy lids, I kept my eyes lowered, hoping he wouldn't make we wait too long. He surprised me by pulling me closer and resting my head against his thigh.

I wanted to cry the moment he started to pet my hair. Any source of comfort coming from him was a precious gift ... and I was a sucker for it every time.

It was so classic, what he was doing, yet my mind was helpless to stop it.

The systematic break down of punishment and reward was slowly killing me. I could feel my mind twisting in the perverse way he wanted, catching myself in an eagerness to please him just so he wouldn't hurt me as badly – just so he would love me – and then revolting in disgust at how easily I'd given in.

But there were no breaks. No negotiations, no deals to be made or promises to be kept. My isolation was just as constant as my fear of displeasing him. Weeks of fighting became useless and tiresome, and soon, all I had left was my endurance. How much pain and suffering I was able to take before he was fully satisfied that I had earned my pleasure from him.

This went on until my objective had finally started to shift from vengeful defiance to straight survival.

The strong fingers stroking my hair suddenly gripped it in a harsh tug, spiking my stomach with fear.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart."

I hated myself when I didn't even hesitate.

Five a.m. hit me like a slap in the face. My usual wake up time wasn't until six thirty a.m., but for some reason, I was wide-awake. Brushing the hair from my face, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, instinctively taking note that Darren wasn't in the room.

I wasn't sure if he would honor the tradition of not seeing each other before the wedding, but evidently, he could survive one night without me in his bed.

Fuck, I was getting married today.

Turning to the alarm clock, I contemplated if it was better to toss and turn in bed for an hour and a half or just go ahead and get up to work off my anxiety.

Sid always encouraged me to sweat out my anxiety rather than just wait it out, so that's what I was going to do.

Pulling back the covers, I hopped out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Of course, the second I move, Camaro wakes from her bed and barks at me.