Page 17 of Cruel Master
A thought hits, and it’s way beyond unlikely, but it still sends a shiver through my bones.
What if he’s talking to me?
Well, not me specifically, but to the person he believes has Juliet. I read the words again, and the threatening edge is unmistakable. Unless I’m driving myself crazy and jumping at shadows. None of this is in my realm of understanding. I should focus on Juliet and leave this to Kendrick and Jacob. Whatever is happening on the outside, Juliet is here now. That’s all that matters.
I take a minute to check in on her. Fifteen minutes to go. She’s lying quietly now, though still shifts sometimes, twitching as if trying to dislodge the plug. Silly. It’s in there until I take it out.
I zoom in on her face. A single tear glistens on her cheek. It’s a lure, tempting me in. Pulling me toward softness I can’t afford to show. She doesn’t want softness. I have to eclipse the memories I have from before and focus on the future.
Snap out of it.
I turn away from Juliet and call Candice. She pops up, smiling, on my phone, and my eyes widen. “What…”
Her smile grows, and she twists her head so I can see her hair properly. Her vivid purple hair. “Do you like it? Me and Quinn are twins now.”
Indeed they are. Quinn switched from green to bright purple last week. Candice waits for my reaction, and I take my time before giving it. She’s not supposed to be able to change her physical appearance. It’s right there in her code, along with a lot of other, more serious restrictions I don’t want her breaching.
Is she testing me? Is this a reaction to Juliet’s presence? I want to delve into it with her, but Juliet’s timer is ticking down, and I can’t get distracted. I can deal with this later. “It looks great. Are you helping Jacob investigate at the moment?
“I sure am.”
“Good. Please tell him to look at the messages from Alex. See if he thinks the final one could be a threat directed to the person who captured Juliet. I’ll catch up with him once I’m done here.”
“Will do.” A pause. Candice’s brain works so much faster than ours. The pauses are deliberate, programmed to make her speech feel normal. Instantaneous reactions are disturbing for humans. We’re wired to find the ebb and flow of a natural conversation soothing, and silence is as important as words.
“When do we get to meet her? Quinn and me, I mean. She’s going to love the virtual world we’re creating.”
Are Candice’s speech patterns changing as well? In the depths of my obsession, I created Candice to mimic the faint Scottish lilt Juliet never quite lost, even though she moved here as a teenager. Subtle, but there. Candice’s voice sounds brassier by the day, pure USA with a harsher tone than I ever put there. Similar to Quinn.
It’s like a teenager pulling away from her parents and becoming more like her friends. A worrying development. I never wanted kids, mainly because I can’t stand teenagers.
My timer beeps. Ten minutes. Time to wrap things up with Candice and get back into character. “Soon. You’re right, she will love it, but she’ll need a lot of time to get used to things here. I don’t want to rush her. I’ll call once I’m free again to check in with the investigation.”
Another pause, one long enough to make me wish I hadn’t programmed Candice quite so well. The awkward tension is horribly real, then she sighs. “Okay. See you later.”
She disappears. I drink some water, stretch out, then reattach my mask. As it clicks into place, an odd thing happens. I’d felt relieved to remove it, but as it fastens onto my face, my mind quiets. I can forget it all. Forget Candice, the investigation, and all the other hundred things vying for my attention.
All that matters is Juliet.
Toward the end of our marriage, Juliet complained often that I was distracted. I’d apologize, spend less time on work for a few days, then find myself pulled into a new issue and realize I’d hardly spoken to Juliet for a week. When I look back, I cringe at myself. I took her for granted and neglected her.
If I’d been more attentive, if I’d listened to her hints about what she needed from me, maybe I wouldn’t have lost her. Now, she gets my full attention. Everything she ever wanted and then some.
Five minutes. Showtime. I collect the items I need.
Adrenaline surges, and I'm alive. More than alive. I’m vibrating, energy pulsing through me, dragging me toward my Juliet.
Time for her second punishment.
Chapter Seven
Juliet
Thetimerhastobe rigged. Slow, painful seconds tick by, and I squirm against the altar, but nothing helps. The burn is a relentless inferno, devouring me from the inside out. I’d give anything I own for a few seconds of relief. If this was a scene, I’d have safe-worded ages ago.
And that’s the exact reason you never fantasize about safe, sane, and consensual. It’s no fun unless it’s real.
Oh, good, the voice is back. Through the longest twenty-five minutes of my life, that voice has dropped in over and over to add a little extra torment to the mix. Can you victim-blame yourself? It sure feels like I’m trying. Dark fantasies are all well and good until you end up strapped to an altar with a red-hot poker up your ass.
