Page 2 of Reclaiming Quinn
“Follow us, bitch. Don’t make me have to come back for you, because I promise, I won’t be gentle.”
Of course not. Kristopher never was. In his own way, he was worse than Ryker. At least when Ryker finished, he beat Quinn and sent him on his way. Kristopher was…. He was awful. He made Quinn beg, tell him how much he liked what Kristopher was doing to him. He didn’t care when Quinn cried out or screamed. He laughed when Quinn went silent because that spurred him on to new levels of depravity to get a reaction from Quinn.
They got to Margaret’s room, and Kristopher opened the door and gave her a rough push inside, which made her tumble to the floor. She rolled over, her gaze meeting Quinn’s.
“Quinn!”
“Shut up, bitch!” Kristopher stomped closer. Leaned over and backhanded her, causing her to yelp. “I don’t want to hear another peep out of you.”
He left the room, closed the door, and threw the bolt, which ensured Margaret couldn’t get out. Then he turned his lustful gaze at Quinn.
“I’ve got all kinds of new games for us to play.” He leaned in and licked Quinn’s neck. “Ones that are guaranteed to make you scream.” He sunk his teeth deep into Quinn’s throat, laving the blood that spilled from the wound. Then he drew back, his mouth covered in crimson. “We’re going to have a good time, you and me.”
Kristopher wrapped his fingers in Quinn’s hair and jerked him along. Quinn wanted to cry out, to plead with him to stop, tell Kristopher he was hurting him, but he knew that would make Kristopher happy. When they got to Quinn’s room, Kristopher kicked open the door and threw Quinn onto the bed. He closed the door behind him, and a shiver ran through Quinn.
“Don’t stop looking at me,” Kristopher ground out as he stripped his clothes off. “I want you to see what I’m going to do to you.”
Tremors of disgust and loathing rushed through Quinn, but he continued to stare at Kristopher.
“That’s right, boy. When I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you’d never laid eyes on me.”
Quinn wished that every damned day of his life. Ever since his parents gave him to Ryker, Quinn lived his life in fear that this would be the day he’d simply disappear like his parents had. Kristopher stalked closer, his smile predatory.
“Beg me,” he growled. “Tell me you want me.”
Quinn clamped his mouth shut. Kristopher pushed Quinn down and covered Quinn’s body with his own.
“Beg me, bitch.”
A quick, hard punch to the ribs forced the air from Quinn’s lungs. He did his best not to cry out but couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped.
“Beg me, or I’ll go down the hall and visit your friend. Don’t think I didn’t notice the looks the two of you shared.” He leaned in close, his breath hot on Quinn’s cheek. “Wanna bet she’s a screamer? Do you think you’d hear her down here?”
Quinn swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, I beg you to fuck me.”
Kristopher grinned as he moved into position. “Call me master.”
A violent shudder rolled through Quinn. “Please, master.”
Then, no matter how hard he tried, Quinn couldn’t stop the scream that escaped from his lungs as Kristopher….
Now
QUINN JOLTEDout of bed, his chest heaving. He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the tears that once again streamed down his cheeks. He touched the sheets, not surprised to find them soaked with his sweat, as they were every night. He got up, stripped the bed, and remade it before he stuffed the sheets into the laundry he’d be doing later. His new master was already being far more patient than Quinn deserved, and he wouldn’t risk that.
Most nights Quinn was wakened by the terrors that haunted his dreams, never able to escape them. Before they’d left, Gareth and Sean had sworn Ryker and Kristopher were dead and that he didn’t need to be afraid anymore. If he couldn’t accept the word of the Supreme Alpha and the only adult Omega—Quinn’s brother—then who could he believe? Still, every night he was terrified.
But why was he? Why were simple things, like sleeping, denied him? He reached for his clothes. He stilled as his hands brushed over the fabric. Master—Ryker—had told him he should wear shorts because he didn’t want to be reminded that Quinn had something between his legs. But Quinn’s new master assured him he was welcome to wear whatever he wanted. Quinn had to admit he loved the way the soft fabrics felt on his body, and he couldn’t get over the variety of bright, cheery colors he could choose from. But….
He pulled his hand back, somehow afraid of the clothes. His stomach fluttered and his hands shook as the memories assailed him. Ryker and Kristopher, their hands on Quinn’s body, the abuse. Quinn’s breath quickened and he squeezed his eyes shut.
They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re dead.
But what if Sean was wrong? What if Ryker hadn’t died? What if Kristopher came back for Quinn? What would they do if they found him? He traced his fingers over Ryker’s mark of ownership, the brand that would permanently remind him he would never be free of his former master.
