Page 90 of Spark

In one fluid motion, Darren stood, pulling me up with him, and held me close. Those eyes, dark and menacing, swallowed me up in a whirlpool of desire and obsession, and I felt my breaths suddenly becoming heavier. Looking up into those dark, brooding eyes, I felt sickened when I realized I wanted him to kiss me. It made my heart pound in my chest. I hated how the only thing Darren had to do to make my heart race was to give me a certain look, one that petrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

“At least, you can admit it,” I whispered, but the lust in my own voice threw me off.

Without warning, Darren’s hand curled around the back of my neck and pulled me to him. I couldn’t help but gasp as his lips met mine, making me melt into him and giving him exactly what he wanted—what I wanted. Forcing my mouth open wider, his tongue delved into mine, seeking and destroying any chance of denying how much I loved it.

“Yes, at least I can voluntarily admit to something,” Darren murmured, breaking the kiss. “Unlike you… who can’t even admit to how much you love the way I touch you.” His chin rested against my forehead while the butterflies in my stomach swarmed like locusts. A fight was brewing again. I could feel it.

“Which part?” I asked bravely, my eyes down low as I fought to catch my breath. “The tender way you break my bones or the way you lovingly force orgasms from my body?”

Darren instantly gripped me tighter and jerked me toward him. “Which do you prefer, Jaden? Pleasure or pain? Because I’m beginning to think you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe I am,” I replied defiantly. “Maybe I like the pain because it reminds me of why I still hate you so much. Why I should still hate you.”

“You didn’t hate me five minutes ago,” he countered confidently.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what mask I wear, Darren. I might let myself go for a moment, but eventually, the truth always finds its way back. I’m grateful that you’ve done all this for me,” I said, eying the scene around us, “but if you think this changes anything between us, you’re wrong. Because all of this is your mask, and I’m smart enough to know when I’m being played.”

Darren sighed, releasing a heavy breath through his nose. The weight of his eyes on me was enough to make me look away, regretting my bravery. This man had chained me, beaten me, raped me, killed my uncle, and then killed me. And he wanted me to admit I wanted his touch? I should torch myself for admitting such a stupid and reckless idea even in my head. What the fuck was wrong with me?

… survival…

No… fuck no…

“Boss!” I heard someone call from the sliding door of the house. Darren reluctantly released me from his gaze and turned to look over his shoulder. “There’s an important call for you,” said a guard holding the door open. Darren nodded and turned back to me, disappointment filling his eyes. He leaned in to kiss me on the side of my temple.

“Pain it is, then,” he whispered coldly and stepped away from me without another glance.

I felt my body shiver, and I didn’t know if it was from his absence or the promise in his words. When he’d fully disappeared from my sight, Romero and Alex appeared from the sliding door. They came over to me, shoulders hunched from the cold as they did not wear jackets. Great.

“Mr. Davis would like for you to come inside now,” he said. I nodded and followed him in without argument. “You’re to remain in your room for the rest of the day.”

Shocker.

I went back to our room, changing out of my winter clothes and grabbing my iPod and a deck of cards from my bag. Sitting on the floor in front of the fire, I plugged in my headphones and turned up my music—Evanescence to soothe the dark shadow consuming me.

One by one, I stacked the cards on top of each other, carefully balancing each one as I stumbled from one thought to the next. It was odd how calming it was just building a house of cards, how distracting it could be, yet it gave me the focus I needed to collect my thoughts.

God, I was stupid. I wanted to battle so badly, to remain defiant and stubborn and for what? So I could convince Darren to hurt me more so I could continue to drown in my own hatred for him? What kind of self-destructive shit was that? Maybe I really did need therapy.

How could I allow myself to get past all the torment he’d put me through? I’d been able to block it out before, too afraid of upsetting him and igniting his wrath. But now that he was trying to treat me with more luxury, the guilt of enjoying it settled in because I knew why I shouldn’t accept it, enjoy it. It would cost me way too much.

I just didn’t want to like Darren, even if it was only for a second. I didn’t want to appreciate a single ounce of his lavish hospitality or the gifts he granted me… or even the pleasure he could give me. I didn’t even want his mercy. If I accepted anything he gave me with genuine happiness, then it felt like I was somehow forgiving him for everything he’d ever done to me. Like an abusive husband buying his wife a diamond necklace for giving her a black eye the night before. Gifts were not Band-Aids, and they certainly weren’t apologies. They were sparkly pieces of manipulation, and I would not take the bait. They didn’t make anything better and neither would this goddamn trip.

But still, I lived in a world that required more compromising on my part than ever. Darren rarely compromised. It was his way, and it was the only way, yet here I was, sitting in front of a fire in Anchorage, Alaska, surrounded by mountains and snow on Christmas Eve. Darren didn’t have to bring me here; he didn’t have to have the house decorated for me. For all fucks given, he could have left me in that fucking cage in the basement until I forgot my own name. But again, here I was.

Some time later, I heard the door open and saw Romero from the corner of my eye bring in my dinner. He set it on the table in the middle of the room and then walked out. I never even touched it. I had no appetite, and I didn’t want to leave the warmth of my spot.

My card house grew and grew in size and length. Occasionally a stack would fall, but I’d fix it quickly, making it bigger and better each time. It was difficult when I fought with myself, wrestling over how mentally strong I was. I worried about long-term trauma, and that if I gave into Darren’s lavish lifestyle, if I accepted the gifts and privileges with an open heart, I’d stop seeing the mask he wore; I’d just believe it was real. I’d learn to ignore it to the point where I wouldn’t even see the lie anymore. I didn’t want to come to accept him, but I didn’t want to feel so angry all the time either, so fucking hopeless. I wanted to feel whole, not hollow, but the only thing Darren would fill me with was fear. If I allowed him to fill it with something else, what would that make me? A traitor? Or a survivor?

I would never love him, but I needed to supplement my hatred with something else. Something I could live with. I just didn’t know what; it would require one hell of an admission. And an admission was exactly what Darren wanted.

I thought about what he’d said after we battled in the snow, about how I couldn’t verbally admit to him that I craved his touch. It felt like every word was a descent into Hell, and once they were spoken, I could never take them back. Darren would make certain they’d haunt me forever. But though it might cost me whatever was left of my pride, what would it buy me? Would it bring me progress or would it only be used against me?

Just thinking about his hands on my body and what he could do, what he could make me feel, had me already heating up inside. I knew it was obvious that when I gave myself over and submitted to him, my body language couldn’t speak the truth any louder than if I had actually spoken it. I wanted the pain and the pleasure, but not one without the other. The pain reminded me that Darren was a monster, and the pleasure reminded me I could handle it.

Yes, I could admit that I wanted Darren for the good things he could make me feel, for the way my blood rushed when he looked at me, the way my heart skipped when he spoke, and the way my core clenched with need every time he touched me. My hatred for Darren easily matched my attraction to him, and when I found those moments when I could let go of my hatred and focus on what he was doing to me, I could forget. And ignorance was fucking bliss.

So, yes, I wanted him, but I wanted my fucking freedom more.

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