My Sweet Captive Read online

  My Sweet Captive

  Julia Sykes

  Copyright © 2017 by Julia Sykes

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  My Sweet Captive

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  My Sweet Captive

  There was nothing particularly remarkable about the woman bound to the chair before me, except for her flame red hair. I studied her with detached interest as she blinked and shook her head in an attempt to come back to full consciousness. I’d sent my men to pick her up. They’d drugged her and brought her here, to me.

  Me. Not my sadistic brother. But I’d made the mistake of informing Cristian that the young woman had been caught spying on our people, and he had insisted on being the one to interrogate her.

  I swallowed hard and tore my eyes away from the gleam of the wicked hunting knife he held at his side. I knew what it felt like to be carved up, tortured. The scars on my chest and face wouldn’t allow me to forget it.

  Sweat beaded on the back of my neck, but I kept my expression carefully blank. I couldn’t show any sign of weakness around my brother.

  The woman’s eyes finally focused on Cristian and the knife he held. I caught a flash of lovely sky blue as her pale lashes fluttered and then flew wide on a gasp. She twisted against the ropes that bound her arms behind the metal chair. I couldn’t help but note how her struggles made her small breasts strain against her blouse. Her little fearful whimper made something dark stir inside my chest.

  I took a breath and pushed down my more perverted instincts. This woman wasn’t mine to train. She was facing a horrific death at the hands of my brother. One that I would have to watch and pretend it didn’t bother me to see her ruby blood splatter all over the concrete basement floor.

  “You don’t want to do this,” she choked out, her voice high and thin. “Let me go.”

  An interesting response. She was certainly fearful, but her first instinct wasn’t to beg for her life. She was warning Cristian not to hurt her. Despite her situation, the woman—Samantha—was brave.

  My stomach churned. I was going to have to watch my brother break her of that bravery before he finally killed her.

  “No, Samantha,” he said, his tone chillingly calm. “You’re never leaving this place. Not alive, at least. If you answer my questions, I might be inclined to mercy. Otherwise…”

  He let the unspoken threat hang in the air. My brother knew just how to extract the most toxic fear from his victims.

  We have to do this, I reasoned. She’s nothing to me. Nothing but a threat that needs to be dealt with.

  I’d killed plenty of men—more than I could remember. But I hated watching Cristian tear people apart, especially women. I might have my own sadistic streak when it came to women, but I never truly harmed them.

  That made me less of a monster, didn’t it?

  Samantha gasped in several deep breaths, visibly mastering her fear. “My friends will find me,” she flung out, defiant.

  “If they do, they won’t find more than what’s left of your body.”

  I remained silent, allowing Cristian to terrorize her while I recorded the horrific events on my smart phone. I wanted no part of this, and although watching her death would make me sick, it was almost a relief that I didn’t have to question her like this myself. I could let my brother get his hands dirty.

  Samantha redoubled her efforts to twist out of the ropes that bound her. “You can’t hurt me,” she said desperately. “If you kill me, my friends will hunt you down.”

  Cristian grinned, baring his perfect white teeth. “I want them to know what I’ve done. Your death will be a warning. We’re going to send a little message to your friends.”

  He gestured toward me, and Samantha looked directly at me. First, her eyes caught on the phone that was recording her torture. Then her gaze lifted slightly, finding my face. Her eyes met mine for a split second before she saw the scar that twisted my face. She shuddered and tore her eyes away.

  Something ugly stirred in my gut. Cristian laughed, delighted at her reaction. “What, you don’t like my little brother?” he taunted. “Maybe I’ll give you to him to play with, after I’m finished with you. He has… very unique tastes.”

  I bit back the demand that he give her to me now. If he wanted me to get answers out of her, I could do that without mutilating her.

  But I didn’t make demands of my brother. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

  He touched her freckled cheek, and she cringed away. “I think Andrés will like you. Such pale skin. It will mark up nicely.”

  I hated that his words rang true. I’d so much rather see the marks of my whip leaving their angry red brand on her skin than see him cutting into her flesh.

  Cristian shook his head slightly, still smiling. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. He can have you when I’m done. I’m going to extract my answers first.”

  He touched the tip of the knife to her throat, and her breath stuttered. A foolish urge to surge forward and tear him away from her rushed through me, but I quickly mastered it. I might be bigger than my brother, but he was far more powerful in so many ways.

  All I could do was hope that Samantha gave him the answers he wanted before he hurt her too badly. I wasn’t sure if he was threatening to give her to me in order to scare her or if he was taunting us both. He knew I’d rather have her for myself than witness the gory scene he intended for her. He was teasing me, testing me. Tormenting me just as he was terrorizing her.

  Cristian stepped behind her so my camera could get a clearer view. He intended to send this footage to whoever she was working for as a warning.

  His fist tangled in her coppery hair, and he tugged her head back sharply, further baring her throat to his knife. She stared up at him, her breaths turning shallow as she focused solely on the threat he posed.

  He scratched the knifepoint upward from her throat, grazing under her chin. Her skin turned pink beneath the blade, but he didn’t cut into her. Not yet.

  He pressed the flat of the blade against her full lips, and I tensed. It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty mouth. There were so many other ways I’d like to use it.

  She whimpered again, the sound going straight to my cock. I might not want Cristian to torture her, but seeing her bound and frightened called to my darker urges. I wished I were the one towering over her, feeling her silken hair wrapped around my fist as I commanded her full attention.

  Cristian decided to show a shred of mercy, and he lifted the knife from her lips. She gasped in a quick breath before the blade returned to her throat.

  “You were in my territory today, watching my people,” he drawled. “One of my men followed you home. Who are you working for?” The last held a harsh ring of command.

  “I’m FBI,” she whispered.

  Fuck. We’d abducted a fed? If she was telling the truth, we’d just made a grave mistake. It was one thing to protect our product from rivals. Provoking the feds was stupid and reckless.

  Cristian frowned. “A sniper made an attempt on my life a few days ago. The feds wouldn’t assassinate me. Who are you really working for?”

  He increased the pressure of the knife, and a drop of crimson beaded on her throat.

  “I really am FBI,” she said in a rush. “My name is Samantha Browning. I’m a tech analyst. Well, I was. I’m a field agent now. I’m not trying to kill you. We’re investigating you. You have to know you’re on our radar. Please, I swear I’m FBI.”
She was babbling, fear making the truth spill from her lips.

  She might be a very accomplished liar, but I doubted it. I could practically feel the terror pulsing off her, could see the fine tremors that wracked her slender body.

  Cristian studied her for a moment, considering. “You’re a tech analyst?” he said slowly, mulling over the information. “That means you have access to all the evidence the feds have on me. If you’re telling the truth about who you are.”

  “I am,” she said quickly. “You can’t hurt me. If you do, my friends will come after you.”

  She was right. If we cut her up and dumped her body, there would be hell to pay. Sending the video I’d been recording was out of the question. I turned off my camera and slipped my phone into my pocket. I’d delete the footage later.

  “I think I’ll give you to my brother, after all,” Cristian mused. “He’ll make sure you’re telling the truth. I’d rather not mutilate you, if you’re going to be useful to me. Andrés has more creative ways of breaking women. And I’ll keep our little video to ourselves. If you are who you say you are, I’d rather your friends at the FBI don’t know I have you.”

  I didn’t have time to draw a relieved breath before he touched the tip of the knife below her left eye. Another drop of blood beaded on her pale skin.

  “Maybe I’ll give you a scar to match my brother’s first,” he said. I knew he was taunting me now, but I couldn’t hold back a growl. If he truly did intend to give her to me, I wouldn’t allow him to carve her up.

  A sharp, amused grin lit Cristian’s features. “Apparently, he wants you mostly intact. Should I give him what he wants?”

  I growled again, a wordless warning. Now that she was mine, I couldn’t bear to watch him touching her, tormenting her. I’d barely been able to remain detached when he’d first threatened her with his knife. Now that he was dangling her in front of me like a toy he could take away, it was all I could do to keep myself from attacking him.

  But that would only make things worse for her and for me.

  “Not the face, then,” Cristian declared. “But I think I’ll let Andrés see what he’s getting to work with.”

  The knife left her cheek, and he hooked the blade beneath the top button of her shirt. I clenched my teeth and swallowed a snarl. He was going to bare her. And while I wanted to look at her, I hated watching him strip her for me.

  Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, but she stopped struggling. Her eyes clouded over, her lashes fluttering. She was barely breathing, and I knew she was on the verge of passing out.

  Cristian’s fingers tightened in her hair, denying her the release of unconsciousness. “Stay with us, Samantha,” he chided.

  Her eyes focused on him again, and more tears glistened on her cheeks.

  Cristian finally cut her. He grazed a crimson line across her collarbone, the cut shallow but painful as the metal grated against bone. Her scream ripped into me.

  I wanted her screams for myself. I wanted her tears.

  But not like this. Not with blood. And not with Cristian.

  He hooked the blade through the little strip of cotton that connected the cups of her innocent white bra, parting the fabric and exposing her.

  Her scream choked off on a sob. She was terrified, humiliated.

  “What do you think, hermanito?” he asked me. “Is she pretty enough for you? She’s not a great beauty, but her nipples stand out nicely against her pale skin.”

  My gaze locked on her dusky pink nipples. They were peaked from the coolness of the knife on her flesh. Just as Cristian said, they were pretty and perfect against her alabaster skin.

  She began to shake violently, the cold of the blade sinking deep into her bones as she started going into shock.

  “And her eyes are quite lovely,” Cristian continued in detached observation. “So much fear there. You like when they’re frightened, don’t you, Andrés?”

  My only answer was a low grunt. I didn’t want to admit it aloud. I didn’t want him to hear the eager rasp in my voice. He really was going to give her to me. He’d hurt her, but I’d patch her up and take care of her. She probably wouldn’t see it that way, but she’d come around, once I trained her.

  Cristian’s knife finally left her skin to slice through the ropes that bound her wrists. She slumped forward, and I immediately closed the distance between us to catch her before she slid to the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cristian’s smirk. He knew he’d just given me a gift, and he also knew he could take it away at any time.

  I did my best to school my features to a blank mask so he couldn’t see how badly I wanted to get her away from him. No one should see her bare body but me from now on. He might not find her beautiful, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t touch her just to taunt me.

  I lifted her slight frame up and cradled her against my chest, holding her fragile body with care. For a moment, her sky blue eyes caught mine. Then they rolled back in her head, and she went limp in my arms as her terror finally overwhelmed her.

  My gut clenched. She was as frightened of me as she was of Cristian’s knife.

  “You’re welcome,” Cristian drawled. “It’s been a while since you had a plaything, hasn’t it? If you’d just make use of our whores, you wouldn’t be so needy.”

  I ground my teeth together, saying nothing. Those women were kept drugged to make them compliant. It made me sick. I might have my own deviant perversions, but I’d never raped a woman. I wouldn’t.

  Cristian sighed, disappointed that I hadn’t risen to his bait. “Make sure she’s telling the truth about being a fed,” he ordered. “Then I’ll decide what to do with her. Until then, she’s yours.”

  Mine. I pulled her tighter against my chest. Cristian smirked again. I turned sharply and strode toward the elevator that would take me up to my penthouse, carrying my precious prize with me.

  * * *

  I laid her slim body down on my bed and placed the necessary items to tend her on the mattress beside her: damp cloth, surgical glue, sedative. The last was in case she turned out to be a more formidable opponent than I suspected. She claimed she was a trained FBI field agent. She might be small, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be fierce. Once she woke up, I’d have the drugs nearby as a precaution. I wasn’t overly concerned about her ability to overpower me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate her, either.

  For now, I needed to clean the bloody cut on her collarbone and glue the wound closed. As soon as I touched the antiseptic-soaked cloth to her torn skin, she hissed and bolted upright.

  I gripped her upper arms and pushed her back down. She squirmed and kicked out in blind panic, her fingers curling and clawing ineffectively.

  Not so formidable, after all.

  If Samantha was a field agent, she was either not very well trained or she’d never been in a high-stress scenario before. Her physical defensive reaction should be far more methodical, precise and ingrained.

  I grasped her wrists to save my skin from her raking fingernails, pinning them against the mattress at either side of her hips. She whined and writhed, and blood oozed from the cut on her collarbone.

  “Calm down, cosita, or I’ll have to restrain you,” I warned.

  I grumbled my disapproval of her continued flailing. She was giving way to panic, and she was only preventing me from treating her injury.

  I lifted her arms above her head and quickly secured her wrists in place with the cuffs I kept attached to my bed. Her struggles only increased, and she twisted her body in an effort to kick out at me. She might not be very skilled, but she was still a fighter at heart. She was terrified, and her instinct was to try to escape. She could have just trembled and cried and surrendered to her fate, but she wouldn’t give in so easily.

  I’d enjoy the challenge she posed.

  I moved down the bed and caught her ankles, cuffing them to the bedposts. She was stretched out before me, and I finally allowed myself to really look at her for the first time.
Despite her bonds, she hadn’t stopped struggling. I admired the way her small breasts bounced slightly as she twisted and turned. She was still exposed where Cristian had cut away her shirt and bra, but I hadn’t allowed myself to truly appreciate her lithe body in his presence. The darker part of me very much enjoyed seeing her bound beneath me, helpless and trapped.

  Mine.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  Her crystalline blue eyes finally focused on me, and they widened, like a frightened doe.

  I pressed my hand against her bare stomach, pinning her down against the mattress like a delicate butterfly. I simply watched and waited for her to exhaust herself. She wasn’t giving up easily, but eventually, she’d surrender to her predicament. Then I’d be able to close her wound and begin to learn her body.

  Finally, she stilled beneath me, but her limbs still quivered, practically vibrating with the desire to escape.

  “Are you done?” I asked calmly.

  “Fuck you,” she flung at me.

  I couldn’t allow that kind of language. It seemed her training would have to begin a little sooner than I’d intended. She needed to understand her place with me.

  Keeping her pinned in place with one hand, I brought the other down on her breasts, slapping the outer swells just hard enough to leave a fierce sting. Her shrill cry made my cock stiffen. But it was too soon for that. No matter how alluring I found her, I wouldn’t take her before she was ready to accept me without fear.

  That didn’t mean I wouldn’t handle her body as I wished. I didn’t stop slapping her breasts until her eyes began to shine with tears.

  “I won’t tolerate insults,” I informed her. I wasn’t angry. This was discipline. She simply had to learn how to behave properly. “You will speak to me with respect. Do you understand?”

  “No,” she moaned, but the word was more horrified than venomous.

  “You will understand soon,” I promised her, deciding she didn’t require further punitive correction. “You’re frightened, but you will learn. For now, I’m warning you not to curse at me again. Tell me you’ll obey.”