Desolation Road (Torpedo Ink 4) - Page 135

Scarlet set the bottle of water on the table between them and continued to regard him steadily. He couldn’t see judgment in her eyes, only that comprehension of what he was telling her. He had to keep going. Why did his life have to be so damn fucked up?

“You’d think it would have gotten better when we were older, but it didn’t. It got steadily worse. Maybe we just knew more. Or the newer instructors were more brutal. Sorbacov reveled in finding really fucked-up men and women to come in to teach us how to perform under any circumstances. We had to be in control of our bodies no matter what was happening to us. I went overboard with the others, trying to help them stay in control so they weren’t brutalized. God, it was so ugly. Those days. The nights. They were so vicious, Scarlet. Not human. There was no real way to fight back.”

He was sweating again, and he rolled the cold bottle over his forehead, grateful for the ice chips he always made certain he had floating in the glass. Sometimes, at night especially, he couldn’t get those days and nights out of his mind.

“No matter how much I talked to them, planting suggestions, or Demyan did, or sometimes the both of us working together, it never seemed enough, it was never strong enough. They came back broken and bloody. Sometimes so shattered it took everyone to put them back together. Sometimes I was in bad shape, or Demyan, and we couldn’t help them. It was a bad time, so I practiced harder, studied longer, was more determined than ever to be able to use my voice to help them.”

Absinthe dropped his forehead into his palm. “I had no idea what harm I was doing to them, Scarlet. None of us really thought we were going to make it out of there. So many were dying all around us. Demyan and I wanted to make what they had to do easier on them. They had no choice. None of them did. I’m not making excuses for what I did. I really didn’t realize in the beginning. But there did come a time when I was aware of it.”

He made that admission hastily so he couldn’t take it back or leave it out. He would have to tell her no matter what. Her long lashes fluttered. There was so much pressure in his chest. His heart hurt and he rubbed over it, hoping to ease the ache.

“I tried using my voice to influence one of the girls being trained as a pony girl for a very harsh master. He had put painful shoes on her, a plug too big, and scared her so bad she could barely function. She responded to my voice and tried very hard to please him. He saw that after I spoke to her she really did whatever he asked of her and he liked that, mostly so he could humiliate her more, but still, both won a little. She didn’t seem to realize it was as awful as it was or as harsh, and he got to do so much more.”

Scarlet rested her chin in her palm, her green eyes never leaving his face. Again, he couldn’t see condemnation, only interest.

“After that, I was asked to help train the girls in various roles for those wanting ‘pets.’ I tried to influence the ‘masters’ to be a little kinder. Some were more susceptible to my voice than others. I had to be cautious in how I worded the suggestions. The girls and boys were easier. They were younger and desperate for kindness and guidance. I found that the more I was around the kittens, the more it felt like I had a pet, someone to take care of, to cuddle and play with. I needed that. I needed that control and in return for my help, they gave me my own kitten. I knew I was saving her from a horrid master. Some of them were brutal.”

He took a deep breath. “At least, that was how I justified it. In the meantime, I was still persuading the others that they liked what they did, and they were the best, stronger than any other pitted against them. I made Steele believe he could be the best surgeon no matter what they were doing to him. That Alena could cook a seven-course meal and assassinate Sorbacov’s enemies right under the noses of their guards while her dessert was served to them. She wouldn’t get caught; her meals were so good no one would notice if anyone was dead because they were too busy enjoying the food. It goes on and on. The worst that I am responsible for is Savage. What I did to him, what I shaped him into, is unconscionable.”

Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance
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