Page 59 of Breaking Rosalind
Her eyes widen, and she kicks out with her free foot. “Don’t twist my words, asshole.”
Holding her still, I fasten zip-ties around her ankle and secure it to a loop of metal at the end of a spreader bar. Rosalind squirms and screeches, her free leg continuing its futile effort to push me away. Each kick weakens under the effect of the drug.
Rosalind’s defiance fuels my predator instincts, and I almost wish I hadn’t injected her with so much muscle relaxant. Her resistance is exhilarating. Breaking her is the ultimate challenge. I make a mental note to even the odds next time to give her more of a fighting chance.
As I grab another set of zip-ties, her boot flies up to my helmet, connecting with a resounding thud. Laughing, I snatch her other ankle.
“So keen,” I croon.
“Fuck you!” she screams, her voice going straight to my aching cock.
“Now, now. I know the sexual tension between us is unbearable, but you’ll just have to wait.”
Not wanting to waste any more time, I attach her other ankle to the metal loop at the other end of the bar.
Rosalind trembles. I can’t tell if that’s out of fear or from the vibrations coming from the engine. The muscle relaxant will only affect the somatic nervous system, causing temporary paralysis while keeping her senses intact. The drugs won’t interfere with her body’s fear response.
Confident that she’s completely under the influence, I pull off my helmet and lean over her with my lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“This would be so much more satisfying in my dungeon, but no matter.” My tongue flickers on her skin, tasting the barest traces of salt. “You’re mine now, Rosalind, every delicious inch.”
She shudders, but my armor is far too thick to enjoy the full extent of her terror.
“I... Will…” She swallows.
“What’s that, pet?” I bite down on her earlobe, making her hiss. “You’ll kill me?”
She grunts.
“You can try. In fact, I dare you to carry out those threats. But I will break you into beautiful little fragments, and you will enjoy every agonizing second.”
TWENTY-THREE
ROSALIND
My heart hurls itself at its cage, desperate to break free. It’s one of the few parts of my body capable of movement, since the rest of me is paralyzed.
At first, I thought it was a sedative, but when my limbs stopped cooperating, my terror spiked. The academy trained us to withstand torture, immobilization, and the two combined.
No straight-thinking interrogator would add such a strong incapacitating agent to the mix. My tongue is sluggish, and my lips refuse to move. Cesare isn’t interested in me answering questions. He revels in my helplessness. He delights in my terror. He wants a toy who can withstand his brand of torture and still find pleasure in the pain.
I refuse to give into this sadistic bastard. My body might be paralyzed, but my mind is still sharp. I will gather every ounce of strength I have left and wait for the moment to strike.
He releases his teeth from my earlobe and sits back on his heels to admire his handiwork. A dim, overhead light casts his features in shadow, accentuating their sharp angles. Such masculine beauty is wasted on this psychopath. At the first chance, I’ll rip through that facade and uncover the true monster.
“You’re wearing far too many clothes, little pet,” he says, his eyes gleaming with amused malice.
If I could form coherent words, I’d tell him to go screw himself, but he’d only take that as an invitation.
He reaches into a side pocket and extracts an oversized knife. It’s curved with a tip that tapers to a sharp point. The cutting edge is smooth, while its spine is as jagged as alligator teeth.
Light bounces off its blade as he tilts it to the side, exposing its flat.
“Say hello to Lucrezia,” he says with a sharp grin.
My throat tightens. Of course, he’s named his knife.
He slices the blade up the fabric of my jumpsuit, the cold metal sliding up the side of my calf and against my inner thigh. It’s so slow and sensual that I swear he’s peeling off its top layer. My lungs spasm, pushing out a moan.