The Darkness Within Him: The Untwisted series Read online

  ‘Rebecca,’ Nicholas murmured almost reverently, causing a shiver to run down my spine. Three weeks without that voice and yet still I found that I had goosepimples across both my arms.

  Breathe. Breathe, I reminded myself as the urge to vomit registered in my brain. Oh God, I wasn’t sure I could do this. I wanted so much to fall into his arms, or run away shrieking, but I couldn’t for the life of me decide which.

  This must be what going into shock feels like, I thought. Serious post-traumatic shock. A brief dizzy spell overwhelmed me for a second or two and then, snapping back to focus, I realised that I still stood in the bookshop with Louise and Nicholas staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to say or do something. Assuming I couldn’t get away with screaming and running for the hills, I instead managed to coax my forehead into a scowl. Not intentionally, really, it was just the easiest facial expression to muster up at the current time, but upon seeing my firm look, Louise scuttled off to busy herself and give me some privacy. Unfortunately, my expression didn’t have the same impact on Nicholas and he held his ground in front of me, causing me to sigh heavily.

  ‘Nicholas … what are you doing here?’ I managed to whisper, rather proud that I hadn’t thrown up on him, or burst into tears and fled to the sanctuary of the staff room the second I’d seen him. Especially seeing as I had spent the last several hours recalling every gory detail of our time together.

  How had it all come down to this? Awkward, stiff exchanges out on the shop floor. Less than a month ago, we’d been sharing dinners and exploring each other’s body, and now we were like feuding parties in a conflict.

  Oh yes, that’s right, I remember now, I thought sourly; he’d beaten the hell out of my arse with a cane. I still had the bruises to remind me every time I sat down.

  ‘Let me talk with you, Rebecca,’ Nicholas insisted in his familiar soft but demanding way. Seeing the raise of my eyebrow, he frowned. ‘ Please,’ he added, his tone gentler, desperate even. ‘I won’t touch you, I promise. We can go somewhere public if you’d feel more comfortable; get a coffee, maybe? Or a drink? There’s a bar across the road.’

  Chewing on my lip, I considered his offer. We did need to talk, even if just to finalise things between us. Besides, I still had belongings left at his house that I needed to collect. Seeing as it was a quiet afternoon, I spoke briefly with Louise and then, handing her the shop keys, I walked stiffly across the road to an Irish pub with Nicholas by my side, but just out of reach as he had promised.

  ‘Would you like a drink? Medium white wine?’ he murmured, remembering my drink of choice, a simple gesture that made me grit my teeth with longing for him.

  Words didn’t seem to be forming in my mouth properly so I answered silently with a tight nod. I was going to need a drink to get me through this. Possibly several, I thought with a grimace, only just resisting the temptation to ask him to get me an entire bottle.

  Once we were seated, me with my wine and him with a Coke, he looked at me for a long while as if reacquainting himself with my face. He looked … well, sad. As poor as that description was, it was true: soul-deep sadness seemed to radiate from him. That and the look of virtual devotion that I saw in his eyes very nearly broke me straight away.

  ‘How are you, Rebecca?’ he asked huskily.

  Sighing heavily, I sat back in my seat and crossed my arms. ‘Are you really going to start with that, Nicholas?’ I asked, wearily rubbing a hand across my tight face. ‘Seeing as we both look like shit I don’t think it’s really worth discussing, is it?’ I lowered my tired eyes and almost dared him to chastise me for it.

  After a long pause, I finally raised my face again, and saw his gaze was wide and intense and focused solely on me. ‘You were right … that day when you overheard me on the phone, Nathan told me I wasn’t capable of a relationship so I finished with you,’ Nicholas admitted quietly.

  ‘Why did you listen to him? You’re a grown man, Nicholas,’ I said, amazed he appeared to be about to open up to me. Why couldn’t he just have done this three weeks ago instead of grabbing a frigging cane?

  Shrugging at me, he then looked at his Coke: a gesture I knew meant he felt uncomfortable because he had always been the one to push for eye contact. ‘He saved me,’ he said simply, whatever the hell that meant. ‘He always saves me.’

  In our weeks apart, I might have stewed in a good deal of self-pity, but I had at least decided that I was too strong a person to stay with a man who beat me; that much I knew.

  But why couldn’t I just hate him? To be able to sit here and physically hate this man with every fibre of my being would have made this so much easier and surely should be the logical emotion in a situation like this? The fact that I now knew I loved Nicholas, was in love with him, was overwhelming to me and, quite frankly, I was really struggling to not break down and completely freak out in the middle of the pub.

  If he’d explain to me why he’d done it, the cane; what things in his past had created those dark feelings and urges and his sudden uncharacteristic outburst … then maybe I’d be able to understand and, maybe, consider a future with him. But as it was, I couldn’t. No, I wouldn’t.

  ‘I’m not going to ask you to choose between your brother and me, Nicholas. It wouldn’t be fair; clearly he’s very important to you,’ I stated bitterly. ‘I need to leave.’ I stood to go. The chemistry between us was still so strong I was struggling to concentrate. The tingling static that hung between us and seemed to pull me toward him was just too much for my sanity to take. My mental breakdown was just around the corner, I could feel it, and I needed to get out now before it engulfed me.

  ‘Wait! Rebecca, stay … I’ll tell you …’

  Tell me? Tell me what, I wondered. Why Nathan is so important to him? Why he’s fucked up like he is? Why he’s a dominant?

  Nicholas’ voice had faded off but he stood with me and I could see a trembling in his hands. Seeing him so shaken was a new experience for me. Perhaps if I’d been hell bent on revenge I’d have taken pleasure in his obvious anguish … but I didn’t. In fact, it was heart-breaking to see him looking so broken.

  ‘Please. Don’t leave,’ Nicholas implored me, I was still fully intent on leaving but it was the haunted look in his eyes that finally broke me, and without saying another word I sat down again.

  He ran a hand through his hair, looking distinctly uncomfortable, before finally returning his cloudy eyes to mine. ‘When I was a kid, my father was very strict. He used to beat Nathan and me with a belt or cane if we broke his house rules. At the time, the cane was an occasional punishment in our school too, so we grew up assuming it was normal to be punished like that at home.’

  As opening lines go, that’s a pretty shocking one, I thought, my attention now fully on Nicholas and his tale.

  He seemed to be on autopilot now: his eyes were fixed on the table and his shoulders stiff as he continued to speak. ‘He was the same with our mother. In fact, I can remember several times when he literally put her over his knee and spanked her in front of us when she upset him.’ Briefly closing his eyes, he paused for a moment, apparently trying to calm himself, and I found myself clenching my teeth at the images flooding my brain.

  ‘My father was ex-military: as such, our household was one of discipline and rules. From as early as I can remember, we weren’t even allowed to look him in the eye unless he told us to, which I hated because I could never judge his mood or see when his temper was going to erupt.’

  Shifting in his seat, Nicholas leant forward on the table. His hands began to snake across the polished wood toward mine as if he required comfort, but I wasn’t ready for contact with him yet so I tucked mine in my lap. With a heavy sigh, he halted and pulled his arms back. ‘That’s why eye contact is so important to me now, Rebecca. I was never allowed it before. You have no idea how much I love seeing your feelings and emotions in your eyes; they’re so expressive I could have an entire conversation with you without words.’

  Hearing the em
otion and deep, heartfelt statements from Nicholas was tearing me apart and making it harder and harder to stay away from him. My chest felt like it was being ripped open and I was wringing my fingers together painfully with the effort not to touch him. At least I understood his obsession with eye contact now, and could see why it was so important to him. I nodded slowly to encourage him to continue, choosing to remain quiet for the time being.

  Raising his glass, Nicholas took a shaky sip of his Coke. It really was very alarming to see his cool façade gone, replaced with a rattled half-version of the man I knew. The man I loved. Yep, that juicy little thought still kept popping up in my mind like a nagging ache.

  ‘My father was a classic dominant, probably a sadist too; I just didn’t realise it at the time,’ he summarised.

  OK, so Nicholas had grown up to be like his father because he knew no different. This was starting to make sense but wasn’t easing my discomfort. If he was a classic dominant like his father, or God forbid, a true sadist, then he could snap at any time like he had three weeks ago, and if that was the case there was no way I could go back to him. No way I would go back to him, which officially made me sitting here pointless. Before I could state this fact, however, he continued.

  ‘It went on like this for years. As I got older, the punishments grew more severe. I was beaten daily, even if I’d been on my best behaviour and hadn’t done anything wrong. He just got his kicks from it, I think,’ Nicholas murmured, a look of disgust crossing his face. ‘On my 16th birthday it got even worse …’ He shook his head, his eyes now glassy and staring at the table. ‘Too much for me to take, really. He’d tied my wrists to a radiator and he beat me so badly with the cane that I passed out from the pain. When I woke up I was still on the floor tied up.’

  Holy shit! Gazing at him, I saw Nicholas looked nothing like the man I knew. He seemed incredibly distressed now, fidgeting in his seat and showing none of the proud self-confidence that I was used to. I found it very unnerving, especially as I was having to fight the urge of every cell in my body, which wanted to slide around the booth and comfort him.

  Pausing, Nicholas looked at me with eyes wide and glassy from the terror of his relived memories. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he murmured, then, standing up, he headed to the bar and returned moments later with two large glasses of an amber liquid that I assumed was whisky.

  Pushing one toward me, he cradled the other one in his hands and I noticed the uncharacteristic tremble in his fingers had got even worse. Biting down on my lip and gripping the edge of the leather seat was the only way I managed to stop myself moving closer to him.

  ‘I tried to pull the rope from my wrists but I couldn’t. I managed to reach my school bag with my feet and pull it over to get my pencil case. I got out my scissors to cut myself free.’ Slinging his head back, Nicholas downed his whiskey in one go and pushed the empty glass away from himself before rubbing agitatedly at his left wrist.

  ‘I was going to cut myself free … but I didn’t.’ His voice was low and rough and I had to strain to hear him, leaning forward in my seat as I did so. ‘I’d had enough of his abuse, I didn’t want to take the beating any more so –’ he ran a hand through his hair again, leaving it spiky and messy ‘– so I slashed my wrist instead, cut myself with the scissors until there was blood everywhere. I only stopped because it got in my eyes and I was too weak to wipe it out.’ His words were spoken in a low, monotone rush but I heard them and they chilled me to the bone.

  As he finished, a great, whooshing breath escaped my lungs and I felt an icy chill run under the entire surface of my skin. Holy fuck! He’d tried to kill himself. I stopped breathing for several seconds as I tried to absorb the enormity of what Nicholas had just told me; and the stunning similarity that his story held to that of my sister, Joanne. I couldn’t believe it; in fact, I was struggling to breathe. He was so strong, so confident, just like Joanne had been before that night … He just didn’t seem the type, if there was indeed a type, but then neither had my sister.

  I realised my head was spinning almost painfully. I swallowed hard, closing my eyes for several seconds to try and get a grip on my thoughts. Now was not the time to bring up Joanne; this was about Nicholas, so I focused back on him and continued to try and take in steadying breaths to calm myself.

  Nicholas looked so distraught by this point that I just had to comfort him somehow, but I couldn’t bring myself to move to his side just yet, so instead I pushed my untouched whiskey toward him. As he reached out for it, his fingers brushed mine, sending electricity shooting up my arm and causing me to gasp. Even now, in these traumatic circumstances and after three weeks apart, the chemistry between us was just phenomenal. Withdrawing my hand as if burned, I watched Nicholas slide the glass toward himself, a sad smile curling his lips downwards at my hasty movement.

  It has to be said that maintaining a distance from him when he clearly needed comfort made me feel like a complete and utter bitch, and I chewed on my lip guiltily.

  I realised his story explained the scar on his wrist, his one imperfection, and I now understood why he’d been rubbing at it so impatiently before. From the size of it, I had assumed it was a burn or the result of some accident. But no, teenage Nicholas had hacked at his arm to try to escape from his father’s abuse. I felt sick at the pain he must have endured. Again, images of Joanne flashed in my brain and I felt physically drained, needing to rest my head in my hands for a moment until my nausea subsided.

  ‘I thought about doing it again when you left,’ he murmured softly, causing my head to shoot up, my eyes wide, only to see Nicholas shaking his head. ‘I’m not saying that to get your sympathy, Rebecca. I don’t want pity, I’m telling you because after you left I realised I was better than that. Stronger than that. Regardless of whether you’ll take me back or not, I know now I am not a coward like my father … I am not my father at all, I’m better than that. You made me better,’ he finished in a determined whisper.

  Once again, I found myself stunned into silence. He’s not like his father and he wants me back? My overwhelming urge was to pull Nicholas into my arms and kiss the scar on his wrist until his hurt went away, but I somehow refrained. This was all so monumentally screwed up; I needed to think before I gave him false hope and ended up hurting him, and me, even more.

  ‘Anyway, the reason Nathan is so important to me is because he’s the one who found me that day. I was unconscious in a pool of my own blood. He cut me free from the radiator and took me to the hospital. He literally saved my life that day.’

  Shaking his head, Nicholas continued, ‘I’ve never understood it but even in spite of the abuse, Nathan worshipped dad. It was so hard for him to do it but we told the police everything and eventually my parents were put in prison for child abuse.’

  His brother worshipped their abusive father? Jeez, my instincts about Nathan had been right. I definitely wanted to avoid him now. I tried to get my head around how someone could have any kind of respect for their abuser, but Nicholas continued talking so I switched my focus back to him.

  ‘I was 16. Nathan was 18, but he had no income so they were going to separate us and put me up for fostering. That’s when Nathan saved me again. He got himself on to a paid apprenticeship scheme with an architecture firm and begged them to give him custody of me. Eventually, the council agreed so we stayed together.’ There was warmth in his voice now; real affection for his brother. ‘He’s always looked out for me, Rebecca,’ Nicholas concluded, as if willing me to respond somehow.

  Finally, I felt the need to speak. ‘This is starting to make sense, Nicholas. I’m so sorry for what happened to you.’ Which was such an immense understatement that I grimaced at my lack of eloquence. ‘So I guess the –’ I blushed and leant in closer so I could whisper ‘– control over sex, the cuffs and punishments, just developed in response to your father’s treatment? Your need to take back control?’

  A small frown tweaked Nicholas’ forehead and he actually averted his eyes, so
mething so rare for him until today. ‘Partly, but that came from Nathan too.’

  What ? Nathan had introduced him to kinky sex? I grimaced at the visions in my head. God, did I even want to hear this? Seeing my horrified expression, Nicholas looked deflated again but began to explain.

  ‘It’s not like that, Rebecca,’ he replied quickly, looking almost as disgusted as I felt. ‘He’s older than me, and he’d put up with dad’s treatment for longer than me. He’d watched him in action, I suppose; learnt from him. Anyway, once we were free of my parents he started to date a girl. He’d never had a girlfriend before, neither of us had; we’d never been allowed to socialise.’

  Nicholas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. In other circumstances, I might have laughed. He’d said in the past that touching my hair was my sign when I was nervous, but it was certainly becoming clear that it was Nicholas’ tell that he was anxious. ‘Apparently, she accused him of being too overbearing, yelled at him that he should get himself a submissive before she stormed out.’

  He finished the second whisky and put his glass down. ‘Nathan had no idea what she was talking about, but looked it up when he got home. He found a surprisingly large number of websites on dominant and submissive relationships – an entire community of likeminded people used to discipline, who either enjoyed giving or receiving it.’

  Cringing slightly, I recalled some of the websites I’d discovered when researching what a dominant was. They were eye-opening to say the least. As for the photographs and images the sites had shown … Jaw-dropping was more like it.

  ‘After years of living in Dad’s shadow, Nathan craved the control that being a dominant gave him. It suited him perfectly; he was able to get the power in life that he’d never had, but I actually think he likes the fact it allows him to be like dad in a small way,’ Nicholas explained with a shrug. ‘He got himself a submissive then and he’s never looked back.’