Last Broken Rose: A Dark Romance (Rose and Thorn Book 3) Page 13

  I spent an incredible hour backstage with Felicia, her boyfriend and Mummy. By the time we left, I was ecstatic and filled with new ideas about my future.

  Mummy insisted we had to leave to catch our train, despite Felicia offering to give us a ride. But I had a feeling her car was as flashy as her outfit was, and to be honest, I couldn't imagine a limousine pulling into our neighborhood. Someone would probably smash one of the tinted windows just for the sake of it.

  We politely declined and I gave Felicia a tight hug before grinning at Mummy, who took my home and led me home.

  We barely made it on the train, and I spent the rest of the ride home chattering about everything we'd experienced. Mummy let me, smiling fondly at me as I went on and on.

  When we finally got home, it was already quite late, since we'd had to catch the very last train out of the city. I knew Daddy was still up, because all the lights were on. But I didn't realize he was drunk until Mummy unlocked the front door and I heard glass breaking somewhere inside the house. This was a bad sign. I didn't like Daddy drunk. He and Mummy fought all the time when he'd had too much to drink.

  I could tell it would be a bad night when Daddy came crashing into the hallway with a beer bottle in his hand, the top of it smashed.

  "Out whoring?" he snarled at Mummy, and she flinched.

  "Harlow is here," she reminded him, but he didn't even glance at me.

  Just grabbed her by the hair and she shrieked when he pulled her closer.

  He went through her back while she wailed, and I stood uselessly in the corridor, trying not to cry.

  "You won't find anything!" she said desperately, but he ignored her, furiously going through the contents of her bag until his fingers wrapped around something and he let out a victorious scream.

  "Daddy!" I spoke up. "Not those, please."

  It was my opera glasses, my new prized possession.

  "Shut the fuck up," my father snarled, backhanding me across the face while Mummy screamed.

  I landed on my butt and started to cry while he waved the opera glasses in front of Mummy's face.

  "Who gave you this, huh?" he taunted her. "I knew you were whoring yourself out, you bitch."

  He broke them on the ground, stomping on them while Mummy and I cried.

  "You're never going to that wretched opera again," he snarled at us both.

  And he was right.

  Two months later, Mummy was gone and it was just me and the monster who killed her.

  To that day, I hadn't told anyone he'd been the reason for her death.

  And I never did see a ballet again.

  I felt tears burning the back of my eyes as I danced and the memory hit me full force. I realized it would soon be time to reveal my biggest secret of all - to tell Thorn my father had murdered my mother in a fit of fucking rage, and made me help him cover it all up, pretending she was bed-ridden for weeks.

  I hated him, and I would never stop. Thorn needed to know.

  I could feel my limbs going weak but I pushed through, and I kept dancing, my eyes making silent promises to the man of my dreams who sat in the front row, his eyes drinking in every move I made.

  Thankfully, I was getting to the end of the first act. In act two, I would transform into the black swan - Odile. I danced my heart out and stayed in my pose as the applause sounded and the curtains closed.

  Finally, when Madame rushed out to my side, I let myself collapse and sobbed softly in her arms. And she never let go, just like Mummy wouldn't have if she'd still been with me.

  Twenty-One

  Rose

  Madame led me into the changing rooms and helped me get my outfit off, changing into the costume I'd wear as the black swan. This time, we avoided the makeup again, but there seemed to be a change going on inside me, something rippling through me and making me feel fearless like never before.

  I'd always been submissive. Always a follower, never a leader. But as Madame strapped me into my corset that night, I felt something rising within me, a need to show everyone what I was made of, and a desperate desire to convince not only myself that I could do this, but the whole world as well.

  "Madame," I whispered as he told me to breathe in deeper. "Madame..."

  "Come on, just a little more," she said, tightening the laces. "There we go."

  She didn't seem to notice the change in my attitude until she came to stand in front of me to check my outfit was in place. Then, her eyes connected with mine, and she seemed to understand what had happened inside my head right away.

  "What's going on?" she asked gently, even though I could tell she already knew there was some sort of turmoil, some kind of situation making me anxious. "Anything I can do to help?"

  "I feel..." I started, but realized mid-sentence I had no idea how to finish my thought.

  How did I feel?

  "Helpless," I said. "Rushed. Scared. I feel ready."

  She smiled fondly at me and led me to a chair, sitting down opposite me and holding my hands as she began to speak. As she talked, I realized she was a very strong woman. I knew of no one else who could have gone through the hardships she'd dealt with, the horrible loss, the tragic love story that her shaped her into the woman I now knew so well. She was incredible, but as she spoke, I realized I had the very same potential inside me.

  "You are at the peak," she said. "Imagine it as a tall, snowy mountain. Close your eyes, Harlow. *Imagine*."

  I did as she told me. I tried so hard, picturing the highest peak I could imagine, the snow covering the ground, the wind on my face, blowing my hair all over the place. I imagined until I could feel it ruffling my costume, the black feathers dancing in the wind as I stood on the mountain and faced all the elements working against me... or perhaps in my favor.

  "You are at the epitome of your life," Madame said gently. "You are an incredible dancer. Tonight's performance could place you in any ballet. Anything, everything you've ever dreamed of is at the touch of your fingertips. You could have it all now, Harlow. The career you've wanted for so long. The fame. The costumes. The music. The dancing... oh, the glorious dancing."

  Her voice was melodic and sweet, lulling me into a false sense of security.

  "But there is someone else," she went on, her voice taking on a darker note. "A figure lurking in the shadows. Someone you know well, yet someone you don't know at all... And he wants to break you. He wants to own you. He wants you to belong to him. And you feel it too, don't you, Rose?"

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat with my eyes still closed and feeling Madame's hand squeeze mine.

  "You belong to him," she went on. "You are his property. But to become his completely, you must choose."

  Her words echoed in my mind and I bit my bottom lip nervously.

  "Open your eyes."

  Her voice was gentle and sweet yet again, and I did as she told me. I looked deep into her eyes, seeing nothing but warmth and love in her gaze.

  When I looked down at the vanity table next to us, I saw a blade there. A knife set in rose quartz with a silver blade that sparkled under the lights.

  I glanced at Madame and she gave me a big smile. I didn't say a word, and neither did she.

  "I'll let you put your slippers on yourself," she said softly, leaving a fleeting kiss against my forehead and leaving me by myself in the changing rooms.

  My heart was pounding and I felt dizzy. I kept glancing at the knife on the table, wondering if I'd understood this right. If this was really what she'd meant.

  But of course, there was no doubt about it at all. She'd made it clear enough, and besides, deep down I'd known what she meant all along.

  I put my slippers on slowly, taking special care to lace them up my legs. I weighed the knife in my hands. It was oddly light for something that carried such a heavy decision.

  I strapped it in along with my slippers, hiding it so no one from the audience would be able to see. I helped it to stay in place with bobby pins and ribbons, and once I was d
one, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself, trying to decide who I really was.

  Harlow Granger was a young, ambitious girl with the whole world at her feet. She was dirt poor but she laughed loudly and danced fearlessly.

  Thorn's Rose was a quiet, beautiful woman with a heart that could take it all, and a love that transcended time and place. She was kind, and gracious, and beautiful. She was caring, and strong-willed and loved to submit. She was also *his*. She was defined by her love for him, not by her love for dancing.

  The two women blended into one in the mirror as I stared at my own reflection. The girl looking back at me had wide blue eyes and hair spun of gold. She had a tiny waist and hips and breasts that had filled out in the past few months, giving her an hourglass figure. She was beautiful, and she was strong. She was capable of making her own decisions. And she knew what she had to do.

  I smiled at my reflection and left a kiss on the mirror, my lipstick smudging as I moved back.

  I left for the stage, and Madame squeezed my hand as I got into place behind the drawn curtains. I took the deepest breath I'd ever taken and waited for the curtains to part.

  When they did, I felt everyone's eyes on me but there was only one person in the theater that mattered. And he was sitting in the front row, staring at me more intently than anyone else.

  Once again, I began to dance. This time it was different. Whereas before I'd danced with happiness and hope, now my dance was full of sorrow and broken, jagged pieces of what I could have been. I poured my feelings into my dance and knew I'd given the performance of a lifetime.

  I felt the blade strapped to my leg throughout the whole performance, and its importance didn't escape me. Madame had given me another choice besides the one Thorn had chosen for me. It meant an independence like I'd never experienced it before, and it also meant submitting to him more fully than ever.

  I still had a choice to make, and my mind throbbed with the possibilities as I twirled on the stage. The final moment was coming up soon, and I could feel the weight of my decision lying on my shoulders heavily. Still, I danced perfectly, weightlessly. Just like the girls I'd seen dancing with my Mummy at the opera, two weeks before she died. I felt as light as a feather as I twirled on the stage.

  My mind was racing through my options as I danced and tried as I might to block out the thoughts, they came back to haunt me. It seemed appropriate for some reason, knowing this was the biggest decision of my life. I needed to be completely sure this was what I wanted before I took the big leap.

  I felt the music reverberating through my body, and I felt Thorn's concern as I moved my eyes away from his. I needed it though. This final moment of dancing only for myself, where it was just me and the love I had for this art, this beautiful beautiful art.

  I think he understood, and the pressure between us dissipated as he watched me dancing. I broke from routine and added some experimental moves, making the audience gasp when I jumped in the air and landed perfectly on tiptoes. I felt like an artist on that stage, and I felt like with every move, every twirl and every jump, I was creating a stunning masterpiece for Thorn, never to be forgotten.

  In the end, it wouldn't matter when he cut my tendons. I'd reached the high of my career, and despite knowing I could've joined any ballet in the world after my performance that night, I was happy to give it all up for him... only for him. Not because he'd forced me. Because I wanted to give myself to him fully. Not just the perfect, polished parts but the jagged broken pieces as well.

  He would get Odette and Odile, and he would love me in equal measures for both personalities fighting to exist within me.

  I looked back at him, my man, my love, my Rueben, my Thorn. I gave him a tentative smile as I twirled, reaching to my ankle and pulling the blade free. It was small and dainty, and I kept it hidden in my palm, the blade gently cutting into my skin. For all its size, it was sharp as hell and drew a line of blood over my palm. I didn't care. I was sure it couldn't even measure up to the pain of what I was about to do next.

  The dance was about to end. One last move and there would be applause, flowers and the inevitable waiting for me back at the Mansion.

  I took a moment to think about our love story. It hadn't been simple. It had taken casualties. It had torn through our lives, changing them forever. And now it was time to commit to it as fully as I possibly could.

  I pulled out the knife, and as I twirled, I came to a sudden stop, making my audience gasp audibly. I stood, frozen, my eyes on Thorn's as I took the blade from one hand, watching the silver glint under the theater lights.

  I watched Thorn get up, his eyes filling with alarm as he stared at me. I gave him a bright, happy smile.

  Then, I reached down and cut through my first tendon.

  There was absolute silence, not even a peep as I tore through the muscle and the skin, blood dripping on the stage. Thorn had moved out of my vision, away from his seat. I cut the second tendon feeling like I was in a daze.

  I'd researched this before with Thorn. He'd felt my ankles and shown me exactly where the cut would be made. Not bad enough to make me unable to walk, but bad enough that I'd never be a ballerina again. I followed the gentle touch of his fingers with Madame's blade, and once I was done, I bowed for the last time, and the curtains closed to a stunned audience.

  I stood there until they fully closed, and then I collapsed to the sound of applause. My body hit the floorboards hard, and I let out a sigh of pain as a set of arms pulled me into their embrace, furious, angry and so fucking worried.

  "Harlow," he demanded. "What the fuck have you done? What the fuck did you do?"

  "N-not Harlow," I whispered. "She's gone. Now I really am your Rose, just like you wanted... Just like you wanted me to be. Only yours."

  He stared at me in disbelief, groaning and kissing every inch of my skin that was exposed while my legs bled over his suit.

  "Stupid girl," he whispered. "What have you done, Rose... What have you done..."

  I looked into his eyes and gave him a faint smile, starting to drift into unconsciousness.

  "I gave you everything..." I whispered, and with those words, my eyes closed shut and I succumbed to the darkness once and for all.

  Twenty-Two

  Rose

  I would never get sick of waking up in his arms.

  His strong, muscular arms that held me tighter than anyone else ever had. The feeling that filled my body reminded me what it felt like to be loved, to belong. To submit yourself completely to a soul more beautiful than yours, and yet your only possible counterpart in the world.

  Vivid memories of the previous night filled my mind. Being rushed to the emergency room, denying treatment. Suffering through a pain so savage it tore through my body and I cried myself to sleep while Thorn held the pieces of me together.

  Regretting what I'd done but never saying it out loud, never showing how afraid I was, and slowly, so slowly, accepting the fate I'd already said yes to twice.

  He kissed my lips good morning, waking me from a deep sleep and memories that felt like nightmares. Thorn's stubble scratched at my skin, and I pulled him closer needily, my blood-soaked and gauze-wrapped legs wrapping around his waist. I ignored the pain, pushing up on his cock and showing him what I so desperately needed.

  Finally, I got a good look at him, my Thorn, my future, my Master. He was dark and delicious like only he could be that early in the morning.

  "Am I high?" I asked, giggling, and he returned a big grin.

  "On painkillers, Rose," he said. "Just painkillers."

  "I need to fuck," I moaned, rubbing my pussy through the lace fabric of my panties. "This feels like a dream. Is this a dream, Rueben?"

  He went quiet and I looked into his eyes drowsily.

  "It's not," he replied, his gaze burning with passionate fire. "It's not a dream, my love. This is real."

  He pushed down on me and the sound of him groaning mixed with my moans, desperately demanding he gave me the rel
ease I needed so badly.

  "I can't fuck you now," he said in his deep raspy voice. "I need to wait until you're all better, you pretty little thing."

  "Now," I begged, halfway between sleep and consciousness. "Now, Master. I want to be yours now."

  I pulled him in by his shirt, my mouth connecting with his, sweet little licks all over his lips demanding his full attention. He groaned when he tried to pull away but I wouldn't let him. Usually I was too shy for this kind of display of affection, but I felt an empty, needy place deep inside of me that I needed him to find and conquer. I wanted to give him my all, wanted him to have the parts of me he hadn't even discovered yet.

  "Fuck me," I begged in his ear. "Please, Thorn. Fuck my pussy."

  He stood still and I opened my eyes wide, staring above at him. He looked like a God like that, and I was a believer. I would have followed him to the end of the world and crossed the gap with him.

  "Okay," he grunted. "Okay. You can have what you want, little slut."

  I opened my legs. They were numb from the knees down but it didn't matter because the rest of me felt good, hot and wet. And my needs needed to be sated like only Thorn knew how to do.

  "Take my cock out," he rasped at me, and my fingers shook as I reached for his pants, pushing them down until his cock sprang free, so fucking swollen it was dripping precum already.

  His juices dripped over my naked stomach, and I moaned when I felt him press against the lace of my panties.

  "Rip them off," I begged him. "Get rid of them."

  He did what I asked, the sound of ripping fabric making me moan harder. And then the head of his dick was pressed against me, my pussy opening and adjusting to his size already.

  "You sure?" he asked me roughly, but as our eyes connected, I knew my answer didn't matter.

  He would have done it anyway.

  The second I nodded he was already inside me, filling me to the bream while I screamed his name against his skin.