Page 173 of To Catch a Sub

“What are you talking about? I can’t look,” Rolf said, eyes on the road.

“He gave her this fucking ugly jewelry,” Landon said in a low voice so he wouldn’t wake her. “Anklets and a waist chain. And the cuffs he was using looked like jewelry too. She’s still wearing all of it.”

He stroked her hair again, not mentioning the nipple rings, which would have been removed so they could treat her.

“They should have taken it off her in the hospital,” Rolf agreed.

“Maybe leaving was all she cared about,” Landon said, looking down at the woman he loved.

* * *

Colette stared at herself in the mirror. The short nap in the car, followed by a noxious amount of greasy fish and chips, had her feeling better. She’d taken a long hot shower, washing everything twice.

But she still didn’t feel clean. Not when her body didn’t look like her own.

This body was still Damien’s property.

She willed the disgusting thought away, but like a weed it took root. The hospital had tried to break through the chains, but the pliers and surgical scissors they had on hand hadn’t worked. They offered to get some cutting pliers once they were done with the invasive exam, but at that point all she wanted to do was leave. Knowing Damien was somewhere in the same building with a knife sticking out of his eye was more than she could take.

Napping with her head on Landon’s lap, his hand stroking her hair as the car gently rocked her, had been some of the best sleep she’d ever had.

By the time they made it back to Harringay, everyone was starving, and when Rolf asked if they wanted to stop for fish and chips on the way, she’d sat up with an enthusiastic yes.

She’d laughed and joked with all three men as they sat picnic style on a blanket in the middle of the public club dance floor. It was as if the four of them willed themselves to ignore everything that had just happened, the conversation going from who from the private club had performed on the stages down here and weird things the most recent DJ had said and done.

They’d eaten flaky, buttery white fish pillowed in fluffy batter and chips soaked in vinegar and dusted with salt. Colette had leaned against Landon, totally relaxed even if she knew it was temporary. Everyone ignored her hospital scrubs and slipper shoes.

Even if she hadn’t already been desperate for a shower, a meal like that required a full-body scrub to get rid of the fine layer of cooking oil she was sure coated her.

When she announced she needed to shower, Landon had risen with her, but when they reached the top of the spiral staircase and he opened the private club door with the complex key, she’d put a hand on his chest, asking him to give her a few minutes alone.

He’d retreated one step, his hands braced on the railings, his eyes searching her face. She’d seen how hard it was for him to agree to let her go, but he’d done as she asked.

Colette couldn’t stand seeing herself any longer, and gingerly wrapped a towel around herself, jumping as the soft Turkish cotton brushed her abused the nipples. Piercings kept the nipples erected. It was one of the selling points for people who wanted them. The nurse had helped her wrap her chest with non-stretchy gauze, creating a sort of bandeau bra that wouldn’t compress, but would protect her nipples.

She felt better with her nipples covered, but when one of the charms caught on the fabric of the towel as she brushed her teeth, tears sprang to her eyes.

Colette unwrapped the towel, tucking it around her waist and hiding the heavy waist chains. She wrapped gauze around her wrists, covering not only the deep red marks left from hanging by her hands, but the cuffs.

The nipple rings swayed, the horrible charms clinking together as she bent over to grab her toiletries bag. She was half-way through applying moisturizer when the constant clink of chains on her limbs and the painful pull on her nipples became too much. Colette tossed the moisturizer into the sink and braced her hands on the porcelain, breathing hard.

Her vague plan had been to wait until she could get her hands on a set of heavy-duty wire cutting pliers and take everything off herself. She poked through the kitchenette and storeroom looking for some after she’d come upstairs to take a shower, but hadn’t found anything.

It was time to face reality. Even if she did have the tool she needed, removing them herself would be tricky. Especially the nipple piercings.

Moving the towel up once more, she pressed one arm over her breasts so nothing rubbed or caught, and left the bathroom.

Landon answered his bedroom door after her second knock, stepping back to let her in.

Colette stepped through, walking to the window. She felt his gaze on her as she moved, felt his worry and tension.

It was night again. She’d missed most of the daylight, stuck inside first a police station, then the hospital.

There were a thousand things she wanted to say and ask—Did you really quit your job? Are you disgusted with me for what I did to Damien? I’m sorry for dragging you into this. Without me your life would be better.

But she couldn’t say them, not yet. Not until she was physically free.

Landon stepped up behind her. Not touching her, but close enough that she could feel him there. The temptation to lean into him and ignore everything was so strong she ached with it.