Break Me: Smith and Belle (Royals Saga Book 12) Read online

  Well, it almost had.

  A shiver rolled up my back, turning into a full tremble that overtook my body until I was shaking like the leaves the spiders crawled across on the wallpaper. Smith reached for my hand, pulling me up from the bed so that he could wrap his strong arms around me. But the instinct I usually had—the one that sent me melting against my husband’s chest—was gone. I stood, locked in the spot, letting him hold me, but wanting something much darker than comfort.

  “You should drink your tea,” Mrs. Winters announced, ignoring our embrace and bustling around us to pour me a cup. Before she could hand it to me, Smith intercepted it and raised it to his nose.

  “This is the new one?” he asked.

  “Lord knows. It was in the bag from the shops.” She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind.

  I couldn’t help wondering what she thought of us. The frantic, incompetent young mother and her suspicious, mysterious husband. But whatever she thought of us, Smith seemed reassured by her answer.

  “You should drink this,” he coaxed.

  I arched an eyebrow, trying to get a read on what was going on with him. At least if I was going mental, I wouldn’t be alone. “Has it been approved by my poison tester?”

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. Given that he’d been moments from watching his wife and child die, I couldn’t exactly blame him. “Why don’t you sit back down?”

  I did as he suggested, more than willing to follow his orders. If I listened to him, he would keep me safe. That’s what I needed him to do. Smith would make the decisions. Or Edward. Or whoever was around and still had a functioning brain in their skull. I wrapped my hands around the teacup, letting its warmth seep into my skin, but my trembling continued. The day had been cold, but my physical reaction had less to do with the weather and more to do with my close call.

  “It’s about the tea,” he said, and I looked at him in surprise. “You got the wrong one. There must have been a mixup at the pharmacy. The tea you were drinking decreases milk supply.”

  “What?” I blinked at him. That didn’t make sense. “I read the box.”

  “It didn’t come in that tin?” he asked.

  “I put it in the tin to keep it fresh,” Mrs. Winters interjected. She twisted her fingers together, looking back and forth between the two of us as she confessed. “I should have asked.”

  “Why?” I asked slowly.

  “When you brought it home from the doctor, I assumed you wanted your supply to dry up,” Mrs. Winters admitted.

  “Why would I want that?” A strange urge to cry took hold of me.

  “I’m not in the business of prying,” she said softly. “You went to the doctor and you came back with a prescription. I assumed you couldn’t nurse the baby and needed to take it. I didn’t feel it was my station to ask.”

  “But you knew what it would do?” I asked, shocked.

  “I thought you knew. When I found the box sitting in the kitchen and you told me you needed to take it…“ She trailed away. Gathering her courage, she lifted her shoulders and looked squarely at me. “I’m very sorry that this happened.”

  “An honest mistake then,” Smith said, his face unreadable. I knew my husband well enough to see that part of him wanted to strangle her for the mistake—the part of him that wanted to protect me at all costs.

  I took a sip of the tea, wrinkling my nose with displeasure at its taste.

  “The pharmacist said it tastes like licorice,” Smith told me.

  “It does.” I abandoned the cup back on the tray and sighed. “There’s no point to it, I’ve already dried up.”

  “The pharmacist said…“

  But I wasn’t listening to him. I was tired of pretending I could solve these problems with medication or herbs or hired help. Whatever was happening to me, it was beyond the scope of traditional care. I would do everything Smith suggested, but I wouldn’t delude myself as to what the results would be.

  And I never allow my baby to suffer like that again. I could still hear her screams, the sound of them was branded on my soul. I had done that to her through my own negligence and through pride. I had no business keeping formula out of the house. How did I not foresee what would happen if I couldn’t nurse her?

  Smith’s lecture on restarting my milk supply was interrupted by a knock on the door. He turned and called out a welcome.

  Nora’s head appeared through a crack in the door. “She’s asleep. Poor angel was exhausted. She took the whole bottle, though.”

  “Thank you,” Smith said shortly. He’d never liked her. I could sense it. I just didn’t understand why. I found myself wishing he liked her more. She would make a better mother than me.

  “Please keep an eye on her?” Smith asked Nora. “Belle is going to take a bath.”

  “Of course,” she said brightly, disappearing from view. Maybe her way of coping with trauma was to put on a happy face and add a spoonful of sugar. I couldn’t help but wonder where she found this unlimited supply of sunshine from, though. I was glad she was here to take care of Penny, since I continued to prove myself completely useless. But I didn’t think I could stomach her bright smile a minute longer.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t like Nora. She was helpful to have around. But she was also a constant reminder that I’d utterly failed my own child.

  “Your bath is ready, ma’am,” Mrs. Winters announced. She bowed slightly and headed toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  I didn’t resist as he led me to the bathroom. This was how it needed to be. Smith would direct my days and I would finally get better or I wouldn’t, but, at least, I wouldn’t put myself or anyone else in danger. He’d never allow it.

  But as he undressed me, he kept his eyes trained away from me. His hands didn’t linger on my skin. When he helped me into the warm water, he turned to leave. I grabbed his hand.

  “Don’t leave me,” I blurted out.

  His throat slid as he pressed his lips into a flat line. He pulled the stool from my vanity, its metal feet scraping shrilly against the tile floor, and sat next to me. I tucked my legs against my chest and held them there. The chill I’d felt in my skin slowly disappeared, but the one that clung to my bones lingered.

  Smith couldn’t even look at me. I couldn’t blame him for that. I tried to imagine what he must think of me now. A tear leaked from my eye and ran down my cheek. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t move from the spot until I pulled the plug. He stood with a towel as the water began to circle the drain. Smith wrapped it around me before he helped me out of the tub.

  He followed me into the bedroom, disappeared inside the closet, and came out holding a robe.

  I shook my head, tears beginning to fall more freely now. “Smith,” I croaked. “I need you.”

  I was in his arms instantly. He gazed down on me with a look of total adoration. I fought the urge to turn away. I didn’t deserve that look. Not after what I had done. Not after what I put him through.

  “I need you,” I repeated, pressing my palms to his chest as if to prove to myself that he was really here with me. I no longer felt certain of anything.

  “Beautiful,” he coaxed, “I’m right here. I’ll protect you.”

  “I don’t want you to protect me,” I said, casting my eyes to the floor. I became increasingly interested in my toes. I wasn’t entirely sure where the embarrassment came from. Smith and I had never suffered from nerves where intimacy was concerned, but I wasn’t asking him for sex. Not this time.

  “What are you saying?” he asked slowly.

  “I need you to help me escape,” I said, quickly adding, “I mean, subspace. I can’t stand feeling like this. Take it away.”

  Smith hesitated, his eyes raking across me as a worried frown tugged on his lips. “I’m not sure —”

  “I am,” I cut him off. It was the first thing I had felt certain of for a very long time. My surety
ran bone deep. Smith was the only one who could release me from this, and I needed him in a way I had never needed him before.

  I’d always wanted him. I craved submitting to his dominance. It wasn’t something I understood exactly, but something that just made sense from the first time he touched me. This was different. I needed something else entirely. Yes, I needed to give him total control. I needed to feel safe. I needed to know that my own fate wasn’t in my hands but his, because I trusted him more than I trusted myself. Those were all things he could do without touching me.

  Now? I needed him to punish me.

  “I’ll give you whatever you need,” he promised. “But you have nothing to run from. Whatever’s going on, will figure it out together.”

  I nodded, mostly to placate him, though. The truth was that we weren’t going to figure this out. We’d been trying to do just that. Something was wrong with me. I couldn’t shake the sense that I was unraveling from within. And I needed a way to live with this fact. He could help me escape the darkness clouding my mind, but only by stripping away the anger I felt with myself. There was only one way I could think of.

  I dropped the towel.

  “Now?” Smith stared at me.

  I nodded furiously. I couldn’t live like this for one more second, I had to have release.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” he started. “You’re not going to be happy—”

  “After.” I closed the space between us and smashed my mouth to his. That was all it took. Smith responded as he always did, with a brutal masculinity that my body recognized. I whimpered into the kiss. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve him, but I was too selfish to deny myself. We broke apart, he stepped back and studied me. But it wasn’t the predatory look he usually gave me, the one he leveled at me when he was deciding what delicious way he planned to torture me.

  He inspected me like he was looking for cracks. Would he find them? Was he scared he would break me?

  “Fuck me,” I begged, unable to stand another moment of crushing reality. “Take me. Use me. Free me.”

  Punish me.

  Something held me back from speaking those words aloud. My husband had tested me before at the beginning of our relationship. But punishment? That wasn’t generally on the table. Smith was dominant in nature, and I knelt before him in submission, but that didn’t mean that he was my master. Far from it. He took my body as he saw fit, and I gave it to him willingly. I’d seen other relationships—darker relationships—and I knew that his penchant wasn’t for inflicting actual pain. At least, I had not known pain at his hands. I’d seen him, though, in some of the secret places we had visited. I’d also seen how the people there responded to his presence. I’d often suspected my husband kept parts of himself from me. He claimed that he’d been twisted and warped by Hammond, who’d acted as a surrogate father when he was young. But I’d also watched him kill a man without hesitation. He was capable of things more dark than most people ever dreamed of, and it was that wickedness I craved in him now.

  A shadow crossed over his face and his eyes hardened into cold emeralds. He snapped his fingers. “On your knees.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said in relief, dropping to them. I rocked back on my heels, hands folded in my lap as he circled to inspect me.

  “Show me your breasts.”

  I moved my hands behind my back, gripping each wrist so that my chest was thrust forward for his pleasure. Smith bent to place his index finger under my chin and tipped my face up. I held my breath in anticipation.

  “So beautiful. I think I’d like to watch you suck my cock.”

  My eyes flickered to his groin and the unmistakable outline of his erection straining against his jeans. I knew better than to reach for him. I looked back up to Smith and waited.

  “I love it when you’re patient.” I heard his fingers unbuckle his belt and the whoosh of it as he tugged it free from his jeans. His eyes hooded, and he groaned as he took his cock out. My tongue darted over my lips and he smirked. “It’s getting harder to control yourself, isn’t it?”

  He bit his lower lip and I heard the rough stroke of his hand on his shaft. I squirmed in the spot as wet heat seeped from me. Finally, he took a step closer and held himself to my lips. “Suck me, beautiful.”

  I plunged my mouth over him, careful to keep my eyes trained upward as I took his shaft deep into my throat. His eyes squinted at the edges as he grunted his approval. Smith’s hand grabbed a fistful of hair and urged my mouth to glide faster until I was practically choking as he fucked the back of my throat.

  “You’re going to make me come in your fucking mouth,” he gritted out. “But I’m not ready to come. I have so much to do to you, but…“ A low rumble cut him off as he grabbed my head with both hands and thrust himself so far that my lips smashed against his balls. I gagged a little but as the first heat spurted down my throat I instinctively relaxed, giving my body over to him entirely.

  There was only pleasing him. I didn’t need to breathe. I needed to give him pleasure. I didn’t need to think. I needed to accept the gifts his hands and mouth and cock would give me. There was only him, erasing the world until all that remained was the tether he offered.

  Smith withdrew and shook his head. “Look at what you made me do. Now I have to find a way to make myself hard again so I can fuck you properly.” He considered for a moment, studying me like a connoisseur might pause to appreciate a meal before taking the first bite. “On your feet.”

  I scrambled up, his words an irresistible command. I was his puppet—whatever he commanded, I would do without question, without thought.

  “Against the wall.” I moved closer until my breasts grazed it. My nipples tightened as they made contact with the cool plaster. Smith walked behind me, placed a hand on the middle of my back and smashed me to the wall. I gasped with pleasure as the mood darkened further. He didn’t kiss me, though. Instead, his other hand spread my thighs wider.

  “I think this might inspire me,” he growled before plunging his hand between my legs. His fingers spread my sex roughly, massaging me open so that he could shove two fingers inside me. “You’re so fucking wet. You like belonging to me. You like being played with. You’re my perfect fuck doll, and you want it rough, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I panted, my cheek mashed against the wall. I moaned as another finger made its way inside me, and another, until he had half his hand buried there. He paused to readjust, hooking a finger to hit a tender spot that belonged to him. It sent me over the edge and I exploded against his hand, soaking it entirely as my body spasmed violently. The hand pinning me to the wall was the only reason I managed to stay upright.

  When he released me, I sagged as he caught me. Smith carried me to the bed and dropped me on the mattress. With one hand he flipped me to my stomach before grabbing my hips and yanking me onto his cock.

  I cried out as it speared into me. There was no long, drawing strokes. He fucked me hard with a merciless rhythm that sent all my blood rushing to the spot where we were joined. There was only him and this building need. I dug my fingers into the sheets and held on.

  “Let go,” he ordered, and I relaxed my fingers. Without a hold on the bed, his punishing strokes pushed me forward until I was splayed against the mattress like a rag doll.

  “It’s time to come now,” he said harshly. “Milk my cock, beautiful.”

  I tightened around him and let myself go, abandoning everything I was to his control.

  4

  Smith

  Belle hadn’t stirred when I rose from bed that evening. I’d fucked her into some sort of comatose state, and while I worried that we couldn’t avoid facing this much longer, I was relieved to see her at peace. I checked on Penny in the nursery before making my way to my study. I went directly to my desk, opened the drawer, and discovered the photograph of Margot staring at me.

  I sank into my chair, the last tethers of hope I’d clung to slipping from my grasp. I’d gotten rid of the
photograph. Thrown it out. It was back. Only Belle knew about Margot. I’d wanted to believe her when she said it was a misunderstanding before. After finding her on the ice, I no longer knew what to believe. She’d walked onto that pond with our baby. She had put this photograph in the drawer again. Had she switched her own tea? What was happening to my wife?

  Humphrey appeared in the door, bowing to me as I quickly shut the desk drawer. “Pardon me, sir, but you have a guest.”

  “I’m not really up to seeing anyone today.” The truth was that I was tired. My head felt like I’d injected lead between my eyeballs. I no longer knew how to carry the weight of all of this, and the last thing I needed was another problem to deal with.

  “I said as much,” he replied tightly, “but she’s quite insistent.”

  I groaned, my eyes closing as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Brunette? Gorgeous but terrifying?”

  “Yes,” Humphrey said. “Should I tell her to come back?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, Humphrey.” I heaved myself back up and made my way toward the door. “I’ll see to her.”

  “Very good, sir.” He backed away to allow me to exit.

  “Miss Kincaid will probably be staying a while.”

  “The guest rooms are full,” he reminded me stiffly. “There is the guest house, but it will need a thorough cleaning.”

  “We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” We’d had more than enough on the list for today.

  His bushy eyebrows met like two caterpillars bumping together, but he quickly rearranged his face into subservience. “I hate to bring this up, but I should remind you that I’m leaving in the morning to visit to holiday with my family in Wales. Would you prefer if I canceled my trip?”

  I stifled a groan. Now more than ever we needed stability at Thornham, but the only person I could count on was Mrs. Winters, the least agreeable one of the bunch. I pasted a forced smile on my face. “No, of course not. I’ll speak to Mrs. Price about the guest house. Georgia can take the couch tonight.”