Spark ( Book 3: Stronger Series )

16. Thankful

I woke up feeling like total shit. After Darren had left, I twisted myself back into the silk sheets, but the sound of his ownership kept ringing in my ears.

Even in death, you will always belong to me.

At least if he were dead, I could finally enjoy a life of celibacy.

After twisting and turning for several hours, wondering where he was and who he was killing, I finally gave up and went for a shower. As I washed, I contemplated the idea of escape if Darren were ever killed. I knew he lived a dangerous life, one where death was constantly knocking at his door, but he probably had that bitch in his pocket, too. I'd really only had a glimpse of what Darren was capable of, how cruel he could be, and I knew eventually the rest of that veil would fall, and I'd see the demon I knew he was. Yet I wanted to cling to the man—the one who could be tender and caring, and the one who could make my body erupt with volcanic sexual bliss. I'd rather deal with him than the demanding bloodthirsty crime lord any day.

Listening to him mention that his brother was about to have a baby with his wife weirded me out. The idea of bringing a child into this life sickened me. This was no place for something so innocent. But what was even more unsettling was the fact that Darren was going to be an uncle. To think of him as any kind of family man felt out of place and unrealistic. I didn't exactly see him as the nurturing loving type, but hey, Darren was full of surprises.

After my shower and breakfast, Holly and I went jogging on the beach in our bare feet. The water felt nice as it splashed against my legs, keeping me cool as I ran. I was quiet, trapped in my thoughts, while we kept a good, even pace, and even gave Hank and Blondie some good exercise as they kept up behind us. We circled the entire island, which I found was at least fifteen miles around. Holly and I had run along the beach before, even took a jog with Darren a few times, but I'd never been able to circle the entire island until now. When we headed back to the house, we walked waist deep in the water, giving my core and thighs a nice run for their money. By the time we made it to the front door, my feet were killing me from lack of support. In the end, it was worth it to get to run in the water.

After a quick lunch, Holly and I went for a walk through the island, with proper shoes this time, and I was content on trying to forget Darren's words. It was Thanks-fucking-giving, and that asshole had the nerve to tell me the day before that I would never see my family again and to bring them up would mean their deaths. Stupid motherfucker.

Today was supposed to be the day of giving thanks, of remembering everything you had to be grateful for. Did I even have anything to be grateful for? To be thankful for? I was alive, technically, but should I even be thankful for that? Some lives were simply not worth living, but I couldn't necessarily say that about my own. At least I wasn't a drug dependent sex slave in a Mexican brothel... yet.

Eventually, we came across the place where I remembered hiding the branch I had used as a makeshift bo the day I accidentally hit Holly in the face so many weeks ago. It was still right where I left it. As Holly and I walked, I nonchalantly picked it up and started twirling it in my hands. Holly regarded me curiously as she watched me play.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked me.

"Bōjutsu training," I replied. "The only weapon I ever mastered."

"That's awesome. Show me!" Holly beamed, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

I looked back at my guards who were about fifty feet behind us, wondering if they would object. After a few seconds, I finally decided fuck it.

"Step back then," I said, and Holly immediately obliged, giddy like a five-year-old.

Taking my time, I warmed up with some figure eights, twirling the bo over my arms and across my body. The motion felt good, almost as if I were stretching muscles I had forgotten about. Once I'd warmed up, I practiced a few tricks, spinning the bo above my head over my open palm before twirling it behind my back, over my leg, and around my neck and torso. Every move was flawless, calculated, and precise. I hadn't lost my touch after all.