I’ve been sharing my novella Dominic chapter by chapter every week. You may already know Dominic (aka Tyson) from The Seven Chambers Series (specifically Stolen Flame). This is his story of how he came to be employed at The Chamber. Please sign up for my newsletter to continue reading Dominic!
*The following contains explicit content, 18+ readers, please. Also, this is a draft copy which has not been edited for publication.
The Men of the Seven Chambers Series
by D.W. Marshall
I turn the volume up and watch it all unfold. The polite exchange, a more formal meeting. Then his hands on her, them on the bed.
Fuck me. I don’t know if I can do this. What kind of animal am I?
This is worse than anything I have ever experienced but I don’t look away. If she has to endure this pain, then so must I. My hands are in tight fists as I suffer this sight. When the asshole exits her Chamber I want to tackle him to the ground and wipe the smug satisfied grin from his face.
I refrain, my attention instead on those cameras. I need to know how my girl is doing. The second I see that she is freaking out I tear ass up those stairs.
I don’t announce myself immediately. I can’t. Watching her there broken, crying, shoulders rising and falling while Zee attempts to comfort her—I have no words. My chest is tight, threatening to squeeze my heart until it bursts.
What the fuck have I done?
I have to keep my shit together because this feed is also in Mason’s possession. I clear my throat to announce myself. Both of their heads snap up in my direction. We don’t say anything, only lock eyes. The pain behind Flame’s will haunt me forever. Still, I don’t break contact. I owe it to her to be there for her. She takes what I am giving her.
“Is everything okay in here?” I ask, my heart hammering in my chest. My physiology telling me it is time to grab her and run. I don’t know if I can sit and watch her suffer through this. “Are you harmed?” I keep it tight and professional, hoping that she can see the tenderness in my eyes.
“No, Tyson. I wasn’t harmed—physically. This is just much harder than I expected. I’m much better now.” Now that I see you, her eyes tell me. “Thank you for checking on me.”
I want to say more, but I don’t. I want to tell her that we are leaving, but I know she would not leave with me. For one thing, I don’t think I have completely earned her trust.
“I’m right downstairs,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers. What I am really saying is that I am suffering with you and I will take you away from here. Just say the word.
She nods what I think is understanding at the thoughts hidden behind my words and her face splits into the briefest smile. She gets me loud and clear.
“I think she’s good, Tyson. Thanks for checking on her.”
“Never a problem. I’m always right downstairs.”
“Thanks, Tyson. I’m okay now.”
I think she means that she is okay because of me. I hope that is what she means.
I nod a final time and head back downstairs.
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*Draft copy which has not been edited for publication
© Copyright 2016 D.W. Marshall