The Fae Book 3: Butcher and Raine

Chapter 1 (Raine): Utter Darkness

***TW for kidnapping/imprisoning h and threat of violence***

My mother was a happy woman, but her eyes occasionally were shadowed with sadness. Even pain on some days. Calypso Caroline loved my father with everything she had, a love so true you rarely see it, she often told me. Stories about my parents were my favorites from childhood. 

Maman always told me that the three years they had together were idyllic years that resulted in me. Every ounce of pain since then she wouldn't trade since it meant she'd had something so wonderful, it was worth mourning.

Sometimes, I think she didn't know what to do with a daughter like me. She was feminine dresses and skirts, silky tops, high heels, perfect makeup, sleek elegance. In weather terms, she was a sunny, calm day. I was more like a thunderstorm. With lots of hail and lightning. I was jeans, Dr. Martens, T-shirts and a swipe of lip gloss. I could dress up on occasion, but most of the time, that wasn't me.

My mother, who loved me unreasonably, would often look at me and murmur in French, What am I going to do with you, Raine? She didn't understand my combative nature, my readiness to throw down should the situation require it, a character trait that got me into trouble time and time again throughout my school years and beyond. I couldn't help it. It wasn't in me to ignore bullies or injustices. It stirred something up in me.

When I complained to Maman that the men I dated weren't interesting, she'd look at me with a knowing smile. "You choose weak men, Raine. You need a man who's as strong as you. Maybe stronger."

She was wrong. As my current circumstances proved, I didn't need a man who was stronger than I was, I needed a man who wouldn't break my heart or, you know, threaten to kill me. It's the simple things in life.

Even though he was definitely stronger than I was, I don't think Maman would approve of the man who was currently drawing the tip of his knife down my cheek, not allowing it to cut into me, but letting me know it very easily could. I couldn't move, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything but shake since I was tied to a chair that was bolted to the floor. In a cement room. With a drain in the floor. Very comforting. I had to swallow down the hysterical laughter that was trying to bubble up in my throat but didn't because that's where the knife was poised.

"There's been some mistake," I insisted, and with my words, the tip of that knife began drawing patterns on my skin again, still not breaking the skin.

"I don't make mistakes."

Butcher's incredibly deep voice remained even, despite his actions. He sounded dispassionate, almost bored, as he continued.

"You've been working with Aidan. We've been watching your studio, and he comes in there every week without fail. We have pictures of you accepting envelopes from him --"

"To give to one of my instructors," I breathed out, willing my voice to remain steady. "They're for her. The envelopes contain her child support money. He insists on delivering the envelopes to the studio every Thursday, hoping to see her, but I accept them for her. So she doesn't have to. See him, I mean."

"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" Butcher asked.

"I don't understand what you're asking," I responded.

"I asked if you thought you'd get away with it. Seems straightforward to me."

"I mean, I understand the words, I just don't understand what you're implying. I wasn't trying to get away with anything because I wasn't doing anything!"

Since I'd already lost the battle with sweating, I was doing my best not to cry. A fine sheen of perspiration was currently dotting my forehead, but I refused to give into tears. Although I rarely indulged in that emotional release, circumstances beyond my control were putting my resolve to the test. And this man was definitely beyond my control. A first for me since I always was in control with men.