Trained Obedience

By Celia Crown

From the very beginning, Ronan had wanted Tisa.

 

The reasons went beyond her innocence, the fight in her that wanted freedom, or even her young age.

 

He wanted her to quash the angry curl of control over her, the vile possessiveness to crush her hope of being free.

 

He's a rough man with a crude demeanor, but he wasn't going to change.

 

Not for himself and certainly not for her.

 

What he does works for him; it would be redundant to fix something that was never broken.

 

He did, however, need to fix that disobedience of hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Crown
• Release date: Apr 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223450955

Book preview

TRAINED OBEDIENCE

____________________

CELIA CROWN

Copyright © 2020 by Celia Crown.

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

Contents

Trained Obedience

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Afterword

More Books

Trained Obedience

By Celia Crown

From the very beginning, Ronan had wanted Tisa.

The reasons went beyond her innocence, the fight in her that wanted freedom, or even her young age.

He wanted her to quash the angry curl of control over her, the vile possessiveness to crush her hope of being free.

He’s a rough man with a crude demeanor, but he wasn’t going to change.

Not for himself and certainly not for her.

What he does works for him; it would be redundant to fix something that was never broken.

He did, however, need to fix that disobedience of hers.

Chapter One

___________

Tisa

Three Months Prior

She is my roommate.

That’s all.

We just moved in together for other reasons; she needed to be closer to campus, and I had recently gotten a job at a marketing company.

The day I turned eighteen, I packed my things and left my parents’ house without looking back. I knew that if I even glanced over my shoulder, they would double their efforts to guilt me back to their toxic home.

I barely know Lena, a wild personality, to say the least. I saw her go from cardigan-wearing schoolgirl to stiletto-wearing dominatrix in one day.

She said her boyfriend likes to role-play; information I didn’t seek but was kindly provided with a cheeky grin.

Lena offered to take me on a road trip after she saw the postcard on my desk, but I politely declined.

Since I did not know her well and we had just moved in together, it was not appropriate. A tiny part of me felt the possibility of danger swirling around when she offered.

I’m not sure how she managed to persuade me. But I ended up in her car with my GPS locator continually sending signals to the laptop at our apartment.

I brought a backpack filled with clothes and essentials while her beaten-up up truck had been filled with food and water.

In the end, I have only myself to blame for not being strong enough to tell her ‘no’ and just carry on with my day.

Living with my parents hadn’t made me strong and immune to people trying to take control of my life.

I’m sort of surprised that her boyfriend did not tag along. That would have made me firmer in declining to go on this spontaneous trip. I could have used a lot of excuses; work, her classes, and the lack of security at our home.

There is a big project happening in our marketing unit right now. Everyone had to take part of it home to complete, giving us a week to report our progress to the project manager. This new job has given me a good reason to limit social interaction if so desired.

I need the space.

Being near people is suffocating for me. I guess any speck of freedom is like oxygen to my weak soul.

Are you sure we’re going the right way? I ask tentatively as my eyes follow the blended trees.

I was under the impression that the renowned honeycomb town is filled with life and warm sun. But this place seems pretty remote with gas stations spread out miles apart.

We are! she exclaims while rolling down the window.

A rush of icy air gushes into the toasty car. I huddle into my light jacket, thinking I wouldn't need anything heavy-duty for our destination.

Sorry, she chirps sheepishly while rolling up the window. It got stuffy in here.

Lena parks the car on the side of the road and takes the postcard from my pocket. A swish of hateful possessiveness dances down to my stiff fingers as I stop myself from snatching the card back.

It’s mine, my only solace.

Lena reads the address on the card and jerks her head up to squint at the navigation system. She makes a contemplating noise, triggering my stomach to gurgle with anxiety.

I refuse to entertain the idea of being lost in the middle of nowhere.

Nope, she emphasizes, we’re on the right track. In fact, we’re close by.

About fifteen minutes away, she estimates after looking at the digital clock. It’s off by one hour, but she never bothered to fix it.

Or so she says, but who knows?

Whatever anyone does always raises suspicions in the back of my mind. I believe people always have ulterior motives, a philosophy that will hurt me one way or another.

The only person I can trust is my pen pal. It’s a program I picked up on when I was sixteen. A lot of military soldiers stationed overseas have no one to come home to, so this pen pal program is designed to bring comfort to them.

I have been writing to this man for the past three years. He is so kind, patient, and righteous.

The last postcard mentioned his hometown’s name and its famous honeycombs, asking me out for a taste test when he gets back.

I planned to go there with him, but Lena persuaded me to take a look first before agreeing to a date with a stranger whose name remains a mystery. It’s dangerous to reveal information about his job with the military, and I wasn’t one to pry into his privacy. For his safety, we maintained anonymity as a forbidden fruit.

Oh, shit! Lena screeches loudly as her foot stomps on the brake.

I plunge forward, my lungs compressing painfully as I become breathless. Good thing the seatbelt prevented me from going through the windshield, but I’m going to have a nasty burn from the strap.

Almost missed it!

I wheeze in pain as I rub my chest, the prickling pain beginning to ebb away.

Miss what? I grunt, pressing my back against the seat with a frown.

The house! she says, pointing her sharp nails out my window.

I slide down in the seat to keep her nails from jabbing my eyes. Turning my head to see what she’s pointing to, I get a narrow view of a brick house surrounded by dense trees with roots cracking the foundation.

It doesn’t have the best appearance, but not so bad that I would avoid it while trick-or-treating. I don’t see a car, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hidden in the back with all the trees around.

I’m pretty sure this is not the address, I mumble as I stare down at the postcard.

Then, I peer at the address she had plugged into the navigation system. Something is really off, but I can’t put my finger on it until a small mistake jumps out at me.

It says ‘East’! I squeak.

I know! she screeches back with a gasp before poking her thumb at the navigation system.

No, no, I sputter in utter disbelief. You put ‘East’ in the GPS, but it says ‘South’ here!

I show her the postcard; the address is clearly written on it—albeit a bit smudged from how many times I have read the card.

What? she mutters and snatches the card from me. No, it’s East.

Wait, is that a lowercase ‘E’? she whispers as she brings the card up to her squinting eyes.

She fires off an insult, What kind of idiot uses lowercase letters when writing an address?

I scowl at her and yank the card back to secure it neatly inside my jacket. I don’t want anyone ruining a good thing going for me; it has been a long time since I have had a meaningful conversation.

I don’t know his name, but that is alright with me. He promised to find me when he’s back on home soil, and I’m holding him to it.

Let’s go, she declares, pulling on her jacket.

Go? I repeat dumbly, Go where? We’re in the middle of nowhere.

The house, she says slowly, Duh, where else?

I don’t think so, I decline with a firm shake of my head. It’s common sense not to go into places that aren’t populated. You’re asking to be attacked by a deranged killer.

Oh, please, she scoffs offhandedly, "You’re too much into your thriller movies. I ran track when