by Stella Hart
I wanted it, and that was why I begged for it. The drugs were just a way for Nate to tease that dark truth out of me.
In the end—despite the sweeping shame I felt now—I was grateful for one thing. While last night involved physical torture as well as mental torture, at least it was a hell of a lot better than other types of torture, like the beatings, electricity, and knives Nate had used on me in the past. Toe-curling pleasure would always be preferable to being carved up and permanently scarred.
With a sigh, I scrunched my eyes shut and buried my head in the pillow, wishing I could get back to sleep so I could stop the endless carousel of humiliated thoughts in my mind. It was too hard, though. I’d already slept for a long time, and my body didn’t need any more rest at the moment.
The hatch finally opened with a loud metallic groan, and Nate’s footsteps echoed in the passageway. I sat up, heart hammering. I never knew what was coming from him anymore—it could be food and water, or it could be torture.
A quiet sigh of relief escaped my lips when he appeared in the doorway to the main room of the bunker. There was no torture kit in his arms, and he wasn’t holding any drinks that could be drugged with more of that Eros stuff. Instead, he held a paper plate with two dry pieces of toast in one hand and a stack of books and papers in the other.
“Breakfast,” he said curtly, throwing the paper plate to the floor.
“Thanks,” I muttered, getting off the bunk.
“Laurel stopped by.”
My eyes snapped upward. “Is she still here?”
“No. I told her you were at therapy, and I had no idea when you’d be back.”
“Oh.” I lowered my gaze and took a bite of the toast. It tasted like cardboard.
“She brought this stuff over for you,” Nate went on, gesturing to the stack of books and papers. “Printed copies of the notes she emailed you, in case you hadn’t been checking emails, and relevant textbooks. She still thinks you’re going back at some point, and she’s worried you’ll fall behind if you don’t study.”
“That’s nice of her,” I murmured before taking another small bite.
Nate pressed his lips into a thin line as he watched me eat. Then he lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug and turned away. “I might as well burn this shit. You’ll never need it again.”
I swallowed thickly. “Wait.”
He turned back. “What?”
“Could I have it?”
His brows furrowed. “These books?”
“Yes.”
He laughed drily and shook his head. “You know you’re not actually going back to Blackthorne, right?”
“I know. But it’s so boring down here. It would give me something to do.”
I expected him to refuse, because the soul-crushing boredom was part of my torture, but he nodded instead. “Fine. Take it.”
He dropped the stuff on the floor before turning around again and disappearing down the passage. I fell on the books like I was drowning in the ocean and they were a life raft. I couldn’t even remember the last time I read something that wasn’t the back of an old can.
Laurel had delivered five textbooks altogether—two technical writing books, two media studies books, a critical thinking book, and a psychology book.
Frowning, I turned the thick psychology book over in my hands, wondering why she dropped it off. Even though our Intro to Critical Thinking professor occasionally discussed certain psychological theories in her lectures, I couldn’t recall this particular book being on the required reading list for the course. It looked interesting, though. Psychology was a cool subject.
I decided to read the book from cover to cover, even the boring introductory sections, because I had nothing better to do with my time.
When I got to the fourth page, something odd caught my attention. Laurel had highlighted two words.
It is.
My forehead wrinkled as I stared at them. Why would she highlight those two words and nothing else?
I shrugged it off and turned the page. Perhaps she was testing her highlighter to make sure it hadn’t run out of ink, or maybe her hand had slipped and accidentally marked the words.
On the eighth page, I noticed another bright yellow highlighter mark. This time, it covered the capital L in a famous psychologist’s name—Thomas Laplace. On the ninth page, the word ‘are’ and a period were highlighted.
A spark of hope that had died inside me flared back to life as I mentally connected the words I’d seen so far.
It is L are.
It had to be some sort of message from Laurel. There was no way the markings were simply a coincidence.
I didn’t have a pen or pencil to keep track of everything, so I had to remember it all as I went through the book and scanned each and every page for more highlighted parts. Eventually, I had a full message.
It is L. Are you all right? Am concerned. Get a note to me if possible. I will understand even if vague.
I almost cried with joy. Laurel obviously hadn’t believed the police when they told her everything was fine at the Lockwood estate, and she wasn’t willing to drop it until she was able to speak with me privately.
I leaned against the wall and chewed the inside of my cheek as I considered a way to get a message back to her. It didn’t seem possible. Unless…
I sat bolt upright, heart pounding as an idea struck me. It could work, as long as I was careful.
I waited until Nate showed up to give me dinner. When he dropped the plate on the floor, he smirked at the book in my lap. “How’s the studying going?” he said in a mocking tone.
Resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself, I lifted my shoulders in a listless shrug. “It’s better than doing nothing, I guess,” I muttered.
Before he could turn to leave again, I scooted over to the end of the bunk. “Can I ask you something?”
Nate frowned. “What?”
“Would I be able to text Laurel?”
“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
I held up a palm. “Just listen,” I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. “You want her to stop being suspicious of you, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I think I should thank her for dropping off those books and notes for me, and maybe ask her some questions about the next assignment,” I said. “Ignoring her would make her more suspicious of the whole situation, because we’re friends. It would just be weird.”
“Good point. I’ll text her from your phone.”
“No, I think I should do it,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear my pounding heartbeat.
His eyes narrowed again. “Why?”
“Because it makes sense to do it that way,” I said, lifting my brows. “Up until now, you’ve been texting her pretending to be me, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s probably part of the reason why she’s so suspicious—because it doesn’t really sound like me,” I went on. “She knows my mannerisms and the way I talk. So if I write the next message instead of you, she’ll know it’s definitely me she’s talking to. Then she’ll finally get off your back.”
Nate tilted his head slightly to one side. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he said. “The second I hand that phone to you, you’ll call 911.”
“No. I swear, this isn’t an escape attempt,” I said, trying my best to keep the quaver out of my voice. “You can stand over me and watch me write the message so you know I’m not saying anything weird to Laurel. I just want her to stop being suspicious.”
“Why? Because you want to help me?” he replied with a disbelieving smirk.
I gritted my teeth. “No, of course not. I just know that if she’s feeling suspicious of our situation, it’s because she’s worried, and I don’t want her to feel bad. You’d understand that if you had any real friends who you actually cared about.”
Nate rubbed the back of his neck as he considered it, brows dipping low on his forehead. “
Fine. I’ll bring your phone down here,” he finally said. “But if you try to pull any shit with me, you’ll regret it.”
Yes! The first stage of my plan was complete.
I suppressed my delight and nodded slowly, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Okay.”
Nate left without another word. He returned twenty minutes later, holding my phone.
“Here,” he said brusquely, handing it to me. “Remember, I need to see everything.”
I nodded and licked my dry lips as I composed a new message to Laurel. It needed to be clear to her that I needed help, but it also needed to be casual enough to pass for a normal friendly text so that Nate wouldn’t be suspicious.
Hey, thanks for sending all the notes! I totally owe you. Do you know if the lecture material from the first four weeks is going to be in the exam for our writing class? Also, re. the psychology notes– there are a few things I don’t get in there. Will probably need your help with it at some point if that’s possible. Anyway, thanks again! Xoxo
I held the phone up to Nate, who was looming over my shoulder. “Is this okay?”
He nodded. “That’s fine. Send it.”
I took a deep breath and sent the message. Two ticks appeared a few seconds later, letting me know that Laurel had seen it, and then three dots appeared. She was typing a response.
When it finally came through, my heart sank.
You’re welcome for the notes! Glad they’re helping. I think the exams will cover everything. BTW, what psych notes are you talking about? I only emailed you the stuff from our critical thinking and writing courses. Or was that a typo? Lol.
Her response didn’t make any sense. In the secret textbook note she left for me earlier, she said she’d understand a plea for help from me even if it was vague, but judging by this text, it seemed as if she hadn’t understood anything at all. On top of that, she’d only mentioned emailing things to me. Nothing about dropping off the notes in person.
Suddenly I felt as if a block of ice had dropped straight through my guts. I slowly looked up at Nate.
“Something wrong?” he asked. The smug look on his face was like a needle in my heart. “Is Laurel not going to help you the way you thought she would?”
My hands began to tremble with a mixture of terror and fury. “It was you,” I whispered, feeling my so-called triumph collapsing around me like a castle made of sand.
Laurel hadn’t come over to deliver any notes today. Nate simply accessed my emails and printed the notes she sent me a few days ago, after we ran into her at Blackthorne, and then he must’ve collected some textbooks from my dorm to bring to me along with those notes. He added in the random psychology textbook from his own collection, knowing I’d probably read it first, and he highlighted all the words on the pages to make me believe that help was really out there.
He enjoyed messing with me like this; mentally building me up while secretly preparing the ground for my downfall. His ability to predict my every move meant he would always be one step ahead of me no matter what I tried. He knew I would ask to keep the notes and books out of sheer boredom this morning, and he knew I’d find the encoded message and attempt to contact Laurel.
Once again, I should’ve known what was happening. Should’ve known he would never let me win so easily. He only wanted me to think I was winning so he could snatch my victory out of my hands and revel in my crushing disappointment when I realized my escape attempt had failed. He’d take pleasure in punishing me for it, too.
The thought made bile rise in my throat. I couldn’t look at his smug face for a second longer. He was like a black hole, sucking the light and life out of everything in his path.
“What was me?” Nate asked, voice dripping with amusement.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I muttered. “The note in the book.”
“Took you long enough to figure it out.” He stepped closer and put his hand under my chin, forcing it upward.
My stomach coiled as our eyes met, blending fear with attraction. “Why?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I just wanted to hear him say it.
He smiled thinly. “Something occurred to me last night. I’ve told you the same thing over and over again: don’t test me. I know it’s just a figure of speech, but it made me realize that I should be testing you to see if you’d try to run again. Now I know the answer.”
Despite my attempt to keep my emotions at bay, a strangled sob escaped from my mouth. Why was I so stupid and blind when it came to this man? Why did I keep letting him play with my mind like this?
He held my phone up and typed out a new message to Laurel. Yes, typo. I was talking about the philosophy section of the critical thinking stuff and it autocorrected to psych. Lol. Anyway, don’t worry about it – I just figured out the stuff that was confusing me!
He showed it to me and cocked a brow. “I think she’ll believe that. Do you?”
I nodded miserably. “Yes.”
“Good.” He knelt on the ground so that we were eye to eye. Then he leaned even closer, eyes glittering. “Do you get it now, Alexis?”
“Get what?” I choked out, wiping my left eye as a tear leaked out.
“That you’re mine to play with. Mine to break down. Mine to dispose of when I’m sick of you.” His cruel smile grew wider. “You can’t leave me, no matter what you try.”
My shoulders sagged as my lips trembled. “Yes. I get it,” I whispered.
It was obvious now. Nate had been right all along.
I was never, ever getting out of here.
24
Alexis
I closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation as Nate’s hips ground into mine, driving himself deeper inside me. My fingernails dug into his back and sweat rolled down my forehead, dripping over my brows.
“Harder,” I panted, eager for more of Nate’s fierce touch. “Oh, fuck…”
It had been ten days since my aborted escape attempt, and I hadn’t left the bomb shelter again. Every night, Nate came down to visit me under the pretense of delivering more bottles of water or food, and every single time, we ended up on one of the bunks, naked and screwing each other’s brains out.
He never said a word to me. I didn’t say anything either, but I knew what he wanted every time. Our gazes would lock, and in one look, we’d silently say everything we needed to each other. Then we’d pounce on each other and strip our clothes away in rough, frantic movements, as if we were lovers finally reunited after months apart, unable to bear another second without the other’s body.
I was vulnerable to Nate in a way that was both excruciating and thrilling. It wasn’t regular lust or attraction, and it certainly wasn’t love. It was something fucked up, something toxic. Something that would kill me if I didn’t get away from it as fast as possible.
But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t drag myself away from the brutal kisses and vicious strokes that tied my stomach into knots. Couldn’t tamp down the desperate need that flooded through me every time I saw him.
I knew I was going to die down here at some point anyway, so I figured I might as well eke as much pleasure as I could out of these final days or weeks. It beat sitting around being miserable, and in terms of physical punishment—which was what Nate viewed our sex as—it was a lot better than the alternatives.
It also didn’t hurt that he was the best sex I’d ever had, as much as I hated to admit that.
As heat curled through me, starting at my toes, I opened my eyes and used all my strength to push Nate off me before crawling on top of him and placing my hands on his shoulders.
I needed him to look up at me and see the stark, unbridled desire in my gaze. See what he’d turned me into—a ravenous mess of a girl who wanted nothing more than to let herself be used as a toy. It made me feel powerless and powerful at the same time, and that seemingly impossible combination was intoxicating. Addictive.
I rocked back and forth on Nate, gasping and whimpering, and his hands gripped my hips, fi
ngertips roughly digging into me. Three muttered words left his lips, barely audible over my loud panting. “Come for me.”
I fell apart right away, eyes scrunching shut again as bliss rocketed through me, making me scream. Nate groaned and tensed up, pumping inside me harder from below until his face contorted and warmth exploded inside me.
I collapsed face-first onto his chest to catch my breath. Then I rolled off and lay next to him, one hand reaching upward to mop the perspiration dotting my forehead.
It was time for the shame.
Like clockwork, that same old humiliated heat would rise inside me every time the pleasure started to fade. Regret would set in soon after, and I’d find myself asking the same questions over and over. Why? Why was I doing this to myself?
Then, like the messy, pain-addicted fool I was, I’d run straight back into Nate’s arms as soon as his footsteps echoed in that corridor again.
My breathing steadied, and I turned my head slightly so I could sneak a glance at him. He usually got dressed and left without a word as soon as we were done, but a couple of times he’d stayed next to me and fallen asleep, squished right next to me in the narrow bunk like we were lovers on a camping trip.
When he did that, it was easy to pretend there was something real between us. Easy to look over at him and pretend he was nothing more than a hot boyfriend who gave me the most powerful orgasms of my life. Not a captor. Not a guy who planned to murder me in cold blood one day.
Just Nate.
Right now, I had no idea if he was going to fall asleep next to me again. His eyes were closed, but I could tell by his tense muscles and controlled breaths that he was still wide awake. Probably questioning himself and feeling the exact same sense of shame and disgrace as me.
I knew there was a silent battle raging inside him. He wanted me in the same twisted, fucked up way that I wanted him—otherwise he wouldn’t come here every night—but he was resisting it as hard as he could. It never worked, though. He fell for the shameful attraction every time, and then he was forced to lie there and count his sins, wondering why he couldn’t say no to the girl he claimed to hate more than anything.
