I moved to the second drawer, ripping it open. Again, nothing but lacey lingerie. I flung open the third then the fourth. Every bit of fabric was lingerie. I turned with a defeated sigh. I refused to parade around in these shreds of cloth, but that would leave me stuck in the same dingy outfit I had arrived in. Maybe I could manage to air them out, or wash them in the tub and dry them before he came back?
When would he come back?
The idea of never knowing clenched at my chest. He could barge in here at any moment, whenever it pleased him. This was his home, and I was just a prisoner here.
My gaze landed on the bed and I noticed more drawers inlaid into the wooden frame. I kneeled down and quickly went through every drawer, only to find all the same as before. Each one would leave me completely and utterly exposed. I would have cloth draped on my flesh, but everything would remain unhidden. Sheer and lace nighties, G-strings, and see-through teddies. Nothing here would hide my private areas.
In defeat, I resolved on taking a shower to wash the grime from my body and to just put on my old dirty outfit after.
I turned the water on. Heavy streams fell from a large, square rainfall showerhead above. For such a sociopath, Julian really did seem to take pride in his luxuries.
I tested and readjusted the water to a temperature that pleased me before slipping out of my clothes, folding them and placing them on the counter before stepping in and pulling the pleated black shower curtain closed. I lathered myself in a thick layer of suds, attempting to scrub all the filth of the day away.
A half hour later, I felt satisfied enough physically, but no matter how hard I scrubbed, it wouldn’t make me feel better emotionally. My psyche was shot. I worked on case after case assuming I’d never have my own file. Well, at least not again. I’d already lived my worst nightmare. As my mother’s blood pooled across the white linoleum of her pristine kitchen, I remembered thinking how angry she was going to be about the mess, too shocked to fully grasp what I was seeing.
I shook away thoughts of the past and stepped out the shower, grabbing a small towel to dry myself off. Once I felt dry enough, I turned to gather and replace my clothes, only to find they were gone.
I had sworn I had left them neatly folded on the sink. I checked between the sink and the toilet, the floor around the tub, and even in the cupboard under the sink. Nothing.
I peeked out into the bedroom, scanning the floor, the bed, the chairs. Still nothing.
He wouldn’t honestly steal my clothes. Would he?
As it processed in my mind, I saw no other logical explanation. That was his plan. He had to have stolen my clothes, to what—force me to wear those scraps he had stocked in all the drawers? It wasn’t happening. I would tie together all the towels before I wore those skimpy garments.
I thought that would have to suffice. Not that I had many options otherwise. I grabbed the other towels, brought them out into the bedroom, and plopped onto the plush bed. I attempted to tie ends together over and over again to no avail.
I flopped back onto the fluffy silk pillows and draped the towels over my exposed bits. I was beyond frustrated. I was furious. Who did he think he was? What right did he have to just steal my clothes and call it a day?
My fingers twirled around the silky wine sheets, my mind deep in thought when it occurred to me I was lying on my answer. He thought I would cave and wear the lingerie he’d so kindly provided. No.
I ripped the top sheet off the bed and wrapped it across my frail frame. The two ends doubled over my torso before I tied them together in a tight knot in the back. Gathering up the dainty fabric so I wouldn’t trip, I strode over to the vanity and glanced over my work. My shoulders were still bare, but if anything, it looked like a homemade evening gown.
As the day droned on, boredom consumed me. I had tried a handful of times to check the doorknob, thinking maybe Julian would have checked on me and possibly forgotten to lock it, but with no luck. What was I supposed to do? I was locked up all alone with nothing to do or to entertain me. I didn’t even know what time of day it was in this stone box. Sooner or later, I’d grown insane in my isolation.
I paced the room, attempting to strategize a means for escape. Not that anything I could come up with would help me; I had no weapons, no strength, and no courage to do anything for myself. All of my ideas were completely useless.
As I lounged on the bed, my gaze kept drifting to the wardrobe. Knowing those explicit toys were just beyond the mahogany cabinet doors continuously threatened to intrigue me. I forced myself to ignore it. How much could I tolerate before I agreed to do anything he wanted? Maybe my mind was wandering because of the insatiable hunger that ravaged my stomach. Either way, I had to make myself not think about food or the tools of torture.
I glared at the wardrobe in deep contemplation for what seemed like eternity. It wasn’t like it would hurt just to look at them, right? If anything, I would just end up evaluating the damage dealt by each device, categorized into different levels of effectiveness.
Looking at it from a scientific point of view, I caved. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, as it always did.
I slipped myself off the bed and strode over to the wardrobe. I hesitated as I gripped the knobs. This was part of my reality now, whether I wanted to accept it or not. With a deep breath, I pulled open the double doors, revealing the countless different devices in all their horrid glory.
My sights fastened on the whips. There were so many. I wondered what could possibly be the difference between each one. Some were nothing but long or short individual strands of leather fastened together at the hilt of a leather bound handle. Others were long, thin rods with a triangular, square, or heart-shaped piece of leather at the tips. One that had multiple strands of thin leather even portrayed the look of barbed wire as small pieces of leather were knotted down the length of the strands.
I picked the one that seemed less abrasive, one of the thin black rods with a brown leather heart patch at the end. I flipped it over and over again, examining the stitch work and the quality of the leather. From the looks of it, it seemed quite well-made with real, genuine leather.
I wondered what it felt like to be struck with one of these. Would it be mildly discomforting, or did it have a full sting as intended? Wielded by someone with Julian’s strength, I supposed it didn’t matter. Whatever the intent of the design, he could flay me if he wanted.
Engrossed in thought, I almost didn’t notice the sound of the door being latched. Julian stood in front of the closed door, a plate in hand with a large juicy burger neatly cut into four precise sections and a pile of crisp steak fries. I could still hear the grease sizzling on the meat and the aroma that filled the room made my mouth water in anticipation. I could almost taste the warm grease on my tongue.
I had almost forgotten that I was rummaging through his collection of torture devices until I noticed his blatant look of amusement flickering between me and the wardrobe.
My cheeks instantly flushed at the thought of the sight. This small woman sitting on the floor in nothing but a sheet to cover her bare body, a whip in hand and all of his treasured toys on full display. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed.
In a panic, I slid the whip across the wooden floor and quickly got to my feet.
I cleared my throat and managed the most authoritative voice I could muster “Where are my clothes?” I demanded. I was in defense mode.
He glanced around to all the open drawers and lingerie scattered across the room.
“It seems you have already found them.”
“Those,” I pointed to the pile of skimpy material, “are not my clothes. Where is the suit I was wearing when you kidnapped me?”
“Well, I couldn’t have you prancing around in those filthy rags, now could I?” he stated. “So I had them burned.”
My jaw dropped in shock. He’d actually burned my clothes! If Kiera ever found me, she was going to kill me. If there was one thing she loved more than me, it was her
wardrobe.
“Now that that’s been settled, are you hungry?” he asked, sitting in the wooden chair he had sat in earlier. I was starving. My stomach sounded like a truck rally at this point.
I nodded.
He smiled. It seemed genuine. Sweet, almost.
“Good,” he said and set the plate on the table, “because this will be your first lesson in training.”
My face twisted in disgust. “What the hell do you mean, training?”
“I mean you must learn to be obedient. If you want to eat, you need to learn to follow orders. Commands, if you will.” His lips twisted into a sadistic grin. He couldn’t be serious.
“And what is it you expect me to do?”
“It’s quite simple, really. If you want your food, all you have to do is kneel at my feet and beg me for it.”
His gaze challenged me, tempting me to cave. But I couldn’t do it. How was I supposed to just abandon all of my morals, all of my dignity, and beg this psychotic bastard for bit of food?
My stomach howled in protest. I was so hungry, and the invigorating scent of the food was causing disarray in my mind. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I shook my head. “No.”
He raised a brow. “Are you sure? This will be your last chance to obey.”
“Or what, you’re going to whip me?”
He grinned at me and turned towards the food, taking his time to unfold a handkerchief and place it on his lap. Picking up the section of burger, he slowly brought it to his mouth and bit into the sandwich, chewing at his own, torturous pace.
I couldn’t allow myself to cave, but watching him eat the food intended for me sent a boiling rage through my chest. Here I was, starving to death in this stupid room while he dug his teeth into bite after bite of the succulent-looking burger.
“How are you even digesting that?” I snapped.
He took another bite. “The same way you do, but it doesn’t offer me any sustenance. Taste great, though. You sure you don’t want some?” He waved a piece in my direction.
I stood there, silently and painfully watching him eat my food at an agonizingly slow place until every crumb was gone, making it clear he intentionally took his time devouring it all in front of me as a form of torture. It was working. But I would never admit that to the likes of him.
He stood, sweeping off any crumbs that may have found their way onto the table onto the now empty plate and gathering the napkin in his hands.
My stomach groaned in agony as it craved to be filled. Particularly by the delicious-looking burger he had just consumed.
He strode over to me and cupped my face in his large hands, gripping it so I couldn’t turn away. His eyes flitted over my features with pity.
“I do hope you change your mind, Abby.” His voice was surprisingly tender. “I would truly hate to witness a beauty such as yourself wither away before me.”
What was he playing at? Was he doing “good-cop, bad-cop” towards me in hopes I would cave to his bizarre demands?
He released me and made his way to the door. Standing in the doorway, he turned back to me, his dark grin replacing any softness I had witnessed before.
“I’m certain you will feel much different about your choices in the morning.”
Chapter 4
I crashed into the door as it closed, trying to chase after him. My fists beat on the solid wood in anger.
“I’m certain you will feel much different in the morning,” I sassed to myself as I slid down the length of the door into a heap of nothingness. What I wouldn’t give to have slammed that wooden leg into his creepy, dead heart.
I wondered what would happen if I staked him. Would he burst into flames? Maybe disintegrate into a pile of ash at my feet? Or perhaps explode into a mess of goop and gore? All of which I had witnessed on various different sci-fi shows and movies. My personal hope would be the latter. To be able to still grasp what remained of him in my victorious hands, screaming to the gods in gory triumph.
What I wouldn’t give to just get out of this place. To see Kiera again. To go home.
My stomach groaned in the deafening silence. I tossed and turned in hopes of finding a position that would settle my stomach long enough for me to fall asleep, but it was no use. Exhaustion plagued me, but hunger was outweighing my need for sleep and keeping me wide awake in the darkness. Why did he have to be so cruel?
I understood that I was prisoner and he wanted nothing more than a pet, but still, pets needed food. Starvation was a flawed method of training.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since I had first been brought here, and though it felt like weeks, logically I knew it could have only been days. Julian had come back a few times since he first demanded I kneel. There was always something new, steaming, and sizzling on a large plate, sometimes threatening to spill over the edges of the fancy dishware he held. The succulent aromas of each dish constantly threatened to break me and make me surrender to his wishes.
The last few meals, I wouldn’t even leave my bed. I knew his game. He would come in, demand my obedience, and when I wouldn’t respond, he would devour the food in an dramatically drawn-out period of time while sitting at the desk, making sure I knew that he was eating what was intended for me while I lay there, starving.
I practically lived in that bed, only leaving it long enough to relieve myself, which was becoming scarce due to the lack of nutrients in my body. And though my mind demanded I resist, my body had demands of its own. I didn’t know how much longer I would last like this. I had my fair share of water; the sink in my bathroom made sure of that. But even then, the normal human body could only last, at most, three weeks before it would shut down.
My mind often wandered off to some of the psychology experiments I used to conduct on the lab. At the time, I was far more concerned with a passing grade than I was how with how the animals might feel being trapped and manipulated. As karma would have it, here I was—the rat being tempted, trained into responding to rewards as long as I willing to demean myself.
Could I really be trained to do as he wished when I knew exactly what he was doing? And how he intended to do it?
Control a creature’s food, even a human, and you control them. This was all part of my training to become a forensic analyst. I had to know how these things worked. I had passed at the top of my class. I thought I knew what to expect, how to react, and how to stay alive long enough for rescue to arrive.
Clearly, I was wrong.
As I sipped from the faucet in the sink, I began questioning how I’d even passed those courses. I was not equipped enough to endure such punishment. And I feared that this was only the tip of the iceberg.
The absence of entertainment clawed at my mental state. I needed something to distract me from my impending death. I poked around every corner of my room, praying to find a book or an instruction manual, anything that I could read to pass the time. Maybe shred it and make a puzzle of the bits of paper.
But there was nothing.
Just as I was attempting to lift the mattress in one last attempt of finding something, I heard the locking mechanisms of the door being clicked over. My heart clenched in my chest as if I had just been caught red-handed doing something I wasn’t supposed to.
I stood by the headboard, straight as a plank, watching the door handle turn slowly. My eyes were glued to the wooden door, waiting to see his face appear.
And without disappointment, there he was. A gleam in his eyes. Though the poor lighting was less than accommodating. I couldn’t be sure, but I could have sworn they looked blue, even from this distance. Like perfect sapphires glistening in firelight.
The only color I had ever seen them were as crimson as blood, beautiful in their devilish, hunger-driven craze.
But now they appeared soft. Even more gentle then the days before. Compassionate, if I dared say so. They left me confused. How could the same beast that had kidnapped me, drugged me, stole from me, and starved me have the capac
ity to actually harbor a feeling such as compassion?
I was almost too distracted to notice the food, but my starvation won my mind.
On the silver bed tray sat a steaming omelet nestled closely to a pile of fresh bacon and a large stack of thick buttered pancakes. A tall glass of orange juice and a piping-hot cup of coffee sat beside the plate with a small white gravy boat I prayed held sweet maple syrup. My stomach flipped and groaned in anticipation, hoping to get even a crumb of the decadent breakfast.
Julian offered me a gentle smile, sincere and warm, before setting the tray on the table and taking his usual seat. But instead of focusing on his demands and hording the delicious food, he turned to me. Placing his elbows on his legs, he gazed at the wooden planks, deep in thought. I had never seen Julian act this way. He seemed almost distraught.
Could he be feeling remorse about keeping me here? About his ridiculous conditions on how I would be able to eat? I doubted it. Very much so. A creature like him probably didn’t have high levels of empathy, especially for his food source. This was a façade. An act he was putting on to get me to kneel beside him. To get me to take pity on him and miraculously want to please him in any way to make him happy.
I was irate. I knew the game he was pulling. But I could feel that part of me was caving. I couldn’t pinpoint what was alluring me; maybe it was in my nature to want to comfort another agonized soul. But did he even have a soul?
Julian’s eyes caught mine. The tortured look in his expression tugged at my rapidly beating heart.
He gestured towards the bed. “Abby, take a seat, dear.” His voice was deep, but the tone was so soft it knocked the air out of my lungs.
What was happening?!
I watched him with scrutiny for a moment longer before following his request and sitting on the edge of the bed. I made note not to sit too close, but not too far away. I couldn’t get myself to be so near to him—the thought repulsed me. But the allure of him warred with my better judgment.
Blood Slave (Warring Hearts Book 1) Page 3
