Tamed: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 2)

by Felicity Brandon

  Molly’s hands were shaking hard as she snaked the chain of the leash out from behind the post. It’s like her own palms were trying to reason with her; to make her rethink.

  “Rethink what?” she hissed at no one as her digits fumbled over the chains, pausing momentarily to acknowledge the place she had come to. “So, you’re now talking to yourself?” she muttered darkly. “That’s what you’re doing. Fucking talking to yourself…”

  What the hell was happening to her? This was the first chance she’d had to get away from the man who’d snatched her, and now that the moment had arrived, she was floundering on his bed talking to herself. Shaking her head, she finally freed the chain from the wooden post, scrunching the end of the leash in her hand as she inched back from the bed.

  The bed.

  Her body stilled as memories of all the hot things Connor had done to her there over the last few hours and days filled her mind. Molly flushed as she recalled climax after climax, and then the endless talking. Since the day she’d answered back to him, and been chained to the punishment post, things had changed. Connor had changed. He was softer somehow, and the sentiment in his words seemed real. Sure, he still wanted to keep her, there was no getting past that. He also still wanted to bind her, screw her senseless and keep her naked on all fours at his feet. The problem with that was she wanted all that, too. And she wanted it with him, the sick, psycho guy who had drugged her and taken her from a London street.

  Fuck, she was probably worse than him.

  Molly’s toes grazed the carpet below her, and she shifted back, tiptoeing across the room to his cupboard. Pulling back the door, she scanned the contents of the wardrobe. She would need something to wear if she was going to make another run for it. Seizing the first shirt she could find, she pulled it from the hanger and held it up into the dimming light with her free hand. Moving the fabric toward her face, she breathed in the scent of the material. Connor. The aroma of his spicy cologne wafted past her nose, making her nipples pebble and her pussy clench.

  Connor.

  The man was like a freaking virus she could never get over. How could there be any debate about whether to leave him or not? He had abducted her, held her against her will, exploited her and demeaned her in the most fucking hot ways. There should be nothing to even think about. She should already be out the door.

  She pulled the shirt over her head, untangling it from the leash hanging between her breasts. All the while she ignored the way her clit began to throb as his scent fell over her body. Heading for the door, she tried the handle, but the damn thing wouldn’t open. Lowering it further she pulled harder, yet still the door wouldn’t shift. It was then that Molly realized what the problem was. The fucker had bolted it from the outside. Molly stamped her foot hard against the green carpet as anger spiked inside her.

  Fuck. Why would he lock her in? After everything, he still didn’t trust her. And yet as she glanced down at herself, dressed in his shirt, she knew why. It was obvious. They didn’t trust each other. That’s why he locked the door, and why she was planning to bolt. For all of the sentiment, the contrived affection, and the whispered words, there was no trust. How could there ever be? How could you trust a man who wanted to keep you? A man who had actually kept you in a cage? There could be no trust for that.

  “Do you have a guest, Mr. Reilly?”

  The sound of another man’s voice echoed up the staircase, making her limbs freeze.

  “That’s my girlfriend,” answered Connor. “She was asleep, but I guess your unexpected visit woke her also.”

  “Strange you didn’t mention her before?”

  A new male voice reverberated up the stairs, making Molly’s heart pound even faster than before.

  “Strange, why?” Connor replied coolly. “I don’t recall either of you telling me about your marital status.”

  “Do you mind if I use your facilities, Mr. Reilly?” It was the first guy again, but his voice sounded louder this time, as though he was moving closer.

  “Yes, actually,” came the irritated response from Connor. “I do mind. You said you were leaving, and now I’d appreciate it if you did.”

  “Please, sir,” came the reply. “I am quite desperate, and we promise after that we’ll be on our way.”

  Tension mounted in Molly’s body at the sound of the exchange. Pressing her right palm into the bedroom door, she rested her temple against the wood and tried to quell her labored breathing. Who were these guys? Could it be the police? Could they somehow have found out about her? But then, that couldn’t be right. If they were here to rescue her, what have they been doing down there with Connor?

  “Fine. Up the stairs, left and it’s the last door. Make it quick, Detective.”

  Connor’s voice was raised, and she had the feeling he’d done so intentionally, to let her know who was coming. To warn her.

  Warn her. The thought was ridiculous. The police were the good guys in this story, weren’t they? They were the ones here to save her. She should be shouting for their help right now, screaming to be found. So, why wasn’t she? The gag was gone. Why wasn’t she calling out for help?

  The heavy sound of footsteps on the stairs stole her attention. She was practically panting now as the conflicting sensations whipped around her body. She wanted to get away, right? That’s why she had come to the door in the first place. So, why hesitate when it mattered? The footfall got louder, the stranger passing right by the other side of the door on his way to the bathroom. She heard the door close, and she imagined him in the small room where Connor had bathed and shaved her. Would anything there rouse his suspicions? Connor had told him he had a girlfriend, so finding women’s toiletries wouldn’t necessarily be unusual.

  Time crawled by, slower than it had ever been, and all the while the only thing Molly could hear was the pounding of her own heart. After a while, she heard the door of the bathroom open, and footsteps echoing back down the hall. There was a moment when he paused. He must have been standing right outside the door, only a few inches from where she was standing. Molly was breathing so loudly, she was sure whoever it was must be able to hear her. The tension in her body was palpable, like a living, breathing thing.

  After the longest moment, the footsteps continued, trailing away until she heard the distinctive sound of tread on the staircase again. He probably hadn’t been up there for more than a couple of minutes, but to Molly, it felt like an age. She lowered to a crouch by the door, her palm still flat against the wood as she tried to control her breathing. What had she just done, letting the detective walk away? That might have been her only shot to actually get out of here and return to her normal life. That life slipped further and further away from her with each passing hour.

  “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Reilly.”

  The voice of one of the men downstairs filtered up the steps to her ears.

  “We will be in touch if we have any further questions relating to Miss Walker.”

  “You do that.”

  It was Connor talking now, and even though his tone was calm, somehow it came across as more of a sneer. She wondered if the detective noticed.

  The front door was shoved shut, and she heard the tell-tale signs of the locks being replaced. Molly’s heart sunk at the sound because she knew what they meant. They were the noises of her captivity. The surest sign yet that the one and only decent chance she’d had to truly get out of this house was over. She’d let it slip past her without so much as a yell for help.

  She was officially the worst captive, ever.

  Noises from the hall caught her attention. Connor was taking the steps two at a time by the sounds of it, and instinctively her heart raced again. What would he think when he found her here at the door, instead of on the bed where he left her? She glared at the covers accusingly, as though they were responsible for her latest predicament. For a second, she considered diving for it and replacing the gag. She might just have time to complete that task, but there was no way she
could re-chain herself to the post in time. It was pointless. Connor was about to walk in here and find her crouching by the side of the door.

  She was fucked.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Connor’s mind was reeling as he bounded up the stairs. Why had the police been here? What the fuck had happened to Carson? He was supposed to be deflecting these pricks, as he had done for years now. So, what had changed all of a sudden? Lydia had been a missing case for years. Why come to Connor now?

  He took a breath as he approached the door to his bedroom, gathering his scattered thoughts. There was only one answer to the questions he was posing himself. The police had found something. Some new evidence had arisen which had turned the missing person into a victim. They were onto him. They must be. That was why they’d been here this evening, and no doubt they’d be back, too. With an arrest warrant if he wasn’t careful. He’d have to get on the phone to Carson, and get this straightened out. Right away.

  A small sound from behind the door halted his conclusions, piquing his interest. His kitten. It had to be her, but what was she doing there when he’d left her chained to the bed? Reaching for the bolt, he slid it away quietly, before easing the door open. A small gasp welcomed him, and he glanced down to find Molly wrapped in one of his blue shirts, curled up in a ball at his feet.

  “Kitten?”

  He knew he should be pissed at her for leaving the bed, but right now he was curious. Had she heard the detectives downstairs, and if so, how much of the conversation was she aware of? As her large blue eyes gazed up at him, another thought occurred. If she’d heard the warning about it being the police and she was right here by the door, ungagged, then why hadn’t she called out for their help? The realization was stark, making his lips curl reflexively.

  “I’m sorry, Master.”

  Her words fell out in a rush, evidence of her trepidation now that he’d returned. She knew she’d messed up being caught by the door, and dressed no less! Her eyes told the story. She was scared shitless of what the consequences would be.

  “What are you sorry for, pet?” he asked in a knowing tone.

  Of course, he knew exactly what the problem was, but there was no harm in making her squirm. In fact, he intended to enjoy it.

  She gulped, burying her face into his shin. “I unchained myself without your permission,” she admitted, “and removed my gag and borrowed one of your shirts.”

  Connor reached down for the leather at her neck, pulling her up to her knees. “So, I see,” he replied. “And why would you do that, I wonder? Were you trying to escape?”

  Molly whimpered, her hands instinctively rising to join his at her neck. “No,” she told him. “I wasn’t going to leave, Master. I swear it!”

  He glared down at her, unsure what to believe. “Then what were you doing, kitten? Did you want to talk to the police, too?”

  She was crying now, the tears welling as she shook her head. “No!” she gasped. “I didn’t even know it was the police until I heard you speak to one of them. If I’d wanted to get away, then I would have called out to them. You know that, don’t you?”

  She was right, and he knew it. He’d only just reached the same conclusion himself. One squeak from her would probably have sent the detectives right up to this room. They’d obviously not trusted his story, and would have been more than happy to listen to Molly’s.

  His hand shifted from the collar. “Get that shirt off, and get on the bed,” he ordered.

  She sniffed as she moved to obey. Shrugging off the fabric, she scurried there quickly on her hands and knees until she had climbed up onto the covers. Once there, she remained on all fours, the leash hanging down from her neck, her back arched and her head down. Just as he’d trained her.

  “I know you could have called out, and I’m glad you didn’t.” Connor wandered toward her as he spoke, his fingers trailing over her shaved pussy lips. A small growl escaped his throat as his cock reacted to the act. She was so fucking ravishing. “I’d like to understand why.”

  Molly sighed, but he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or resignation. “I don’t know,” she said at length. “I thought about it, but when push came to shove, I guess I didn’t want to leave.”

  Connor could barely believe his ears. “Finally fallen for my British charm, eh?”

  The quip made her snort, but he permitted it. Right now, he was fixated with stroking her gorgeous body, and anyway, he wanted to hear her answer.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she conceded. “I shouldn’t want to stay with you. I mean, you took me, and you’ve done all sorts of fucked up things to me since. I…”

  Her words trailed away, concluding with a low sob.

  “I can’t explain it either,” he told her. “Except to say that you have thoroughly enjoyed your denigration at my hands, kitten. Perhaps you just don’t want to go. You can’t face life without me?”

  He was half jesting, yet enthralled at the same time. His pet’s choices were entirely irrational, and they both knew it. He did want to understand what made her keep quiet. In his experience, only fear and love made people do stupid things. Was it possible that she was developing affection for him, and that was why she’d stayed?

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  The question was barely a whisper, but the resonance of her voice made his fingers pause. He climbed down onto the bed beside her, pulling Molly’s back into his groin as he wrapped his arms around her body.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he soothed into her right ear. “And there’s nothing wrong with me, either. We’re just different from other people. We need different things.”

  He knew that was a lie. For him at least. He was majorly messed up, but the words seemed to quiet her for a moment, and he felt her body relax against him.

  “What’s going to happen, Master?”

  Her voice was thick with emotion, and just the sound of it pained him. It was one thing if he caused her pain, but if it was thrust upon her from another direction, it irritated him. He felt impotent for the first time in years, and he despised it.

  “You don’t need to worry about what happens,” he cooed. “Let me deal with that.”

  “But, we can’t continue like this, can we?” she breathed. “I mean, my family and friends will be looking for me. I can’t just stay here.”

  Connor had been expecting this. It was only a matter of time until the outside world came knocking, and today seemed to be the day for external intrusions.

  “You should watch your tone, little kitten,” he reminded her. “Remember, there’s still the matter of your punishment for earlier. You are not at liberty to remove your own chains and gags.”

  Tension swept through her body. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” he answered, “but apologies won’t save you.”

  Silence fell over them. He swore he could hear her thinking, no doubt contemplating all the things he had snatched her away from. The thought perturbed him. In all the time he’d planned her abduction, he’d never given a moment to consider the life she’d had before the signing. Did she have a boyfriend? Children? He could only assume she would have mentioned them, but maybe not. He still knew virtually nothing about his pet at all.

  “Master?” she stirred beside him, her pert little behind snuggling into his groin.

  “Hmmm,” he replied, trying to ignore the throb of his cock.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He inhaled at the question, wondering what on earth was coming next. He could gag her again, of course, but somehow, he had a feeling this query was coming some time regardless. “Okay, kitten,” he sighed. “You can have one question.”

  She hesitated for what felt like an age, until finally the question which had been burning on her lips escaped. “Master,” she began. “Who is Miss Walker?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  She had no idea why it meant so much to her, but she wanted to know. Why would those detectives be
here asking about a random woman? She must mean something to him. And all of a sudden, that meant something to her.

  “Where did you hear that name?” he murmured as the arm at her waist tightened.

  “One of the detectives mentioned her to you,” she began anxiously. “Said they’d be in touch if there were any more questions?”

  “You don’t miss a trick, do you?” His tone had darkened, and a spike of fear rushed through her body.

  “I…” she started. “No, I guess not.”

  He laughed, the sound hearty rather than foreboding, but still Molly remained on high alert. There was always an undertone with Connor, and he had just promised her another punishment.

  “Lydia was my girlfriend once.” Connor’s tone was quiet as he explained. “We lived together here for a while, before the relationship ended.”

  “Oh.”

  Even to her own ears, her voice sounded resentful.

  “Why do I not think that’s the last question you have on the subject?” He chuckled behind her.

  She inhaled, glad suddenly that she didn’t have to meet his eye. “It’s none of my business.”

  The arm wrapped under her naked body slid across her chest, teasing her nipples idly as Connor went on. “That’s right,” he told her. “It’s not, but for some fucking reason I actually want to tell you.”

  That startled her, and she twisted back to look at his face. Those green eyes were waiting for her, his lips smiling, lighting his hard features. For a moment their gazes locked, and the smile grew into a grin.

  “Surprised?” he asked, after a moment.

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Molly sensed she needed to be careful. He was flirting with her again, that was for sure, but she didn’t want to be lured by his tender touches and softly-spoken words. At any moment he could morph back into the monster. She couldn’t be fooled again. “Yes, Master,” she responded at length, “but pleased, too. I’d like to know more about you.”