He shook his head absently as he took in the refrigerator and stove that didn’t really work anymore. “No, I only drained them.”
“Oh,” Samantha mumbled, not feeling especially comforted by that knowledge. “Where are the bodies?” she asked, praying that he hadn’t shoved them beneath her bed as trophies.
“Buried in the woods,” he said, stepping past her to run his fingers over the temperamental gas stove that needed to be replaced.
“Oh, okay then,” she said, shifting nervously as she watched him study the cracked honey bear cookie jar. She watched him for a minute, noting that he was enthralled with that old cookie jar that her grandmother used to fill with prune cookies and shot a look towards the kitchen door. Maybe she should go for it since he was-
“Do not leave my side, wife,” he said, never taking his eyes away from the cookie jar even when he accidentally broke the bear’s nose off. He grumbled something else and then moved onto the next item, the thin black oven mitts that she was actually pretty sure had once been white.
“As flattered as I am, and I am flattered,” she stressed, deciding that upsetting the monster wouldn’t be a good idea, “I’m going to have to decline,” she said before adding, “But, thank you.”
“It’s not your choice, wife. You’re mine,” he said as he pulled open a drawer. When he pulled out a knife and turned to face her, she stumbled back.
“Come here,” he said, motioning her closer with the knife.
“N-no, thank you. I’m fine where I am,” Samantha mumbled as she backed into the small tea and prune stained kitchen table that was barely big enough for one person never mind two.
As she stood there, careful not to make any sudden moves, she realized that she was going to have to play along if she wanted to make it out of this alive, and she definitely wanted to make it out of this alive. She didn’t know what he was or why he’d been in that wall, and right now, it didn’t matter. If she made it through this, she’d freak out about it later, but for right now, she needed to keep a clear head and that meant playing along. She’d just pretend that it was another psych patient that had forgotten to take his meds and hope that help arrived before he decided that she’d make a tasty snack.
With a growl that didn’t bode well for her, he walked over to her, and just when she thought she’d pushed him too far, he sat down at the table and held the knife out to her, handle first. She took it with a trembling hand quickly before he could change his mind, but once she had the knife in her hand, she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it.
“My hair needs to be trimmed, Wife,” he said, sighing as he gestured to his face.
Samantha looked from the admittedly dull steak knife in her hand that had a touch of rust to his long-tangled beard and hair and frowned. “You want me to cut your hair...with this?” she asked, holding up the item that could barely cut through a boiled hot dog, never mind hair.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Then you’ll help me bathe in the river.”
That surprised a snort of laughter from her. “You’re kidding, right?”
The glare he sent her way was not very comforting, and as afraid as she was of this man, she couldn’t do as he’d asked. First of all, she was pretty sure that he’d kill her after five seconds of trying to saw through that thick, tangled mess matted down with dust and other things. Secondly, there was no way that she was standing in waist-high freezing cold water while scrubbing a monster that may or may not have kept the bodies as trophies but had also decided that they were married. It just wasn’t going to happen.
Clearing her throat, she slowly put the knife down on the table. “I’m not cutting your hair with that.”
When his eyes turned from a rather beautiful emerald to a terrifying red, and he growled menacingly, she decided that it might just be in her best interest to help him out.
“I have a barber kit upstairs that I use for my brother when he’s home and I think you’d probably be more comfortable taking a hot shower than taking a dip in an ice-cold river,” Samantha rushed to explain as she gestured every which way, not really sure what the hell she was doing, but hoping that she’d said or did something that would please him.
“What’s a barber kit?” he asked slowly, as though he were testing the words before asking, “And a shower?”
“A barber kit has scissors and electric trimmers so that I can cut your hair without hurting you,” Samantha said, having absolutely no doubt in her mind at the moment that he really didn’t know what they were. “A shower is a...” she pursed her lips up in thought as she tried to figure out a way to describe it to him. “It’s a large bathing tub where hot water is sprayed down on you so that you can wash without having to sit in dirty water.”
He threw her a skeptical look as he gestured for her to go. That was fine with her. She’d cut his hair, show him how to use the shower, down a bottle of Advil, and while he was doing that, she was going to get the hell out of here before she ended up like that door.
Samantha walked upstairs, forcing herself to keep moving while he followed after her. The idea of having him at her back was not very comforting. A few times she had to force herself to focus on her breathing when she began feeling lightheaded.
Without a word, she walked into the large bathroom at the top of the stairs. When she stepped into the large room decked out with cracked off-white tiles, she realized just how badly she needed to use the bathroom. A quick glance at the cracked bathroom window let her know just how late it was. As she somehow managed to stop herself from doing the “pee-pee” dance, she couldn’t help but wonder how much time had passed since this nightmare began.
“What’s wrong, wife?” the monster asked as he stepped into the room behind her.
“I-I have to use the bathroom,” Samantha said, gesturing helplessly towards the toilet as he glanced around the bathroom.
“Bathroom?” he asked absently in that slow manner of his as he took in every detail of the bathroom from the cracked tiles to the-
The vicious growl that tore through the bathroom when he saw his reflection in the mirror had her stumbling back and slamming her back against the wall in a vain attempt to get away from him. When he grabbed onto the sink to steady himself as he took in the red-eyed monster staring back at him, Samantha found herself opening her mouth to ask him if he was okay, but the vicious growl that accompanied the bathroom sink cracking beneath his hands had her quickly changing her mind.
Perhaps this was the time to leave, Samantha wondered even as she pressed herself more tightly against the wall as those chilling eyes met hers in the mirror. “Bathroom?” he demanded with a terrifying growl that had her weakly gesturing towards the toilet.
“I have to go,” Samantha said softly, watching as he shifted his attention from her to the toilet that was still surrounded by the original black and white tiles that her great-grandfather had laid down when he’d turned this room into a bathroom years ago.
“Bathroom?” he repeated curiously, as he moved closer to the toilet, most likely to inspect it, but since time was a factor here, especially after he’d just scared the hell out of her, she said, “Toilet,” with the hopes that would be enough.
It wasn’t.
“Toilet?” he said, throwing her a questioning look before shifting his attention back to the item in question.
“Yes, I need to use it,” Samantha said, shifting uncomfortably as she waited for him to finish his inspection.
Frowning, he shifted another look towards her as his red eyes slowly shifted back to that emerald color that she was taking as a sign that she was no longer in danger of being torn apart.
At least, not at the moment.
Realizing that she was seconds away from making this terrifying experience even more memorable, Samantha slowly moved closer, trying not to startle him as she licked her lips, searching for the right words to explain the problem, but thankfully he seemed to understand the problem given that she was now doing the damn �
�pee-pee” dance.
With a nod of understanding, he gestured for her to go ahead as he stepped back and…waited.
“Any chance that I can get a little privacy?” she asked, not really sure that she could do this.
When he shook his head once, she decided that she’d hold it. That decision was quickly overturned when he shifted his attention to the broken sink and started playing with the faucet, turning it on in the process. As he leaned down so that he could watch with utter fascination as water poured out of the faucet, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the sound of water pouring down the drain.
For the first thirty seconds, she was able to block it out, but then he started to play with the faucets again, changing the flow down to a trickle, effectively breaking her. In seconds, she was across the room, shoving her oversized pajama pants down along with her granny panties, sat down, hunched over, and tried not to think about the man currently enthralled with the soap dispenser as she relieved her bladder.
Once she was done, she quickly wiped herself, careful not to give him a show, not that he would have noticed since his attention was now fixed on her nail clippers. It took a few more minutes before she managed to pull her pants up. Once she was done, she stood up, flushed the toilet, and-
Tripped over her own feet in a desperate attempt to get out of his way as the sounds of the toilet flushing drew his interest. Wondering if this was the best time to slip out the door and try getting her cellphone to call for help, she started edging her way to the door only to forget how to breathe and, apparently, how to keep her mouth shut.
“Oh, my god,” she whispered in horrified fascination, not sure what terrified her more, the fact that his urine was red or that his penis was the size of a-
“Wife,” he snarled in warning, but she didn’t miss the stunned expression on his face when he’d pulled himself out.
Forcing her mind away from all the things that she really didn’t want to think about at the moment, she quickly washed her hands, aware that he was watching her every move. Once she was done, she grabbed the scissors and trimmers out of the bag she kept under the sink. Taking a deep breath, she gestured for him to sit on the small wooden chair her grandmother had kept by the bathtub. He threw her an assessing gaze before he grabbed the chair and moved it to the middle of the bathroom and sat down. She placed the scissors down and plugged in the trimmers well aware that his curious eyes followed her every move.
Willing her hands not to shake, she grabbed the scissors and moved closer. “Be careful with those things, wife,” he said softly, but she didn’t miss the warning.
Her hands shook harder and she had to pull them back before she did something stupid like cut him and enrage the monster. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he would kill her. She hadn’t missed the way he’d said “wife” like it disgusted him. He was using her, but she wasn’t sure why yet.
Wanting nothing more than to get this over with so that she could make her escape, she tentatively picked up one of the grubby long locks of hair and tried not to cringe as she cut it. It occurred to her then that she hadn’t asked him how long he wanted it. Her only hope was that he liked it really short on the sides and a bit longer on top. It’s how Nathan liked his hair, and admittedly, it was the only way she knew how to cut hair.
For the next hour and a half, Samantha worked slowly as she did her best to detangle some of the mess by hand so that she could cut it without making a bigger mess. When it was time for the trimmers, she was very careful since the sound of the trimmers buzzing seemed to startle him. He didn’t say anything, but she noted the anxious looks he kept sending her. The few times she had to put them down, he’d picked them up and studied them like everything else he’d come across. When he accidentally turned the shears on, he dropped it like was going to bite him and tensed up when she reached for it.
Pretty soon, it became obvious that she wouldn’t be able to shave his face or finish cutting his hair until after his shower, not that she planned on being around for that, but he didn’t need to know that. Doing her best not to appear anxious, Samantha put the trimmers down and turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature to what she thought he’d like and what she hoped would help cut through the grime in his hair.
“I can’t do anything else until after you’ve cleaned up,” Samantha said, gesturing towards the shower and praying that he’d missed that hopeful glace she’d shot the closed bathroom door.
He slowly stood up and peered into the shower. After a minute of running his eyes over everything inside, he grabbed hold of the threadbare shirt that he wore and yanked it over his head. Her brows shot up when she heard the fabric rip with the movement. She ran her eyes over his torso and noted a few strips of tan skin peeking through, but the rest was a dark gray. When he dropped what was left of his pants, she forced her eyes to the wall.
“Well, I’ll just leave you to it then,” she said, moving towards the door as she tried to figure out what the best course of action for escaping was.
Through her window?
The door?
Or maybe she should go call the police and wait to be rescued?
His words stopped her before she made it to the door. “Take your clothes off, Wife.”
Chapter 5
“I…” she trailed off as she wrung her hands together and looked around the large room as though she was looking for answers that wouldn’t save her.
“Take your clothes off, Wife,” Trace said firmly, as he waited for his order to be obeyed.
She opened her mouth and made a choking sound as her eyes widened and-
She crumbled to the floor.
Again.
For a moment, Trace simply stood there, staring down at the woman that he’d claimed for his own and couldn’t help but frown. She was weak, Trace thought with disgust as he shoved the remains of his clothes off before he focused his attention on the woman that should by all rights be dead. How she’d survived this long without a man in her life, he would never know because clearly, she needed a man to take her in hand.
With that in mind, he picked her up and carried her the short distance to the “shower” and placed her inside, uncaring that she was still clothed. When she came awake sputtering, he simply ignored her and stepped inside, giving her no choice but to back up. Once he was inside the shower, he closed his eyes and let the hot water hit him, groaning as the heat seeped into his newly formed muscles.
During his time in that tomb, he’d dreamed about a lot of things, but never once had he dreamed of something like this. He was content to stand there forever, but the small woman that he’d decided to keep apparently had other ideas. Not bothering to open his eyes, he said, “Soap.”
The small woman currently trying to quietly make her escape stopped mid-crawl behind him. For a long moment, she didn’t do anything and neither did he as he listened to the frantic beat of her heart as the scent that he was quickly identifying as fear rolled off her. He waited to see what she would do, deciding to give her a chance to do something foolish so that he could clear up any misunderstandings that she might have so that they could quickly come to an understanding.
When she cleared her throat a bit awkwardly and stood up behind him, he was almost disappointed. Then again, what else should he have expected from her? She was weak, but at least she knew it.
“Here,” she whispered as he felt something hard pressed into his hand.
“What’s this?” he asked, opening his eyes to stare down at the small green square in his hand.
“Soap,” she said, making him frown as he raised the square to his nose and drew in its scent.
“There’s a toothbrush and toothpaste to your left that you can use as well as the shampoo and conditioner,” she said as he handed her back the soap so that he could inspect the items lining the small shelf.
He picked up the small brush and started to examine it only to have it plucked from his hand. He watched as the small woman trying to look
anywhere but at him grabbed a small tube and squeezed a blue substance on the bristles before handing it back to him. When he only frowned down at the brush, she sighed heavily, took it back from him and said, “Open up.”
When he hesitated, she opened her mouth, bared her teeth and made a brushing motion with the brush before gesturing back to him. “It will help with the copper morning breath you’ve got going on,” she said, before groaning and muttering to herself, “Don’t poke the bear.”
Curious, Trace took it from her, raised it to his teeth and slowly copied her movements. Nodding approvingly, she said, “See? Easy, right? So, it looks like you’re good here at the moment. Why don’t I go see about getting us some fresh towels?”
When she moved to leave, he said, “Soap.”
Shoulders sagging, she picked up the green bar back from the small ledge where she’d placed it and held it out to him with a hopeful smile that he ignored.
“Scrub,” he said around the small mint-flavored brush, giving her his back as he continued awkwardly brushing his teeth and savoring the crisp flavor.
“Umm, wouldn’t you like some privacy?” she asked after a slight hesitation.
“No.”
There was a small sigh, and then, “That’s what I thought.”
*-*-*-*
No sudden movements, Samantha chanted to herself as she added more conditioner than was probably necessary to the mess that she’d created on top of his head as she did her best not to think about the fact that he was capable of tearing grown men apart with his bare hands. When the reminder made it difficult for her to take her next breath, she decided to think of something else.
As she carefully ran her fingers through the tangled mess, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to end up looking like once she finished scrubbing all this grime off. Thanks to the forty-five minutes that she’d spent scrubbing his back, arms, and legs, she knew that his body was flawless. There wasn’t a single scar, tattoo, bruise, scrape, or anything that would clue her into his past. However, the fact that he hadn’t made her wash his man bits and ass gave her hope that he wasn’t going to be expecting any husbandly benefits from this terrifying situation.
Tall, Dark & Furious (A Pyte/Sentinel Novel Book 6) Page 5
