A knock on the office door interrupted the dark direction of my thoughts. I welcomed it.
“Enter.” As I spoke, I flicked the monitors off. Seeing them go dark sent a pang of loss through me. That swiftly I was missing her.
“You look like hell,” Rolf said. “Maria says you’ve been sleeping in here and you’re not eating.” The man who had stepped in to guide and mentor me when my parents were murdered frowned.
“I’m fine. Maria worries needlessly--about me and about our guest.” Trust a woman to make her point. Maria disapproved of what I was doing so she sent Rolf after me. I supposed there was a certain justice to that.
With a glance at the blank screens of the monitors, he asked, “How is that going?”
I shrugged. “She’s a little more stubborn than I expected but we’re making progress. It won’t be long.”
He hesitated, then said, “You know that I would have preferred you not do this?”
I shrugged. That made no difference to me. “It was necessary. And as I said, it will be over soon.”
Rolf didn’t hide his relief. “Good. Do you want to go over the arrangements for Saturday?”
I knew what he was really asking. Would I be free and clear by then, able to concentrate when the heads of all the branches of the family as well as various other associates gathered at the estate for a long planned meeting?
Among them were older men who, for all that they professed loyalty to me, resented my authority over them. They were joined by sons and grandsons, closer to my own age, some of whom saw what I had achieved and wanted it for themselves. I had no doubts about my ability to control them but I understood his concern all the same.
“Of course,” I said.
It was a relief to concentrate on something other than Grace, a reminder that my life extended far beyond my involvement with her. Yet as Rolf and I discussed the ever-shifting landscape of alliances and ambitions that characterized my kin, I had to stop my thoughts from straying to the cell deep within the ancient foundations of the house that I ruled and to the woman I had caged there.
Chapter Six
I drifted, sleeping fitfully, bound to the dark nature of my thoughts as much as to my prison. The passage of time was marked only by the dimming of the lights in the cell and their brightening again.
At the beginning of what I thought was the fourth day, I was cold…so cold. I’d been fed, in the usual fashion--more porridge--but I couldn’t stay warm.
Abruptly, the heavy thud of metal reverberated down the narrow hallway. Instinctively, I stiffened. It wouldn’t be “Marilyn”. She wouldn’t come again for hours. It had to be him. He’d want the blanket again. I shivered all the more at the thought of giving it up but I still wasn’t willing to challenge him, not that way.
His footsteps sounded against the cement floor, coming steadily closer. He moved without hesitation, certain of what he was doing.
I didn’t look up with the steps halted. I couldn’t but I felt his gaze as I laid huddled on the ledge.
He was silent for several moments--scrutinizing me, I supposed. But finally it began as it always did.
“Come here.”
I got up stiffly. Every bone in my body ached. Slowly, I made my way to the front of the cell.
“Give me the blanket.”
I hesitated but only briefly. My nakedness made me feel painfully vulnerable, which I supposed was the point. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked anywhere but at him.
The questions resumed, their repetition yet another form of torment.
“What is your name?”
“What’s happened to you?”
“Do you know where you are?”
“What do you want?”
To each one, I gave the same answer as I had before.
Finally, he came to the one question that I couldn’t answer.
“Do you have a message for your family?”
Through the long hours of the night, I’d gone over my decision not to ask for their help. If Patrick’s death was ever to have any meaning, that had to start with my freeing myself from the family that had destroyed him. I couldn’t betray my dead cousin, the young man no one else seemed to care anything about. To do so would also be to betray myself.
The family would expect me to beg, just as my captor did. They’d both be disappointed but in the end, the outcome would be the same. They would pay.
So I told myself…over and over. Until, when I was confronted by that question yet again, my answer came without hesitation.
“No.”
I was hardly an expert at reading body language but even I could tell that the hooded man was displeased. His broad shoulders stiffened and his gloved fingers curled inward. For a moment, I held my breath, wondering if he intended to retaliate.
But he did nothing except turn around and walk back down the hall with long, quick strides. He was almost at the door when I cried out suddenly, “Wait!”
He paused and glanced at me over his shoulder.
Before I could think better of it, I demanded, “Why do you keep asking the same questions? Why aren’t you satisfied with my answers?”
Silence rang between us. He said nothing, only stared at me, before jerking the door open and disappearing through it. Leaving me once again alone.
Shivering more with fear than cold, I dragged the mattress onto the floor and sat down with my back to where I thought the cameras were. As much as I wanted to, I could no longer escape the possibility that had occurred to me during the night.
I was being videoed. The thought was cringe-inducing but how better to provide my family with “proof of life” and at the same time increase the pressure on them to pay for my release?
No wonder he wanted me to beg for their help. How long would it be before he got tired of waiting and tried new means to force me to do so?
I couldn’t think about that, not then. I was too shaken already, my body still trembling with the effects of this latest confrontation with my captor.
When my thoughts turned instead toward the dream I’d had the night before, I didn’t resist. Recalling it made me flush but I’d take embarrassment over fear any day.
In the dream, I was naked but instead of being cold, I was warm…so very warm…even hot as though a fire had ignited deep inside me and was spreading to every cell of my body. Rather than being huddled on a narrow concrete ledge, I was in a bed, king-sized with thick, gracefully carved wooden posts. I was on my back, stretched out, my arms shackled above my head, which oddly didn’t disturb me, and my legs spread wide.
A man crouched between them, the contours of his big, powerful body burnished by the glow of the nearby fireplace. I felt his tantalizing breath on my inner thighs, on the lips of my sex, on my clit…
A moan broke from me. My head tossed back and forth as his too-skilled tongue circled with tantalizing thoroughness over and around my clit before suddenly pressing hard against it. Ripples of pleasure coursed through me, rushing me toward a peak of arousal so intense that--
I was on the very verge of orgasm when he raised his head, ice blue eyes glittering in the shadows, and smiled.
Adam.
As the shock of recognition tore through me, the dream dissolved. Flushing from head to toe, my heart pounding, I was left with only the stark reality of what had just happened.
In the most terrifying circumstances of my life, my mind had turned instinctively to the man I knew with absolute certainty could protect me. And who, if I was at all honest with myself, I desired above all others.
I had been so determined to reject Adam’s interest. Now I had to fight a wave of longing as I thought of how much I would give to be with him.
But self-indulgent fantasies weren’t going to save me. Only strength and pride would do that, in the cell and afterward.
I was still telling myself that when the lights suddenly went out. Blackness enveloped me. In an instant, all sense of perspective vanished. I was seized by the sensation of falling. Instinc
tively, I reached out, pushing my palms hard against the floor, to steady myself.
My heart raced, my breath coming in gasps. Even when the lights were dimmed the past two nights, I had still been able to see the contours of the cell. Now I couldn’t see anything. I was effectively blind.
Was this retribution for my daring to defy the hooded man? Or was it one more way--the worst yet--to bend me to his will?
Both, most likely, not that it mattered. I bit my tongue, tasting blood, as I fought the urge to plead, bargain, do anything that I had to in order not to be left like this.
I managed to stay silent but just barely. As my eyes adjusted to the all-encompassing darkness, I realized that it wasn’t quite as complete as I had thought. On the other side of the bars, up near the ceiling, two small red lights gleamed.
The cameras, just as I suspected. They were still on, still watching. Why would they be in the darkness unless…
They must be equipped for night vision. But that would mean my captor had planned for the moment when he would plunge me into darkness. He’d assured that he could still see me even as I could no longer see myself.
He expected me to break but everything he did was having the opposite effect. My resolve was hardening. I would need my strength when I got out, need it for myself and for Patrick. It would grow in the darkness fed by my anger.
Whether the hooded man had intended it or not, we were locked in a battle of wills. The stakes for me were far higher than he could imagine. I was determined not to lose.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pain. White, hot, stabbing behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut but it didn’t help. The sudden glare was torturous.
The lights must be back on. As the realization hit me, I eased my eyes open, squinting against the pain. Slowly, my pupils contracted enough for me to see. I was in the cell, on the floor, where I must have finally fallen asleep.
Summoning all my courage, I dared a glance over my shoulder.
My captor stood on the other side of the bars.
He didn’t tell me to get up but he did ask, “What is your name?”
My throat was so dry that I only just managed to answer.
The questions continued relentlessly as I struggled to reply.
“What’s happened to you?”
“Do you know where you are?”
“What do you want?”
A hysterical laugh broke from me. I knew what was coming next as surely as I knew what my answer would be. Only my determination to resist still held me together. If I surrendered that now, I would shatter.
I expected him to leave when I refused yet again to give him what he wanted but he surprised me. Crouching down, he rolled a water bottle across the floor toward me. I managed to seize it before it went past.
I had the lid off and was drinking when he walked away. A few minutes later, the lights went out again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I floated outside myself, looking down at the naked body of a young woman. Poor thing, huddled on a mattress, her knees pulled up to her chest. Someone should help her.
No, that wasn’t right. She should help herself except that she couldn’t. Not without losing herself.
I couldn’t quite recall why that was. My reason was scattered, my mind too unfocused.
Even so, I thought what a pity.
I dissolved back down into darkness lit by shards of dreams and scattered memories.
I was a child, running across the field beside the family compound in Maine. A shadow loomed across the waving strands of wild grass. I turned and looked toward the house. Grandmother was standing on a balcony, watching me. I ran faster, my small legs pumping, carrying me farther and farther away.
It was night, there was a party. Patrick and I were sitting on the seawall, our feet washed by white-green foam. He was talking.
“The Devil will always come as an angel. Or at least with a really good public relations firm.”
In the moonlight, I saw his young face worn by sadness. “Don’t forget that, Gracie. It’s important.” His gentle smile faded along with the rest of him.
I was dancing in Adam’s arms in the ballroom at the Plaza hotel where I had seen him for the first time. But wait, that had never actually happened, had it? Still, no matter, I was blissfully happy.
But not for long. He, too, faded away although the feel of his arms around me lingered.
I woke to pain behind my eyes again but this time I knew what was coming.
The same questions. The same answers. Another bottle of water rolled across the floor. Hunger gnawed at me but I was only distantly aware of it as I slipped away again.
Darkness broken by another brief interlude of light.
But then, suddenly, a change.
The lights stayed on.
Something rattled against the bars of the cell, an urgent, remorseless sound that wouldn’t stop.
I turned toward the source of it. “Marilyn” was there, holding out a water bottle. In her other hand was a bowl. A blanket hung over her arm.
Blinking, I sat up slowly.
When she didn’t fade away like the hallucination I feared she might be, I tried to move, to get up, to take what she was offering. But my body was too stiff and sore to respond.
After a moment, “Marilyn” re-pocketed the key she had used and entered. Bent down beside me, she put the water bottle to my lips.
I drank, only just managing to take small sips. Even they made my empty stomach cramp. When I had finished half the water, she handed the bowl to me. As I forced myself to eat slowly and steadily, she draped the blanket around my shoulders. When the food was gone and I had finished the rest of the water, I looked up at her.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t answer but she did gesture toward the cell door, still standing open. As I stared at her, hardly daring to believe what she seemed to be suggesting, she made a fluttering motion with her fingers, miming the motion of rain or falling water.
When I still didn’t move, she sighed, the only sound I had heard her make. As I watched in growing disbelief, she went through the motions of someone taking a shower, pretending to remove her clothes, step into a stall, and even rub invisible soap over herself.
A shower! Was that remotely possible? I could be clean again?
Every other consideration vanished instantly. Energy flowed through me. I dragged myself to my feet. A wave of dizziness hit me but I managed to stay upright.
Clutching the blanket, I said, “A shower would be incredible.”
She nodded and took hold of my elbow, steadying me as I stepped outside the cell. As we got closer to the heavy metal door, my heart raced. The thought of that door opening and of passing through it was almost more than I could bear.
But before we reached it, “Marilyn” guided me around what I saw now was only a dividing wall, separating the cell from what lay on the other side. I glimpsed a low wooden bench on top of which someone had laid out fresh clothes and several towels. But all I really cared about at that moment was the tiled stall equipped with a shower head.
“Marilyn” turned the water on, waited a few moments until it warmed up, then gestured for me to get in.
I didn’t hesitate. Dropping the blanket, I stepped into the stall and under the water.
Instant bliss. Reviving warmth. A blessed sense of normalcy at experiencing what I had always before taken for granted and never would again.
The shower stall was equipped with a variety of body washes, shampoos, and conditioners, all high end. I made use of each, not stopping until every inch of my body was scrubbed and my hair was squeaky clean.
The down rush of water cleared my mind at the same time it cleansed my body. As my thoughts became more focused, I had to confront the most obvious question: Why was my captor allowing this?
Was the sudden improvement in my circumstances evidence that in the contest of wills between us, he had blinked first? As much as I wanted to believe that, I didn’t dare to. The harsh tr
uth was that what I was being given so unexpectedly could be taken away just as suddenly. My brief taste of hope might only be a ploy to plunge me into even greater despair.
How much more could I take? Though I clung to my resolve not to beg for help from the family I had to break free of, I had to wonder how much longer I would be able to hold out. Why hadn’t they paid yet? It had been--what--five or more days? What were they waiting for?
Unless…
My captor didn’t want money.
He wanted something else that Grandmother, my father and the others valued more than me.
They’d killed Patrick, although I still didn’t know why. If the stakes were high enough, what was to stop them from sacrificing me as well?
As I turned off the water, “Marilyn” held out a towel. Taking it, I managed a weak smile. She had been kind to me, at least so far as she was able. She didn’t deserve what was about to happen but there was no help for that. Under no circumstances could I go back into that cell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I watched Grace showering, her body glistening under the rush of water, my cock hardened. That had become such a predictable reaction where she was concerned that I almost succeeded in ignoring it.
Never mind that she was thinner, the shape of each rib clearly visible under her skin and her collarbones more prominent. Or that her skin was so pale that it appeared almost translucent. The evidence the hardship she was enduring in no way dampened my desire for her. On the contrary, the need to possess her in every possible way had become an obsession.
As reluctant as I was to admit it, I was at very real risk of losing control of the situation.
She was much stronger than I had expected and so self-contained. I couldn’t help marveling at that even as I wondered how it was possible. She had grown up in a cocoon of wealth and privilege. How had she become the woman she was, a woman who at once enthralled and infuriated me?
The monitors were a link between us far more powerful than any I could have anticipated. Because of them, I hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours in the past few days, consumed as I was with watching her. I knew the range of her emotions from fear, distress, and sorrow to stubborn courage that I couldn’t understand but still grudgingly admired. I knew the rise and fall of her breathing, the sounds she made in her sleep, even how she looked when she was aroused, although I couldn’t fathom what had caused that.
Chosen: Part Two (Allure) Page 4
