by Ashley Logan
"Crocodiles?" he asked, unable to hide the amusement that twinkled in his eyes.
"Yes. You are in danger," I informed him. "Right now they look at me, but you are a bigger snack. They will come for you."
Chewing the side of his cheek as it threatened to pull up in a smile, he raised his arms and grabbed the nearest pipes, using incredible strength to pull his body up and flatten himself against them. It was extremely impressive and I could not stop staring until he spoke.
Blinking, I returned my eyes to his face.
"Where is your boat?" he repeated in a friendly voice as he locked in his feet as I had.
"It is the bed," I replied, wondering if I was daydreaming again, or if he actually was playing with me. "You must keep your legs up as you swing, and stay high when the crocodiles jump. They jump all the time and you have to wait until they are swimming again. As soon as they see your legs, they will jump, so there is not a lot of time. Their teeth are very sharp. Even if they do not pull you in, you will bleed and be too weak to hold on. You will not live long without legs, and it will not be nice to fall into the water with them. You understand?"
"Very well," he said with a smile. "You paint quite a picture."
I began to feel warm under his strange gaze and my hands were beginning to slip.
Wiping them one at a time, I re-newed my grips and looked to the bed.
"I will go first and show you how. This is your first time in the jungle and you will not want to die."
"Thank you for considering such a thing," he replied with a chuckle. "Perhaps you could show me more quickly. I'm not so light as you and my arms are tired today. I don't want my legs to be bitten off."
Smiling, I looked to the imaginary crocodiles below and waited for them to be swimming, then quickly lowering my legs, I swung into my next position and locked my feet in.
"Now you," I said, nodding at him.
He completed his move swiftly and gracefully, locking himself in against the ceiling pipes again.
"It's a good thing these vines are strong enough to hold us," he admitted, studying the rusted section he now clung to.
"Yes. And that the river is not so wide that we cannot reach our boat before long," I added, moving again.
"It is convenient that the vines also grow in such a way that they lead directly to our boat," he commented as he came into position next to me.
"Yes. It was a good place to park the boat," I agreed, preparing to move again. I was close enough to the bed, so I timed it right between crocodiles and swung to safety, using the pipes above the bed to turn around before dropping to the mattress.
"I did not know that monkeys could drive boats," he said with a quiet laugh.
"I am a clever monkey. You will have to be more careful, because you are bigger. You must be right over the boat before you can let go, so you will have to bend knees all the way up, or hold your feet higher than I did when you swing. Yes?"
"Okay."
Looking to the floor, he prepared to swing, taking at least some time to check for crocodiles, which made me smile.
"They are hungry for you," I said as he began to swing.
"Huh?" he asked, almost slipping as he tried to look both at me and where his hand needed to be.
"Careful!" I cried, reaching out to help reel him in by the shirt. "They will eat you alive and not even spit out your teeth!"
I did not account for his weight as I pulled and he swung right into me. He knocked me off my feet as he found his, but caught me just before we crashed into the wall. His arm bore the brunt of the impact and I was only pinned lightly to the wall by his hard body. I didn't think the gasp was mine until I realized his lips hadn't moved.
"Shit. Are you okay?" he asked, searching my face. "I think maybe my vine snapped," he added with a grin.
A dazzling grin.
Breathing hard, I tore my eyes from his and stared at his chest as a whole other set of feelings tried to twist the scenario in my head.
I had the strongest urge to wrap my legs around him and when I'd been looking into his eyes, I'd felt the distinct desire for him to kiss me. I was letting my daydreams get the better of me again.
"Natascha?"
I looked up at my name. Nodded. Licked my lips.
He tensed. His own chest began rising and falling more quickly. I noticed this, because it was still pressed against mine and it felt good. Too good.
He must have disagreed, because instead of pulling my mouth to his, he released me as if I'd turned to fire and burned his hands.
"Sorry," he said before leaping off the bed. His hands curled into fists and it seemed I had somehow enraged him once again as his body tensed up and he shut himself in the bathroom once again. It was the only space in the cabin that held a little respite.
Slowly sliding down the wall to rest in a heap on the bed, I was left to wonder if any of it had really happened at all.
THOUGH HE ACTED AS if he was not still angry when he re-emerged, it was obvious. He had not unwound at all and the storm inside him only intensified as he transformed into Pachenko and left.
The cabin felt lighter after his departure, but it was little comfort. I suspected his dark mood would only return to the space as soon as he did.
Wondering what I could do to improve the situation, I cleaned the bathroom and the cabin. I did my washing in the bathroom to keep him from being questioned about washing his slave's clothes in the ship's laundry. Unpacking and repacking my suitcase, I ate the portion of food I'd decided was lunch and sighed.
I wrote in my notebook, showered, and even changed my clothes perhaps eight times. I pretended the floor was covered in snakes and swung around the room from the pipes. Singing to provide ambiance, I danced away the hours.
I made sure to shut the bathroom door before I started - not that I'd have considered myself happy, but Nikolai had warned me never to let them hear me sound happy. Sounding happy and being happy were two very different things, but I imagined one could be mistaken for the other if overheard. And it wasn't that I was unhappy to be safe, just that I could definitely have felt happier.
Dancing until my emotions didn't feel so loud, I exhausted myself for the day and changed into what had now become my sleeping shirt.
I didn't normally wear clothes to bed back home, but nudity wasn't really appropriate in my current situation. I lay in bed waiting for his return to signal the end of another day. After waiting for what must have been hours, I became even more convinced that Nikolai was avoiding me. He was waiting for me to fall asleep so he could sneak in unnoticed.
I'd upset him with my watching and my fantasizing.
Rolling over, I made sure there would be enough room for him on the bed when he returned, but I was careful not to give him so much that he'd escape my notice when he lay down. Satisfied that I'd done all I could do, I let myself sleep.
I woke naturally, but there was no sign of him. I wondered if he had reverted to sleeping in the chair and that I had slept so soundly I had not even heard it creak.
Frowning, I sat up and looked around the room. I turned the light on full. It felt like daytime to my body, but I had no way of being sure.
Checking the desk, where Pachenko always lined up my food for the day, I saw only yesterday's empty water bottle. My stomach rumbled and I felt ready to eat. Climbing out of bed, I checked the door.
Still locked.
A deep unease settled over me as I checked the bathroom. Pachenko had not returned.
Pachenko always returned.
Alarm bells rang in my head as I sat back on the bed. What did it mean if he did not come back?
Was he dead?
My pulse kicked up a notch. He couldn't be dead. If he was dead, then I was alone. I might be taken by someone else. Or left to starve in this windowless box.
I shook my head. He could not be dead. I could not even think it.
He was punishing me. That was more likely. He was far too big and powerful to die. Dying did
n't suit him, but punishment? That made much more sense. He was punishing me for making him angry - teaching me a lesson.
I was dependent on him for everything and he was making sure I understood.
Growling, I knocked the empty water bottle off the desk.
I understood perfectly.
I'd been tricked into giving him my name; letting him see my true self. Now he could use it to manipulate me, and Saskia would never be able to save me.
Too angry to cry, I went for a shower and got dressed as always. I sang angry. I danced angry. And when the door finally opened, I ran angry.
He caught me around the middle and swung me around as I lashed out at him. The door slammed shut when we fell against it, and he fought to lock it before trying to subdue me.
"Stop!"
I wouldn't. I thrashed at him wildly, hoping I would make a dent in his armor-plated skin.
"Natascha! Stop!"
"You don't call me that! I hate you!"
I elbowed him where his shoulder met is neck; in the muscle I knew was sore.
He swore and spun me around, taking me to the ground and pinning me beneath him.
"Just stop," he urged, breathing hard against my ear as he pressed my face into the cold floor. He smelled of vodka, and metal; and man.
I tried to wriggle beneath him, but barely budged. It was hopeless. Closing my eyes, I stopped resisting.
"Thank you," he said, sounding relieved.
Still panting, he eased some of his weight off me.
"I want to let you up, but I think you're going to try and gouge my eyes out. Why are you hating me?"
"You know why! You left me. You left me to think I would die without you! You stole Saskia from me and now you play with me knowing she will not protect me. I hate you."
"Natasch-"
"No!" I yelled. "No Natascha!"
"Fine. I'm sorry I left you. I couldn't get back before now and I'm sorry. I am not playing with you."
Pulling himself off me, he backed up.
"See? If I wanted to hurt you, I would. I'm not hurting you, Na-" He cut himself off. "I'm not hurting you."
Pulling myself to the wall, I huddled into it and squeezed my eyes shut.
"You are hurting me. And I do not believe you. You are full of vodka so you were not busy! You were angry and avoiding me."
He sighed and I could tell that he was crouching nearby, but I wouldn't look at him.
"At first, I was avoiding you. Yes," he admitted. "But I wasn't angry at you." Groaning softly, he sighed again. "And I was busy, but I got back as soon as I could. I'm sorry. Will you open your eyes?"
I opened one and was glad when I did not see his face in front of me. When I opened both, I was not happy at all. Squirming to get away from myself, I yanked at my bloodied clothes.
"You have hurt me!"
"No." His tone was non-negotiable and I looked up to find him standing again. Sighing, he took off his jacket and hung it over the chair. His own shirt was covered in blood.
"That is yours?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"Not all of it," he replied, removing his shirt and lifting his tank top to reveal a gash on his side. "I've pulled a few stitches though. That's what's on you, sorry."
Removing his tank top completely, he viewed the gash again as it dribbled blood. Pressing his top to his side, he went to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
"You can have it first if you'd like," he said gesturing to the bathroom as he reappeared.
Looking at my own shirt, the amount of blood on it seemed insignificant compared to his.
"No. You go. Stop bleeding. I will clean up after."
Using the wall to help me stand, I peeled off my shirt and went to my suitcase. I looked up when he did not move. "You going?"
He cleared his throat. "Yes."
"Okay." Pulling on a different shirt, I hugged myself as I shivered. "You have any vodka left?"
"Yes."
"May I have?"
He nodded and retreated into the bathroom.
Digging into his breast pocket, I pulled out his flask and drank. It was full, and though I felt very thirsty for it, I did not drink it all. He would want some, I thought.
I looked up when he opened the bathroom door.
"I am sorry I hurt you," I said quickly, before he could say anything.
"I'm fine." Holding his jeans bundled at his hip, he stood in only a towel. His legs were exposed from above the knees, and while they were indeed very nice legs, I could not keep from staring at the stars tattooed on his knees.
I had heard what that meant from Maria at the club. This man was a Russian criminal who knelt for no-one.
"I am thinking now, that I was wrong. I am thinking that you were quite busy. And I think that whoever cut you did not want to die."
His face remained neutral as he took a deep breath.
"What difference does it make if he had wanted to? It was still a mercy. There are many who are glad he is gone. You might be glad too. He was very bad."
"Is it easier to kill very bad people?"
"Easier. Yes," he admitted softly before his shoulders sagged a little. "But not easy. Go and wash. You have blood on your arm."
Shifting past me, he pressed his jeans into his side as he reached for his duffel bag.
"You should not stretch it. It will only bleed more."
"I know. That's why I'm holding it," he said irritably.
"You could ask me to get your bag."
"You're not my slave Na-" Growling, he kicked his bag before retrieving it. "Please give me some space."
I nodded. "Yes Pachenko. You do not like me here after you kill people. Nikolai does not like to kill."
"You can't call me that! Especially if I can't call you Natascha. If you break the rules, I'll break the rules."
"There are no rules anymore. Only the two of us. We were four, but now we are two. We are who we are to each other. There is no pretending now."
Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door and turned on the shower. I stood under it until it ran cold and then I stood under it a while longer. The cold water stung my skin a little and it felt good.
I got out when I started shivering. Wrapping myself in a towel, I paced about the bathroom. Procrastinating.
I brushed my teeth and combed my hair. I decided that I would ration my moisturizer because I didn't want it to run out. It had become something from my old life that I now clung to in order to feel normal.
When my hair was almost dry, I braided it and wrapped my towel firmly around me. Opening the bathroom door a crack, I tried to learn what mood the man on the other side might be in.
Seeing only a pair of large, bare feet on the end of the bed, I inched further into the room.
He was asleep.
Earphones still in and pumping at volume, he lay in his jeans, clasping the silver flask to his bare chest as it rose and fell in a deep and regular rhythm.
Relaxing, I tip-toed around the bed. His damaged side was covered with a white dressing which had not come from the cabin, and when I looked around, I saw a pile of food and water stacked in the far corner of the desk.
Remembering how hungry I was, I grabbed a bread roll and chewed as I turned back to the bed.
My suitcase was still on the bed next to him, and I wondered if I could get to my sleeping shirt without waking him. I regretted packing it away.
At the time, I'd been trying to keep busy, but out of anger, I'd also wanted to diminish my presence in the room to that one suitcase - in the hopes of disappearing altogether maybe. It all seemed stupid now.
Finishing my bread, I drank some water and unwrapped a chocolate bar as quietly as I could. I looked up with a wince at every tiny crinkle of its wrapper, but he slept on.
He must've been exhausted.
I ate my chocolate perched on the edge of the desk to avoid the creaking chair. After some consideration, I decided on how to retrieve my clothes. The options included waking him - caref
ully, so as not to be killed in one punch, or trying to sneak up the side by the wall to fetch my shirt. Swinging in from above seem unnecessarily risky, and the angles would be too difficult to then shift my suitcase from the only comfortable place for me to sleep.
I shivered and longed for the blankets.
Sighing to myself, I went and brushed my teeth again before closing the bathroom door and dimming the cabin lights.
Psyching myself up, I eased onto the end of the bed. He didn't move.
Reaching up for my suitcase, I pulled it slowly and smoothly down the bed, congratulating myself when my roommate remained comatose.
Setting the suitcase on the floor, I got out clean underwear and my soft sleeping shirt before zipping the bag up and moving it out of the way. Dropping my towel, I climbed into my nighttime attire, watching the man on the bed.
I'd been worried for nothing. He was so soundly asleep a bomb could've gone off and he'd never have known.
I successfully snuck back onto the bed and climbing under the blankets, I made myself comfortable. I soon discovered that I was not very tired. Rolling over carefully, I watched Pachenko and listened to the crashing beats coming from his earphones.
Frowning, I wondered how he could even sleep with such loud angry music. I expected he would likely wake angry after listening to that all night. It was loud enough to destroy my chances of a peaceful sleep.
Craning my neck, I tried to locate his iPod, hoping to at least turn it down. I found it further down the bed, slightly under his hip.
Easing it out by the cord to his ear phones, I lowered the volume until I could no longer hear his music, then I eased back onto my pillow and started breathing again.
He stirred a little and I wondered if I had woken him, but he just shifted his weight and re-settled. I watched him a while; contemplated borrowing one of his ear buds to hear the kind of music he liked to listen to, but I didn't risk it.
Rolling back to face the wall, I willed myself to sleep, having already tested the man's leniency enough for one day. I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I jerked awake when his arms ensnared me and pulled me into his body.
