by Alexa Riley
I have no need to call her out of her room. When she hears the door close, she comes on her own. Her face flashes with surprise and then fear when she sees that we have a visitor. The same visitor I tricked her with before.
River smiles at her, juggling an apple between his palms.
"Hello, Isabella."
"You know my name?" she asks.
Her eyes flicker to me, and she bites her lip. She wants him to be someone other than who he really is. A knight come to save her.
She wants to tell him about her monster. How I am keeping her here against her will. About the dirty things I do to her, but not how much she really loves them. The things he has already seen with his own eyes.
"Of course I do," he answers. "My friend Javi here has told me so much about you."
My cheeks heat, and I want to tell her that's a lie. I've told River very little about her. But he is nosy. And this is his way of getting information. I have no doubt he will ask her plenty when I'm gone, while she tries to persuade him to set her free.
"I'm leaving," I announce.
Both of them look at me. River takes a bite of his apple, and Bella's eyes grow wide.
Afraid.
River is watching me carefully as I go to her, but I do not care. I touch her cheek. It has been so long since I've allowed myself to touch her. To feel her. To breathe her in.
I want her. I want her to let me have her.
"You are mine, Bella," I assure her. "Only mine."
It is the right thing to say. Her shoulders relax, and she leans into my touch. It surprises me.
River smirks. I don't care.
"Where are you going?" Bella asks.
"I have some business to take care of."
She doesn't know about Luke. She doesn't know about the trouble he has gone to in order to find her. She also doesn't know that I've been looking for her father myself. And that Luke isn't the only matter I am leaving for today.
"How long will you be gone for?"
Her lip trembles and something wrenches inside of my chest. An urge to comfort her. To tell her it’s okay. But that would be a lie.
She is with me. And it is not okay.
"I will be back soon enough."
"That's what my father always used to say."
She retreats, and I feel the loss of her immediately. My hand is cold when I shove it into my pocket and turn away.
River gives me a nod before I go. One that says everything I need to know.
He will take care of her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IF JAVI HAD A BROTHER, it could be River. They are alike in so many ways. Both lofty and well built. Masculine. Dark. Mysterious. But where Javi is closed off, River is open.
There is something about him that alarms me. The way he smiles. It isn't normal. I don't trust that he's all there in the head. But then again, I don't trust that Javi is either, really.
And yet, I have started to feel safe with Javi. It is the story my father used to tell, becoming my own. I am the caged bird, adapting to my prison.
The guilt and confusion weigh heavy on my soul. I should want to leave. Before it’s too late. It's a long shot. But I have to try.
River is eating another apple. His third since he arrived. He is at ease in Javi’s home. He is at ease around me. I doubt there is anyone that can truly ruffle his feathers.
"What has Javi told you about me?" I ask.
"Very little, actually," he says between bites. "I was just giving him shit."
"So he hasn't told you?"
"Told me what?"
"That he kidnapped me? That he's holding me here against my will?"
River smiles. Unfazed. "Oh, he did tell me that."
I glare at him.
"So that's the kind of man you are? You're just going to let him do this..."
"Do what?" he asks. "You look fine to me."
"I don't want to be here," I bark. "Please, if you have any morals at all... please just let me go."
He is quiet for a moment. I think he might actually be considering it. Until he laughs.
"Do you know where I met Javi?"
"No."
"In the psych ward," he says, twirling a finger around his head. "That should tell you I'm loco, little Bella."
"You met him in the sanitarium?"
Suddenly, I'm less concerned with my escape and more interested in what he has to say.
"After he killed his mother?"
"Yep."
His reply is matter of fact. Unbothered. And I find myself wondering about him too. If he doesn't seem to mind that Javi killed his mother, I can only imagine what he was in there for.
"You know what I think?" River asks.
"What?"
"I think you like him. I think you like the mystery of him. The dangerous man beneath the hood. Have you seen him yet?"
I open my mouth to deny it. But River laughs.
"Spare me. You can lie to yourself, princess. But you were worried about him leaving you here with the big bad wolf because you feel safer with him."
"I just want to leave," I tell him.
"Do you?" he asks. "Do you really?"
"Yes."
"And go back to what? That glamorous life you hated so much? Your pervert manager who couldn't keep his mitts off you?"
"It's not any different than Javi. I've traded one hell for another."
But even as I say the words, they feel like a lie. I hate it. I hate that I am so confused about Javi. I don’t understand why I feel things when he touches me. Why I dream about him sometimes. Or why I lie awake at night in my bed, listening to see if he will come down the hall to my room.
River can see this weakness inside of me. And I’m certain Javi can too.
"I'm going to go read," I mutter.
River reaches for another apple and nods. But when I enter the hallway, his words stop me.
"How do you know?"
I turn and look at him.
"What?"
"How do you know he killed his mother?"
JAVI HAS BEEN GONE for four days. It feels like a year.
It’s strange without his presence here.I'm on edge, and I don't really know why. I'm lonely and bored and the last four days have left me wordless and anxious.
River doesn't bother me.
He lounges around the house all day, eating apples and listening to music. Today I catch him looking at some of Javi's drawings. Drawings that I have only recently discovered myself. They have the same precision as the ones he used to send me.
I sit down across from River and watch him as he studies the charcoal sketches.
"What do you think they mean?"
River rolls his eyes. Laughs.
"Why does everything have to mean something? Maybe he just likes to draw."
I don't reply.
He's a smart ass. And I don't know why I even thought to bother with him at all.
I stand up. But he stops me again.
"They're tattoos."
"Tattoos?"
River pulls up his sleeve and shows off his own ink. Raises his eyebrows at me like I'm a half-wit.
"I know what tattoos are."
"Congratulations," he replies.
"You're an asshole."
"Never said I wasn't."
We fall silent. Staring at each other. I want to ask him when Javi is going to be back. It's taking too long. And I don't know why it matters, but it just does.
"He draws them," River tells me. "I ink them."
"He has tattoos?"
"You really haven't seen him," he says. "Have you?"
I shake my head. He smiles.
"Won't be long now."
I glare, and he makes a gesture with his hand.
"You can run along now. I'm bored of you."
And so continues the next three days.
River doesn't look at me. Whatever concerns I had in the beginning are long gone now. I know now that he either respects or fears Javi too much
to do anything to me.
We are like ghosts in the house, living together, but not really speaking. Until the seventh day. When even he is on edge, and he comes to the conservatory and finds me reading. He walks around the room, taking in the roses and the books while eating his apple.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
"I have to go out for a little bit."
"What?"
"I have to leave for a while."
At first, I think he's joking. But it becomes obvious that this time he isn't. I'm not really concerned with the why, because this could be it. My chance.
"Okay."
He's quiet again. Thinking again. Watching me while he eats his apple.
"It's been too long."
"What do you mean?"
"He should have been back by now."
I swallow. Tell myself I don't care. It doesn't matter. Javi doesn't mean anything to me. If he's gone, then it means I can be free again. It's what I should be thinking. Instead, something else comes out of my mouth.
"Is he okay?"
River shrugs like it's not a big deal. But he looks concerned. As concerned as a psychopath can be, I suppose.
"Come with me for a minute," he says. "I need to show you something."
I close the book and stand up. He walks down the hallway, and I follow. He pauses at the door to Javi's master suite and gestures to a piece of paper on the bedside table. I move to inspect it, only to realize it was a trick when River shuts the door behind me and engages the lock.
"What the hell?"
I pound on the door.
"Let me out."
"Sorry, princess. No can do. Gotta make sure you don't cause any mischief while I'm gone."
"I won't," I lie. "Please don't leave me locked in here."
"You have everything you need in there. I'll be back soon."
"But what if you're not?" I ask. "What if something happens and you can't come back?"
Silence is the only response I get. Because he's gone. And when I turn around, I'm not any more relieved to see that he was right. He has, in fact, stocked the room with everything I could need.
For what looks like a year.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IT'S BEEN THREE DAYS.
Three long, never-ending days.
While River supplied me with food and books, he didn't supply me with my journal. So I have my thoughts, but nothing to write them down with.
I sing the new lyrics on repeat so that I can remember. I take baths. I eat the food he left in here for me. I attempt to read. But my mind is elsewhere. Scattered. Wondering what's happening.
Where is Javi? What is he doing?
I don't have to wonder long. On the fourth day, River returns. I want to slap him when he opens the door. But the expression on his face is grim.
"What is it?" I ask.
My stomach flips, and I'm afraid to hear whatever it is he has to say. He gestures for me to follow him. Something that didn't bode well for me before, but this time, I trust his intentions aren't trickery.
I shuffle along beside him to keep up with his long strides.
"How are you with blood?" he asks.
I stop. He turns around and sighs.
"He's been hurt."
His words urge me forward again, and we are walking in tandem now. He leads me to the conservatory. The same bed where Javi first held me captive is where he now rests, motionless. It isn't until I am close that I see him.
And I gasp.
"What happened?"
His clothes are shredded. Covered in blood and gravel.
But it's his face.
His face that is no longer hidden beneath the hood. He looks like he's sleeping. But his face is battered and swollen. He's been beaten.
Repeatedly.
"Motorcycle accident," River tells me.
I turn to him and glare.
"Don't lie to me."
"What does it matter?" River barks. "Can you help him or not?"
I hesitate. Unsure of myself.
"He should be in a hospital."
Now River really does look at me like I'm stupid.
"He can't be in a hospital, Bella. He can't ever go back to a place like that. I had to drug him just to get him back here."
Relief swells inside of me- if only briefly. He's drugged, not knocked out. That is something, I guess.
But the level of his injuries is not something I should be dealing with. He could have a concussion. He could have broken bones. There could be internal bleeding. There could be a whole host of things that I can't fix. But when I look at Javi, I know River is right.
He can't go to a hospital. He won't. Not after his mother. Not after the sanitarium.
"I'll do my best," I whisper.
River nods and gestures to the chair beside the bed. It’s stacked with first aid supplies.
"I don't like to watch," he says. "Be careful of him when he wakes up. He won't be pleasant."
"You're leaving?"
"I'll just be in the kitchen.”
I nod because I guess it's better this way. I don't need him here, questioning me. Watching my every move and second guessing me when I'll be doing enough of that myself.
He moves to go. And then pauses.
"Bella?"
"Yes?"
"Hurt him, and I'll kill you."
I’M NEVER SUPPOSED to see him. He would never allow me to see him.
But right now, he is powerless. And it feels wrong, as I cut away his clothing, knowing he would not like this. But it also feels right.
I am at war with my own thoughts.
Part of me feels guilty for wanting this. For finally feeding the monster inside of me who craves this. The one who has wondered for so long what that dark figure looks like when he doesn’t have a shadow to hide behind. What this killer is hiding beneath the hoods he wears.
My mind has conjured up so many different things. But my imagination never could have prepared me for the reality.
He is massive. Imposing, even in a dead sleep. And he is completely naked now except for the black jocks stretched across his hips.
His body is a mural of muscle and ink. Muscles that have been well built and well-utilized stretch over the canvas of his frame. An array of colorful ink kisses almost every visible inch of his arms and chest. He is beautiful and utterly terrifying.
I knew this all along. But confronting it in such a visually violent way is a horse of a different color.
I finally have the chance to study his face. The long, jagged scar that cuts across his forehead and all the way down to his cheek. My fingers hover over that scar. Wanting to touch. Wanting to heal.
I’ve always known his scars existed, but the extent of them is shocking. There are so many. Angry and red. Deep and thick. Some are small and round, others stretched and jagged. They litter his chest and abdomen, biceps and even his neck. But the most notable is the scar intersecting the crest of his dark eyebrow.
It makes him look like a warrior. And he is. Javi has been through so much. There is no denying it now. He was only a child when he was marked by these horrors.
My father never spoke of Javi’s scars. There was only one time when I caught him watching the news of the events that unfolded that night. He said that it was the perfect storm of circumstances.
Those words have haunted me for so long. They have instilled within me so many questions. Doubts about the things I read in Javi’s file. And perhaps justification for my baffling response to him.
My father knew Javi was dangerous, but he trusted him. He never came to harm while in his presence.
The few times my father did speak of Javi, it was with reverence. My dad was the smartest man I ever knew. And yet, he would say that Javi’s mind was the most incredible thing he’d ever beheld.
At this particular moment, faced with the beast himself, I would have to disagree.
It is his body.
Though scarred and hardened, he is a work o
f art. One so twisted, Poe could write infinite sonnets about the darkness he carries around with him. A beautiful monster.
I can’t look away from him. And I have never stared at anyone this way. He is bloodied and battered, and utterly gory. And still, he is the most captivating sight I have ever beheld.
I need to get a grip. I need to help him. Fix him. But I don't even know where to begin.
There is gravel lodged deep into the skin of his knees. His elbows. Fresh cuts litter his body. I take note of them all, categorizing them into order of severity. I decide to start with his face first. While he is still asleep.
I know that River is right. When he wakes up, he won't be happy. So, I need to work fast.
The cut on his cheek is the worst by far, and this is the one I start with. Little by little, I cleanse the blood from his face with a wet cloth. Seeing him in a different light.
He is still rigid. So rough around the edges. His beard is wild, and so is his long dark hair, pulled back into an untidy bun. It's an odd thing. I had no idea his hair was so long.
I wonder when it was last cut. And then I realize, he has nobody to cut it for him. But when I smooth it away from his face, I also realize it doesn’t need to be cut. Not really.
He’s a Neanderthal. But it works for him. For his masculine bone structure. His oversized frame. Even with all of his hardness, there is still something soft about him too. At least like this. When he’s asleep. His face is relaxed. At peace.
His lips soft and full, and his nose strong. His skin is softer than I expected. Naturally olive in complexion. His hair and his beard are dark. But even those are soft.
I drink in his features while I can. Pausing my work every so often just to stare at him. To try to make sense of this beast of a man before me. But he is a puzzle I still haven't figured out.
And there isn't time now.
I feel him beginning to stir. When I go to work on the gravel, drawing it from his skin, he wakes completely. There isn't time to prepare myself for his reaction. It is instinctive.
A wounded predator, cornered.
He launches his hand upright and seizes me by the throat. His breathing is harsh. Labored. And his eyes are vulnerable. So vulnerable. The wildest eyes I have ever seen.
"Javi."
My hand covers his, but I don't struggle with him. I don't resist. He needs reassurance right now. And that's what I intend to give him.
