by Jesse Joren
"Hush," he soothed. "Rest. You're going to need all your strength."
The will to resist drained away, leaving me limp in his arms. I'd fought as hard as I could, tried to escape in every way I knew how.
Whatever happened was now in his hands.
The instant I inhaled, the world started to slide away. My last glimpse of his glowing gray eyes followed me into an unconsciousness laced with strange dreams.
It seemed like a very long time before I woke up. When I finally did, I realized he had simply told me the truth.
It was a strange road Hex had planned for me, and I needed my strength.
APRIL 26
CHAPTER FIVE
Soft warmth was on my face. The background of ever-present Atlanta city sounds had vanished, replaced by something else.
Are those birds?
My eyes were slow to open, heavy with the stickiness of long sleep. A cotton-dry film coated the inside of my mouth, and I was having trouble placing where I was.
The last thing I recalled came rushing back in disjointed flashes. Dark apartment. Tied to my bed. Stripped. Hex and his black gloves. His brilliant gray eyes.
I'm going to save you, Eva.
Sunlight was streaming onto my face from a widow high over my head. Through it, I could see blue sky and pine trees stirring in a gentle wind.
I was curled on my side, my face against a soft pillow. It seemed like a cabin, but there was a smell of new wood, not the mellow aroma I associated to older houses.
The room was large and bare, a stone fireplace in one corner. The only furniture was whatever I had been sleeping on. There was a vaulted ceiling, a feeling of openness. A steep set of wooden stairs led downward on the opposite side of the room.
Simultaneously two thoughts came to me.
This place is really stripped down.
I'm kinda cold.
Resentment flared. He could have at least kidnapped me wearing more than a T-shirt and panties. I sat up and took a good look at myself.
All of my clothes were gone, and I was naked under a simple white sheet. It had slipped down past my waist, leaving my upper body exposed. My nipples were erect in the cool air.
The cabin wasn't the only thing that was stripped down. Hurriedly I yanked the sheet up over my breasts as I sat up.
"Hello?" I called shakily.
Silence was the only answer. I stood up slowly, wrapping the sheet around me as I took in the room.
It was an open loft, with a railing that looked down onto something below. The heavy wooden bed was plain as the room, with simple white sheets and blankets.
Cautiously I made my way down the narrow stairs, trying not to trip on the sheet.
Downstairs was another single room, plain and silent. Greenish light streamed in from a large bank of floor-to-ceiling sealed windows.
There was a small kitchen area in one corner with a black stove, a sink, a few cabinets, and an open door to a large pantry. A plain wood table and two chairs rounded out the space.
The rest of the large room was almost empty, but not quite. There were two other items, strange and out of place. One was a sleek pedestal tub in front of the windows. The other was a gym-quality exercise bike in the opposite corner.
My mind tried to make sense of this and failed. It was like waking up in a Salvador Dali painting. Was this real? Or maybe this was what happened when you quietly went insane.
I went to the windows and looked out. Thick trees formed a lush canyon of green. Whatever this place was, it backed into a yawning green mouth of a ravine, with trees for gums and rocks for teeth.
There would be no escape in that direction, even if the thick windows could be broken. Not unless I was harboring a hidden talent for rock climbing.
My eyes were drawn to the tub. It looked like copper, deep and curving higher on each end. A faucet was mounted to the wall, but there were no handles for hot or cold water.
I glanced at the kitchen sink, which also had no faucets. To one side was something I recognized from grade school pioneer tours: a hand pump to bring in well water.
Split wood was piled neatly beside the stove. That baby operated on tree fuel. Where was the microwave? Where was the refrigerator?
For that matter, where were the lights? Glancing up I saw recessed lights in the ceiling, but no signs of switches on any of the walls.
What a screwed-up house. Just like its owner.
I tugged the sheet more tightly around me. Speaking of which, just exactly where was my unhinged host?
A quick look through the cabinets revealed plates, glasses and cups, utensils, pots and pans, a metal coffee pot. Under the sink were soap and sponges, a single bottle of bleach.
The pantry was large and neat, lined with shelves against the back wall. One shelf held folded white bath towels and washcloths. One was stacked with candles and matches.
On the floor to one side were several large bags of a high-quality whey protein. There was no other food that I associated to a real pantry: no boxes of pasta or jars of sauce, no bags of chips or random cans of soup.
On another shelf were expensive upgrades of my usual products: soap, shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer. A toothbrush, a few ponytail holders.
A dark-handled hairbrush was pushed slightly to one side. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands, feeling the heaviness.
Mason Pearson, model B1. Natural boar bristles and a three-hundred-dollar price tag. How many times had I lingered over this online, unwilling to splurge but longing just the same.
It scared the hell out of me, how many things Hex seemed to know about me.
There was no sign of any of my makeup, but a pair of sheer, flesh-colored panties and a white exercise bra were on the bottom shelf. A set of thick, white ankle socks and a pair of expensive cross-trainer shoes rested beside them.
There was no sign of the clothes I'd been wearing last night. Or any other clothes for that matter.
I backed out of the pantry and looked around again. There was also no sign of a door.
How did he even get you in here? Through the window? Did he build the house around you?
I didn't know how I got in. All I knew was that I needed to get out. Fast. Hex might reappear at any moment like he had last night, unexpected and unpredictable.
The bra and panties were plain and sleek, with an expensive feel to the fabric. I couldn't stop myself from compulsively checking the size.
18/20.
Gritting my teeth, I gathered them up along with a towel and the socks and shoes, taking them over to the table. By habit I glanced around to make sure no one was looking before letting the sheet drop to get dressed.
Okay, maybe I had the right curvy shape, but there was just too damn much of it. An hourglass figure? That was for amateurs. Mine could tell time for a week.
The towel was long enough to create a crude short toga around me. I tucked it tight and sat down to pull on the socks. For the first time I saw a neat white bandage on my right ankle.
I know what these are. This last one is deep.
My mind pushed that thought aside. There was no room to think about that right now.
I jerked on the socks and shoes. There was no mirror, but I didn't need one to know that I looked ridiculous. At least I wasn't technically naked anymore.
Silence settled over the house, broken only by soft wind and the merry song of birds. My eyes swept the space again.
Was I missing something? There was so little in the room that—
Something blinked in my peripheral vision. It was the screen of the bike, suddenly come to life.
Ignore it. That's probably the opening move in a game you don't want to play.
Yeah. Too bad the game had already started without anyone asking me.
Cautiously I approached it, so out of place in the rustic cabin. Two words glowed on the blue screen.
RIDE ME, it flashed.
CHAPTER SIX
Oh, HELL no.
Hex co
uld do whatever he wanted to me, but I wasn't going to climb on there and ride like a hamster on a wheel. Especially not while wearing a towel and underwear.
My defiance sounded good inside my head, very tough and confident. The problem was there didn't seem to be anything else to do. Sitting around in a towel waiting for something to happen didn't sound like an ace plan.
For several minutes I paced the small room, cussing under my breath. From time to time I threw the bike a dirty look with zero effect.
My thirst was making its presence known. I put off a decision with a trip to the kitchen.
The hand pump was simple enough to work, but it took some serious elbow grease to finally bring up a flow of cold water. I filled a glass and tasted carefully.
Soon I was gulping. The crisp, clear water put the chlorine brew from Atlanta to shame.
The bike sat in the corner, silently blinking and mocking me. I could almost hear its sneering voice.
How's that towel suiting you, Eva?
Fine. I'd play whatever game Hex was running, but if I ever got the upper hand…
Hiking the towel up over my thighs, I climbed aboard and nearly fell right back off. No one would call me Grace if they were watching me as I settled on the leather seat.
I hadn't been on a bike since middle school, but the seat was adjusted perfectly. It was exactly right for the length of my legs.
Of course it was. Why was it here, if not for me?
When I started to peddle, tension knotted the back of my neck. Would it blow up? Give me an electrical shock? Make Hex appear in a puff of smoke?
As I picked up speed, the flashing RIDE ME faded on the screen. A new message appeared.
5 MILES=DINNER
7 MILES=CLOTHES
10 MILES=HOT BATH
15 MILES=ANSWERS
I stopped peddling, my heart pounding as I stared at the screen. The message lingered for a moment before a new one slowly appeared, flat and emotionless.
O MILES=NO REWARDS
SLEEP NAKED
TIED TO BED IN DARK
The words danced in front of my eyes. For a brief moment I fantasized about saying the hell with it. He could hurt me, but he couldn’t make me perform.
Go right ahead. See how that turns out for you.
The cabin was silent as I sat chewing on my thumbnail. He might be bluffing, but faking hadn't gotten him into my apartment or given him all the details about my life and habits.
In the end it wasn't that little voice that got me going again. It wasn't the rumble of hunger in my stomach. It wasn't the desire for a bath, even though I could smell my own sweat.
I wanted answers, to know why I was here. Just like the proverbial cat, I could never leave well enough alone.
Reluctantly my legs started to move again. The message faded on the screen, showing only my speed and distance traveled in blue digital readout.
Working up to what felt like a good pace, I glanced at the screen again after a moment. It showed eight miles per hour. At this rate I'd be riding for the better part of two hours.
I burst up to fifteen miles an hour, but my legs simply couldn't sustain it. Brisk, regular biking wasn't exactly part of my normal habits.
After several more tries I regretfully slowed my pace. It was going to have to be a very long, slow ride with some stops along the way.
Slow and steady wins the race. Every journey starts with one step.
Are you going to buy into that motivational crap people repeat so they don't feel like losers?
Here's a better idea. Just get this shit done.
Sweat began to run down my back under the towel, dampening the snug seat between my legs. There were no air conditioning or fans in the cabin.
I was going at least far enough to earn a bath and dinner. Unless my legs gave out first.
Without my iPod, TV, or even something to read, my thoughts kept returning to the strange situation where I'd landed. My mind couldn't find any direction, like a compass spinning wildly.
How had he found me? I'd always known he had to be just online, a secret I hugged close to myself. I'd been careful never to give details of my real life to keep myself safe.
Apparently I'd badly misjudged that part.
That's the understatement of the century. You never saw ANY of this coming.
True. I'd never seen him coming, but he'd almost seen me coming. Oh my yes.
My thoughts flashed back to the strange tenderness in his fingers as he'd entered me. Looking into his eyes and listening to his voice, I'd gone down without a fight.
Sure I'd tried to shoot him once sanity returned, but that utter surrender at his hands still troubled me. He wouldn't find me such an easy target if he tried that again.
Hopefully I looked at the screen to see how far I'd gone. An unimpressive 0.38 miles.
I longed for anything to occupy my mind, but again and again it returned to Hex. Not just as he had been at my apartment, but our two years of intimacy and secrets.
How freely I'd shared my inner self and my outer lies. How stupidly certain I'd been that we would never meet. That there would never be consequences.
Now he'd materialized, and I had all of his twisted attention. I should be finding a way to escape, but the only way seemed to be riding this damn bike.
My mind kept returning to the way his scent had wrapped around me. The feel of his body against mine. Crazy or not, there was something about him that drew me like a very stupid moth toward a very dangerous flame.
A funny little sensation twisted below my bellybutton. I told myself it was hunger and sped up, trying to out-pedal my racing thoughts.
The greenish light from the windows gradually shifted as I struggled on the bike. Ten miles didn't sound like much, but my legs and ass begged to differ.
It was impossible to tell how much time was passing as the miles accumulated with agonizing slowness. Finally on the screen:
10.0 MILES
Theoretically I now had clothes, dinner, and a bath. My legs were trembling from fatigue. I really couldn't go any further. Stick a fork in me. I was done.
As if reading my mind, the screen flashed again.
15.0 MILES=ANSWERS
My whole lower body groaned, but I kept pedaling, my pace slowing ever more as I went.
Answers were that I wanted most. Why couldn't that have been the five-mile reward? As hungry as I was starting to feel, I would have given up dinner for information.
That, of course was exactly why it was last. Because I wanted it most. I'd play the game, but he better not try to trick me.
What exactly are you going to do? Sweat on him?
Yeah. Something like that.
The last five miles took longer than the first ten. At one point my left calf cramped, forcing me to get off and stretch until it passed.
Another time it was my butt having a spasm. I wasn't quite sure how to stretch that, so I limped around the cabin a few times until the pain eased.
Each time it was harder to make myself remount the already-hated bike. And each restart made me hate Hex more.
The last mile was the worst. My face felt like a forest fire, sweaty hair sticking in little pieces all over the back of my neck. The towel and panties were as soaked as if I'd showered in them.
It didn't seem like the numbers were moving at all. Finally they paused, seeming to tremble as sweat ran into my eyes.
Without warning the numbers disappeared as a new message appeared on the screen:
TODAY=WARMUP
TOMORROW=FARTHER
The message slowly faded to a solid blue screen. Nothing else appeared.
That was it? Not even a GOOD JOB?
What an asshole.
Angry and almost in tears, I scrambled off the bike for the last time. Usually I avoided sweat at all costs, but here I was stewing in my own juices, thirsty and exhausted.
In the kitchen I found a large plastic bowl and pumped it full of cold water. Hex had promised me a bath,
but screw him. I wasn't going to hang around basting in my own sweat, waiting for him to show up.
I fetched a bath towel, a washcloth, and the bar of soap from the pantry. The towel was sodden as I peeled it off and let it fall to my feet along with the damp bra. The sweaty panties stayed. They were better than nothing.
The water was shockingly cold on my hot skin. I propped one foot on the edge of the sink to wash, gritting my teeth.
The soap was good, sweet and musky. Indigo Wild Sandalwood Citrus. My favorite.
Hex knew my tastes and habits to a level that should be terrifying. So why did a tiny, twisted corner of my mind also find it flattering?
Because you need help. The very expensive, professional kind. A therapist should be your first stop when –
A low wolf whistle made me gasp. My hands flew to cover my breasts as I stared wildly over my shoulder.
Hex was standing in the doorway of the pantry behind me.
"I going to burn every pair of your panties that don't fit you exactly like that," he said. "Wait. I guess I already did."
CHAPTER SEVEN
My hearing was pretty sharp, but he hadn't made a sound. That feeling that he somehow wasn't quite real returned, stirring the hair on the back of my neck.
He wasn't getting the satisfaction of seeing me scramble to cover myself. Instead I hugged my arms closer around my body, glaring at him.
The silvery heat in his eyes scorched me as they did a slow inspection from my rumpled hair to my bare toes. There were plenty of lingering stops at choice locations along the way.
"Maybe instead you could give me back my clothes," I suggested.
"Not unless you can find a stylish way to wear ashes," he said, walking over to set the box on the table.
He was wearing a pale blue shirt rolled to the elbows and faded Levis. His body rippled with sinewy, silent grace as he moved.
The cabin seemed to fill up with the subtle, magnetically male scent of him. His brief online descriptions hadn't prepared me for the charisma that surrounded him like a low-grade electrical charge.
