Deadly Captive

by Bianca Sommerland

  Uh huh. I found his assurance hard to believe, so I changed the subject. "Are you from around here?"

  "Here?" His eyes widened a little. "Why yes, actually. A five-hour drive will get you right to my front door."

  "Ah." Wrong question. I tongued my lip and tried to think of a better one. "Why don't you have an accent?"

  "I work hard to fit in. I can mimic any accent when the need arises." He pressed my head to his shoulder and resumed petting my hair. "But you've got a distinctly American accent. Midwestern, I'd say."

  "We're not in America." I didn't ask. I was tired of asking. Eventually I'd remember on my own.

  "No. They caught me in Bremen and didn't drive long enough to have left the city."

  Bremen. I pursed my lips when my mind drew up another blank. I had a feeling he was hedging on purpose, and, though I might eventually remember, I needed the information now.

  "Where are we, Joe?"

  He chuckled and shifted me on his lap so I faced him. "Germany. The year is 2011—or was when they caught me. I imagine it's late spring by now. The flowers are in bloom."

  Like I cared about stupid flowers. I considered his words for a bit. "They let you go outside?"

  Outside meant a chance to escape. Even if Joe hadn't, I would find a way.

  "No, they don't let me go anywhere. I am either locked in a room or in the arena putting on a show." He sighed and cupped my chin in his hand. "Do not accept defeat, but you must understand there's no easy way out."

  My gaze flicked to the door. "Between the two of us, we could probably—"

  "I managed to break the lock my first night here. It wasn't hard—I think they wanted me to." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "This is a game to them. They will toy with you—break you if they can. Don't give them any more reasons to try."

  "So we just wait and—"

  "You wait. I'll figure out something."

  Not likely. I tried to push off his lap, and he locked his arms around my waist.

  Wiggling got me nowhere, so I scowled at him.

  "Relax. You can either stay with me and ask me all the questions you want or you can break out and have them maul you." His lips pressed together when I arched my brow. "And I mean that literally."

  When I opened my mouth to argue—because I couldn't help myself—he prodded my side with the tips of his fingers. I gasped and stared at the bruised flesh over my ribs, amazed at the agony from that gentle touch. The chains had left long, black and red lines and a whole lot of damage.

  Which could take weeks to heal. No. I refused to wait.

  "I'll be fine." Really, the bruises hadn't hurt until he'd touched them. "How many guards are outside the door? If we catch them by surprise and make a run for it—"

  "Try taking a deep breath," he said.

  I did and instantly regretted it. Pain knifed through me like a fiery claw trying to rip my lungs out of my body. Damn him, he was right. In my condition, I couldn't walk farther than the bed or the bathroom, never mind run.

  My options were limited. I sighed and drummed my fingers on his big, hard chest. "So, we have to wait."

  He slid his hand down to my hip. "At least until you recover."

  His thumb stroked the slope of my pelvis, going a little lower with each pass.

  The muscles in my belly twitched, and I swallowed. Apparently, recovery didn't mean bed rest. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted to do with our spare time.

  The way he made me feel tempted me. But I refused to be distracted.

  I grabbed his wrist when his fingers slid between my thighs. "Tell me more about those people." He shook his head, and I narrowed my eyes. "Tell me about Cyrus."

  "You're not ready." He freed his wrist and put his hand back on my thigh. He caught the edge of my rag dress. "Why not forget about them for a bit and—"

  Gritting my teeth, I snapped my knees together and glared at his hand. "Let me up, I've gotta . . . go

  He set me on my feet, and then pointed at the door to the right of the wall covered in chains. "The bathroom's right there."

  A bathroom. Maybe it had a mirror?

  I headed across the small room, hoping I could lock myself in for a while—give myself time to think without him . . . .

  Turning the knob, I swung the door open, but then retreated when the stench hit me. The small, cubical room was disgusting. Red and brown ran up the sides of the toilet and streaked the yellow tiled walls. The small sink was cruddy and grey.

  There was no mirror.

  I closed the door.

  "Changed your mind?" Joe came up behind me and set his hands on my shoulders.

  "I don't need to go that bad."

  But I would.

  "I'll see about getting us some soap." His grip tightened on my arms, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. The far-off look in his eyes made me think getting anything from our captors came with a price.

  "This isn't the room you were in before." I pried his hands from my shoulders, then turned and touched his cheek. "They put you in here because of me."

  He gave me a curt nod. "My room wasn't exactly the plaza, but it was clean."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be." He put his hand on my arm and nudged me towards the table. "You should eat."

  Taking a step forward, I eyed the grey slop on the plate. "I don't know if I can."

  His breath stirred the tiny hairs at my nape. "That's fine. There're other things we can do to pass the time."

  I half-skidded to the chair, plunked down, then picked up the spoon to poke at the lumpy mess on the plate. "Is it edible?"

  I had to look up to see his shrug. "It serves its purpose."

  True enough. He certainly looked healthy. I watched him strip off his T-shirt as I brought the spoon to my mouth. He stretched his arms over his head and flexed. The spoon bumped my cheek.

  Holy mother of . . . . I shook my head and fixed my gaze on a deep scratch on the table. Methodically, I ate the bland food and considered the hopeless situation I'd found myself in.

  Not hopeless. Just . . . difficult. Hopelessness implied a kind of surrender, a passive acceptance of being at another's mercy. Granted, I was at another's mercy, but the opportunity to escape would come.

  I scraped the last of the tasteless gruel from the plate, then lifted the spoon to my lips, eyes drifting over to Joe. I closed my mouth over the spoon and left it there.

  On the floor, with his legs extended, arms braced shoulder-width beneath him, he lowered so slowly it was painful to watch. Rising just as slowly, he never released the motion, merely descending again without giving his muscles the barest reprieve. I couldn't imagine my body managing such torturous exercise without buckling or, at the very least, shaking.

  He set one arm on the small of his back, and the other began to quiver. The fact that he was human—well built, strictly disciplined, but human—revealed itself in the hard set of his jaw and the rivulets of sweat that ran down his face. Not unaffected by the brutal training, only steadfast, driven by motivations that would not permit weakness.

  With a light touch of one finger, I tested the solidity of the muscle of my forearm, eyes still set on Joe, but not really seeing him anymore. I touched my biceps, clenching so it stretched against my skin. Dropping my hands to my stomach, I smiled.

  Maybe I should get down on the floor beside him and see if my arms would be as steady as his.

  "Lydia."

  The abrupt way Joe said the name sent a frisson of fear straight through me. My eyes shot to the door. There was no one there.

  Chapter Three

  Joe chuckled and deftly shot to his feet. "Well, that answers that question."

  I bit my lip and shook my head. What question? Why suddenly say a name when no one was . . . ?

  Lydia. I mouthed the name, rolling my tongue around it, and waited for a spark of recognition. I felt nothing. But he would know my name, wouldn't he?

  My eyes narrowed. "You were testing me." />
  Shrugging his shoulders backward in a lazy stretch, he nodded. "Yes, but you passed. Don't worry about it."

  Surging forward, I drove the heel of my palm into his sternum. He stumbled into the wall by the bed, staring at me as he righted himself. I smirked.

  Didn't see that coming, did you, asshole?

  His eyes narrowed. A muscle in his jaw ticked. I scrambled off the bed when he strode towards me, but he caught a fistful of my hair and jerked me against his front.

  Then, he forced me into the space between the bed frame and the wall. The metal frame felt like a bar of ice on the bare flesh of my side. I tried to wrench out of his grasp and dodge him. He hauled me back and trapped me with the press of his body.

  "Don't ever do that again," he said, through gritted teeth. "This situation hasn't left me with much tolerance."

  My eyes teared, but my gaze never wavered. "Right back at you. I didn't sign up for your games."

  He eased his grip on my hair. "Neither of us signed up for any of this, Lydia. I wanted to make sure I could trust my cell mate."

  "Of all the . . . ." I shook my head. "Please, I need to know. Some kind of morbid curiosity, I guess. Why in the world would I fake memory loss? What purpose would it serve?"

  With a shrug, he rested his arm on my shoulder, still loosely holding my hair. "It would be a clever sympathy card."

  Damn it, he's right. I felt the tension ease from my body, no longer feeling very combative. "How do you know I'm not faking it? If I was, it would be pretty stupid to acknowledge my name."

  "No. Actually, it wouldn't have proven much. It might have made me suspicious, more than I already was. It would be strange that you'd remember your name, but not your own face. I was hoping your reaction would be revealing." He closed his eyes and dropped his head. "It was, but not in the way I'd hoped. The loss is worse than I thought. There wasn't even a glimmer of recognition."

  Grazing my teeth back and forth along my bottom lip, I glared at his chest. "It could be an act."

  Fingers under my chin, he tilted my head up. "No, Lydia. You couldn't have faked the fear I saw. You thought it was one of them."

  I jerked away from him and clenched my fists at my sides. "I'm not afraid of them."

  "Yes, you are. You're not a stupid woman, Lydia."

  The way he said my name sent a chill down my spine. I dug my nails into my palms.

  "Stop."

  He frowned. "Stop what?"

  "Saying my name like that."

  With a wicked smile, he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. "Lydia."

  I swung my fist at his face. He knocked it aside and caught my wrist when I tried again.

  "Lydia." He backed me into the table. My hip knocked the empty plate and it clattered on the floor. Sitting me on the edge of the table, he trapped my face between his hands. My breath caught, and I pressed my eyes shut, expecting him to slam his mouth on mine. It could hurt; my lips were still sore.

  His tongue gently traced the crease of my lips. He combed his fingers into my hair and tugged until I tipped my head back. Then, he kissed me so tenderly I opened my eyes and stared at him.

  He kissed the tip of my nose. "Why do you look so surprised?"

  Why? I licked my bottom lip and tasted the saltiness of his sweat. Delicious. My eyes dropped to the moisture beaded on his chest. I leaned forward. He tightened his grip.

  "Well?"

  I groaned. "I thought you'd be rough."

  "You keep looking at me like that, and I will be."

  He took hold of the cloth hung over my shoulder and eased it down. Freeing my arms, I lifted them over my head and sat up against him. He slid the material down to my waist, baring my breast. The cold bit at them, hardening my nipples before he covered them with his hands.

  My breasts were tiny, maybe too tiny. As though reading my mind, he kissed me and backed away a little. A crooked smile on his lips, he squeezed my breasts. "I wonder if they would be bigger if you weren't such a fitness junkie."

  Wrinkling my nose, I frowned at him. "Too small?"

  His laughter vibrated through me as he pressed closer. He shook his head. "No. I always find more than a handful is a waste." Curving his hands under my breasts, he rolled my nipples against his fingers with his thumb. "Besides, like this they're less likely to sag."

  Making a sound of affront, I smacked his large forearm. Before the smack finished sounding, he bent to suck a hard nipple into his mouth. Electric sparks sizzled along my nerves, and a groan escaped me. His teeth grazed my nipple. My back bowed, and I braced my hands on the table.

  His hand moved up my inner thigh, and I flattened my hands on his slick chest as he dipped a finger inside me. My core throbbed as he worked his finger in deep.

  "You're so wet." He added another finger and leaned over to kiss my neck. "Tell me you want this."

  I wiggled my hips so my butt was on the very edge of the table. "Obviously."

  "Please." He lifted his head, and his heavy lidded eyes looked dark, haunted.

  "Just say it."

  Pleasure filled me as he pumped his fingers in and out, but I felt cold as I considered why he needed to hear the words. He'd been forced to rape me and at least two others.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed against him. "I want this. I want you."

  He reached between us and unzipped his jeans. "Good."

  With one arm wrapped around my waist, he positioned himself between my thighs. Gripping his dick, he slipped it up and down my slit. His thick head pushed between my folds, penetrating, stretching. Liquid fire spilled into my core as he filled me with one smooth thrust.

  His steel eyes met mine and heavy breaths underscored his every word. "I can be gentle. If you want me to, I will, but . . . ."

  I closed my eyes and arched up to the twisting of his hips. "Just do it, Joe. Do it as though we were in another time, another place. Don't think about anything but what we both want."

  Dropping his head and giving a slight nod, he began to move, slowly at first, then building in momentum, quick and rough. His fingers dug into my thighs as he beat into me. He claimed my mouth, and the sweat rimming his upper lip made the kiss sting. I gasped into his mouth as the pain coiled with pleasure and lifted my hips to receive each thrust, taking him deeper and deeper. The swollen head of his dick hit a bundle of nerves in my core. An orgasm ripped through me, and I bit his bottom lip.

  Everything inside me quivered, hypersensitive. Pleasantly sore, but I couldn't bear . . . .

  He rocked his hips. I shuddered and wrapped my legs around his waist to keep him still. His thigh muscles tensed, and he shoved me onto my back, thrusting harder and harder. I whimpered as another wave of ecstasy billowed up, sweet, too sweet. A spurt of heat filled me, and I felt his dick twitch as he came inside my body.

  Breathing hard, he kissed my throat, letting out a gruff laugh when I tried to wiggle out from under him. "Just give me a minute, sweetie."

  Give him a minute?

  I shoved his away from me and hopped off the table. Cum coated his throbbing dick, making him nice and slippery. I wrapped my hand around him and dropped to my knees. He cursed when I took him in my mouth.

  Sucking hard, I grazed tight flesh with my teeth. With a growl, he took hold of my hair and rimmed me down his cock until he hit the back of my throat. I dug my nails into his ass and slicked my wet lips up, tasting his salty, thick fluid mixed with my own lighter coat. When he tried to hold me down, I gave warning with my teeth.

  "God." A breath hissed through his teeth. "Stop."

  His dick left my mouth with a loud pop. I swirled my tongue along the base of his crest and gazed up, smiling. "Are you sure?"

  Eyes hooded, he stared at me, and then laughed. "No, damn it. It feels so good it hurts. But, seeing you like that . . . gods be damned, it's worth the pain."

  Pleased with his response, I bent back down, a little gentler, wetting my lips with my tongue before I took him
back in my mouth. Pushing down the flesh of his cock in a languorous motion, I sucked and circled my tongue. I could feel his pulse speed up, so I moved faster. The head of his dick swelled, and I swallowed fast, smiling when the muscles in his thighs quivered. Seconds later, he went soft under my tongue.

  When I let him go, he collapsed on the bed and flopped his arm over his eyes.

  Standing just long enough to pull the top of the makeshift dress over my shoulders and the bottom past my hips, I lay at his side and let him pull me into his tight embrace.

  The taste of sex on my tongue became pasty and foul. I scrubbed my lips with the edge of the sheet.

  Nasty. He must think I'm disgusting. What the hell's wrong with me?

  I hid my head in the curve under his arm. "That didn't feel natural. I mean, it didn't feel like something I did . . . ."

  Absently stroking my hair, his shoulders shifted under my head in a shrug.

  "Desperate times…" He slid over and turned on his side. "Don't be ashamed. We both know why we did this. Even if only once, it's nice to have a choice."

  "I'd hate to think I would have done that with whoever they stuck me with." I tilted my head, so I could see his reaction to what I'd said.

  He stared at the ceiling. "Me, too."

  Chapter Four

  "How come we never see them when they bring our food?" I spoke around a mouthful of chicken, the first real food we'd shared in this place. I marked my days by when I slept. Seven days, ten days? I wasn't sure.

  Using his teeth to rip a large chuck of meat from the bone he held in his hand, Joe shrugged. "I assume they don't want us to. Sometimes, I feel their presence but—" He paused, noting my shiver. "They're not here now. Don't worry."

  Seeing no need to argue, I simply nodded. "So, what warranted the upgrade from slop?"

  Refusing to meet my steady gaze, he shrugged, taking another bite, making it obvious he had no intention of answering.

  Wanting to press him further, but knowing there was no point, I filled my mouth with a forkful of potatoes dripping with butter. Real butter, not margarine, though I couldn't say how I knew the difference. The splash of liquid into the one glass set in the middle of the table, next to our one food-laden plate, brought my head up.