BLYSS (Blyss Trilogy #1)

by J. C. Cliff

  “Ah, I heard that. I see dinner is just in time,” he says with a smirk as he steers the bite of food straight toward my lips to feed me. I’m dumbfounded at myself as I comply, my lips automatically parting, accepting the warm bite of food before me. “That-a girl,” he praises.

  “Mmmm.” Shit, I can’t believe I just moaned.

  He reaches for a napkin, then dabs the corners of my lips with it. “Our finest cuisine, Madame, made especially for you.” He speaks the words with an exaggerated French accent and gives me a grin, and then in the same accent, he says, “I guess meat and potatoes are gluten-free, no?” I almost giggle, but I repress it with a shy smile. “Ahhh, now that’s a beautiful sight. I must thank the chef personally.” The meal does taste wonderful, especially since I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Despite the circumstances, I do appreciate him trying to make me feel better, especially now that he’s told me he won’t hurt me.

  However, I know I shouldn’t get too comfortable with him, and I also know I’m not thinking rationally right now, either. I have no idea how to deal with this situation, and I feel so foolish allowing myself to slip into denial. This has got to be part of the shock process I’m going through, escaping into Travis-land as a self-preservation mechanism. After Nick’s jolting blow by threatening to sell me, I can’t seem to admit to myself the full reality of my circumstances anymore; my consciousness simply refuses to acknowledge it.

  An inviting grin plays across his handsome face while he stares intently at me, lifting one brow. He’s damn good at playing this game; I’ll give him that. My state of mind went from irate to shock, and then my tears turned into small smiles, all at record speed. I feel like I’m out of my mind as my emotions have been scattered all over the map.

  “You are, you know…” he says rather seriously, “…a beautiful sight.” I blush, averting my gaze from his. He chuckles at me while turning to gather up another forkful of food. I’m sure I’m a sight, all right—all battered and bruised.

  I glance back up at him, his profile facing me, and I notice through his scruffy beard there’s a long line where facial hair hasn’t grown. It’s a scar, and it starts in front of his right ear and runs along the underside of his jawline. It’s a thin scar, barely visible to the naked eye, which makes me think it’s old. It only adds to his sexy, yet dangerous persona. I have the urge to trace it with my finger, but of course, I don’t.

  I don’t feel threatened by Travis at all, even though there seems to be a certain unreadable edge to him. I can’t quite put my finger on it. With Nick, you can feel the evil emanating from him, and it screams at you from a mile away. He doesn’t try to conceal it either. Travis, on the other hand, seems to be one cool cat. You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling. He’s obviously a well-practiced master of controlling his own emotions and expressions.

  I snap out of my deep thoughts the moment I feel him tapping on my lower lip with the tip of the fork, willing me to open for him. My lips automatically part, allowing him to slip the warm food into my mouth. I have a niggling question, so as soon as I swallow my bite, I tentatively ask, “When can I get this needle out of my arm?”

  “Tomorrow morning, I promise. We left it in for your own safety. Now that you’re up, eating, and feeling better, it can come out.”

  His doting is a welcome distraction. He feeds me from then on in a comfortable silence, leaving me with my own endless thoughts and unanswered questions. Before I know it, I’m swallowing the last bite of food.

  “What are you thinking about, Julianna?”

  I close my eyes, letting out an audible sigh. “You really don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, I do. What you think is important to me.”

  I lift my head to stare into his eyes, trying to decide if he’s being sincere, but he’s unreadable. “Why?”

  “Why what, Julianna?”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I follow his movements as he places the fork on the empty food tray.

  Looking toward me again, he tilts his head, peering at me through his long eyelashes with a tenderness I can’t describe. “This is just a small part of my job. Your safekeeping and care are my responsibility,” he softly replies.

  I don’t know how to respond to his declaration, so I attempt to stay on track with my line of questioning, and ask, “Why me?” I find my voice, finally steadying out. “Why is it you guys specifically wanted me?”

  He looks down to find my hands and gently captures them in his own, tenderly holding them. My hands look so small against his calloused ones, and we both watch as his thumbs trace a pattern across the backside of my knuckles. The question hangs in the air, and my anxiety escalates. I want to cry again for being held here against my will. My food suddenly sits on my stomach like a rock, and I want to vomit. Even though Travis says he won’t hurt me, the fact remains, I’m a captive.

  Why they specifically want me is a really simple question, and yet neither man will give me a straightforward answer. After a brief hesitation, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I’m immediately caught up in feelings and emotions I have no business entertaining. The man seems to get more handsome with each passing minute. I close my eyes tightly, rest my head against the headboard, and think of Adam. I’m losing my freaking mind with these bizarre thoughts.

  “I can’t answer that question, Julianna. In time, if Nick deems it appropriate, he will tell you himself.”

  How frustrating. Why will neither of them tell me why Nick has it in for me? I look him square in the eyes now and ask point blank, “Are you guys going to kill me?”

  Now it’s Travis’ turn to have the deer-in-headlights look. “No, Julianna,” he answers unwaveringly, like he can’t believe I’d ask such a thing. “My God, no.”

  Since Travis claims he won’t hurt me, I ask, “Does Nick plan on hurting me?”

  A quick flash of remorse crosses his expression before he schools his features. He lets out a small sigh and softly replies, “Hurt is a relative term. To hurt you to cause you true bodily harm? No. But pain for pleasure and obtaining mutual satisfaction? Eventually—and only when I feel you’re ready for it—yes.”

  I swallow hard at the thought and want to throw my dinner back up. I squeeze his hands in a tight grip. My stomach makes a noise and I say, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I know you’re upset. Just keep calm and know I’m right here with you, Julianna. You feel me?”

  No, I don’t feel him, and I’m growing scared of the unknown violations to come. My active imagination is beginning to conjure up things using the items behind the red wall of curtains, and I close my eyes and wince. I can feel the familiar sting in my nose as my eyes prepare for a heavy downpour of water works, but before it has a chance to turn on, Travis says, “Hey, stay with me here. I know you’re scared, but I’ve got you, okay?”

  He’s damn good at reading my emotions; he doesn’t give me time to freak out. He immediately puts his hands back, framing both of them around my face, forcing me to lock my watery eyes with his piercing stare, which speaks with intense conviction. It’s always his eyes that calm me and knock the wind out of me, all at the same time.

  I stay in a silent trance, soaking in his reassurance, hoping it’s not a lie. “No worries tonight...for me, Julianna, okay?” He repeats himself, “For me...understand?”

  “No, I don’t understand, but I will try.” My voice is shaky, and I slightly nod my head in his hands. I’m not sure what I’m really agreeing to. What I do know is I don’t want this beautiful criminal to stop showing me compassion, and showering me with his soft words of mercy.

  Satisfied with my answer, he pulls away slowly. My heart racing as he lowers his hand and I think he’s going for my breasts, but he doesn’t. He grazes just below my neckline, scooping up my medallion necklace. His simple touch against my skin keeps my heart beating rapidly, and I find myself dwelling on the confusion of what this feeling is he has over me. What is this suppo
sed to mean? There is something undeniable here—at least there is on my end—and it makes me angry at myself.

  “This looks like it may be special to you, no?” He cocks his head to the side as he studies my medallion; then he turns the silver heart around, looking at the back’s inscription. “What does this mean to you?” I don’t want to tell him what it really means to me. This was my mother’s piece, and my father saved it for me until I was old enough to wear it. I rarely ever take it off as it’s the only piece of my mother I have left. It goes without saying what this heirloom means to me.

  I quietly speak with trepidation, “Well, it reads, ‘Family, where life begins and love never ends…love eternal.’ My father had this inscribed on the backside for me on my third birthday. I mean, really,” I shrug, “the message is self-explanatory.”

  “It’s heavy.”

  “Yeah, it’s made of pure silver. It’s called a triskele; it’s a Celtic symbol. I don’t know what it meant to my dad when he bought it, because we’re not Irish. I guess he picked it out for its meaning of eternal love more than anything.” For his undying love toward my mother.

  “Eternal love,” he says, repeating me, “interesting.” He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s reflecting on something.

  “Yeah, my dad would always tell me I was his light during his darkest days. It’s supposed to represent love and light.” Come to think of it, though, I haven’t heard my father tell me those words in over a decade. Maybe he felt he told me enough times and didn’t need to repeat it. I don’t know.

  “That’s one hell of a unique stone,” Travis says in awe, looking closely at the centerpiece of the symbol. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, ever.”

  “It’s just like a ruby only rarer. It’s called a red beryl.” I’m not much in the mood to elaborate on anything right now, but talking about my family at least makes me feel a tad calmer. What he doesn't need to know is just how rare and expensive this stone is. It’s quality being one of the highest grades available and very hard to come by. There is no way I would ever be able to replace it.

  When I was little, my father was adamant about me wearing the necklace as I got older. He made it a point to tell me to never be afraid of wearing it for fear of losing it. He would always say: this is a piece of your mother, and it’s meant to be worn, not gathering dust in an armoire. She would want you wearing it.

  “It’s very beautiful, Julianna,” he says sincerely. “You must be a very rare gem yourself to have been given that.” He studies it for another moment before gently placing it back on my chest.

  It’s then I realize I shouldn’t have said the stone was rare. I’m dealing with hardened criminals, and I cringe at the thought of them taking this from me. “If there is only one thing I am allowed to ask or have, it’s to please never take this from me,” I plead earnestly. “This is everything to me,” I say, clutching the symbol in my hand.

  “I understand, Julianna.” He shakes his head. “No one has any intention of taking that from you. I know it’s something special to you.”

  “It is,” I say on a whisper. More than anyone will ever know.

  He nods his head and pulls away from me, then tilts his head to the side while taking a tendril of my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “Would you care for a sleeping pill, so you can rest well tonight?” He looks at me with pure concern, which again throws me into a tailspin of confusion. “I’m sure your nerves are shot, and you won’t sleep well...if at all. I don’t want to see you lay awake all night tossing and turning in worry. Your rest is important to me.”

  Somehow, I don’t think my rest is truly all that important to them. I do know he’s right, though; I am all shaken up. I know I will go out of my mind, restlessly tossing and turning during the night, fearing tomorrow and the unknown. I’d rather be knocked out than awake and trying to get a grip on my escalating anxiety. Maybe if I wake up well-rested, the shock will clear, and I can go right into my next phase of captivity—escape planning. One can only hope.

  I nod my head tightly in agreement, trying to calm my racing heart. I’m so glad to have the drugs coming on board, and not a minute too soon.

  “Julianna, when I ask you a question, from now on, I expect you to answer me verbally and with a sir, understand?”

  Even though he has asked in a kind and gentle manner, he means business. I don’t like this business, but I can tell by the way he exudes an air of authority and dominance that I don’t really want to tempt fate tonight, and I don’t need to know what kind of business he means—I already found out from Nick. Travis has been so good to me thus far. I don’t mind paying him a little respect; it is only a simple request, after all. He may play winning games with a poker face, but I’m beginning to read his thoughts and emotions through his eyes.

  “Yes, sir,” I reply in a timid whisper.

  Travis reaches in his pocket to pull out a bottle of pills that rattle when he unscrews the lid. I watch him place two pills in the palm of his hand. Why is he giving me two pills? I begin to question what it is I’ve agreed to take. He grabs the bottled water from the nightstand then looks at me expectantly. Instead of rolling my eyes, I just go ahead and open my mouth for him. I have a feeling if I said no originally, and didn’t comply, he’d find another way to make me take them. He outsmarted me, making me think the decision was mine to make. He places the pills on my tongue then lifts the water to my mouth, tilting it to let its contents flow past my lips. After he watches me swallow the pills, he notices the hesitant expression on my face.

  “Do you have something you want to ask, Julianna?”

  “I do...I do have one last question.” I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but I’ve always been a curious little shit, or so I’ve been told. “What is a sal..salt—“

  As I try to remember the word Nick had used, confusion crosses his features for a second, then his eyes light up briefly in recognition. “Ah, you mean a saltire?”

  I nod my head, but then remembering his orders, I quickly slip out a, “Yes, sir.”

  He lifts an eyebrow, giving me an almost-worried look. “It’s what they call a St. Andrews Cross, Julianna. Some people use it for erotic bedroom play.”

  Simply wonderful, I think to myself with sarcasm. “And the other ‘some people’?” I know I’m a glutton for punishment, but there it is; I’m too curious for my own good. I just can’t stop while I’m ahead. I’m sure he wishes I wasn’t so inquisitive, because I can see the thought cross over his features as he tries to answer me diplomatically. “The others...well, let’s just say they get a little more creative in nature.”

  I close my eyes tightly, mumbling to myself, “Oh, geez.”

  His index finger lightly taps me on the end of my nose, and at the same time, he grins and playfully says, “Suggest you be a good girl then.” I know he’s trying to ease my nerves, but I don’t find it amusing and I frown. I just want to go home, I want to be back in Adam’s arms.

  Travis looks at me apologetically and lets out a long sigh. “Look, you’ve had a long day. Get some sleep.” He gently caresses the soft skin behind my ear. “I have your alarm already set for 7 am. Fresh clothes and breakfast will be by the end of your bed before you wake up in the morning. I’ll come retrieve you at 8 am sharp.” He raises an eyebrow to let me know he’s serious. “Please be showered, fed, dressed, and ready.”

  I whisper, “Yes, sir,” and drag my eyes away from his handsome face. I get the feeling Travis can be nice and turn on the charm at the drop of a hat when he wants to. He exudes an unpredictability that changes with the flick of a switch. I surmise he can be quite deadly indeed, a stealthy, calculated killer. The thought makes me think I might fear Travis more than I do Nick. At least with Nick, I know what I’m getting by his borderline psychosis of hot-headedness. Knowing anyone or anything can push Nick’s buttons leaves him easily predictable. Definitely not the case with Travis—pushing his buttons can unknowingly lead to activating a ticking time bomb. One wo
uld never know when it’d go off.

  Travis leans over and kisses my forehead, whispering to me, “Thank you, Julianna. Sleep well.”

  Before I can respond, Travis is off the bed and leaving me for the door. When it clicks shut, the lights go out, and those damn dimmer lights turn on behind the red curtains, taunting me. I let out a huge breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I suddenly feel all alone, missing Travis’ comforting presence. I slink my weary body down into the comfort of the covers and sink my head into the soft pillow. I lay there for a long moment trying not to allow myself to think about Adam, Jake, and my dad. My life has spun out of control, and I wait desperately for the sleep medicine to take hold before tears start escaping.

  I tear my thoughts away from honing in on my emotional distress and foolishly begin the denial process, starting with entertaining my mind with make-believe fantasies of escape. Then, I think of the man who was able to wrap me in his illusion of safety with his caring concern—fake or not—while existing in this hostile environment. I close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep.

  I’ve never experienced an adrenaline-rushing, heart-palpitating reaction over the mere sight of a man before. That thought alone has me concerned for my own sanity. I’d felt as if I was being helplessly pulled into a rip tide, its current sweeping me toward a man who is one of my captors. I’ve only had one man in my life romantically, and I can honestly say I never felt that heavy pull when I was with Adam. I’m confused; it was only last night I was in dire straits over Adam, and now my thoughts are in a fist fight, warring over the fact I shouldn’t be this enthralled by Travis. The thing is, I believe he felt the unspoken attraction too, and I have no reasonable explanation as to why.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~Travis~

  Entering the code to gain access to the underground parking lot, I think about all the precautionary measures we’ve taken with security and technology to be able to hide in plain sight. No one would ever guess in a million years this type of cutting-edge science and debauchery was going on in the basement of one of the most prestigious hotels in Atlanta. We have surveillance cameras spread out three-blocks wide surrounding the facility. Either coming or going, there is no way in Hell our fortress can be compromised. Anyone who comes within fifty feet of this building is automatically scanned into our computer system and identified.