Page 15 of A Princess, Stolen (A Kiss of Revenge, Blood, and Love #1)
I sat there tense, my bound hands clenched into fists.
“Want something to drink?” It was the man who had ripped my dress, the leader. His voice seemed an octave lower than Troy’s and it was heavy as if it contained his own dark fate.
Or even mine.
And even though my throat was as scratchy as sandpaper, I turned my face away.
“Don’t play games with me, princess.” Footsteps approached. “I’m only asking once, even if you don’t deserve anything.”
Now I looked in the direction his voice was coming from. “So, what do I deserve?” I asked hoarsely. “To be treated like a hostage? Locked up in a cold hole with no blanket?”
He remained silent but held something that felt like a straw to my lips, and my thirst burned so strongly that I drank. It was water, perhaps even full of poison. In that second, I didn’t care. I sucked on the straw like a dying person.
“To be honest…I personally didn’t think I’d see you here today,” he said, sounding contemptuous, like I was dirt under his nails. “I would have sworn that you would let your father down.”
Despite his ostentatious contempt, he radiated something else. Anger at the respect he gave me for it, whether he wanted to or not. I released the straw from my lips. “I love my dad,” I said, barely audibly since I didn’t want to provoke him.
“Aha!”
I could almost see the corner of his mouth drawn down in disdain and my mind pictured lips like the wing line of flying seagulls.
Did it mean safety or protection for me if he was the boy from Baton Rouge?
Did it mean anything at all? People change over the years.
Maybe nowadays, he was stepping over dead bodies.
And maybe his interest in me had been feigned that summer because he had been interested in something completely different.
I listened to his breathing and smelled him. I wrinkled my nose involuntarily. His pants were probably covered in sea salt and dirt because the smell clung to him like the plague. Besides, everywhere it stank of fish.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I suddenly heard myself say.
“What?” He sounded taken aback. He obviously didn’t think a rich girl was capable of such needs.
“Urgently,” I added quickly before he left and I might have to pee in a corner.
He sighed deeply as if I had asked him to play Chopin for me. “Fine. Fine. Get up!” The last part sounded like an officer’s order, but I ignored the tone. As long as he didn’t drown me or touch me, I didn’t care how he spoke to me. I just wanted to be free again!
I struggled to my knees and pulled myself up when I became tangled in the long dress and fell sideways.
“Damn it, be careful!” Two hands grabbed my upper arms, and before I knew it, I was on my feet. Everything was rocking even more than before, so there must be heavy swells.
My eyes were burning. I should actually be laughing and dancing at my birthday party, not in this hellhole, shaking with fear and cold, not knowing if I would even live to see my twentieth birthday. Or next week.
“I can’t be careful if I can’t see anything,” I replied. I was so dizzy, I was certain I was going to throw up.
Unmoved, the man pulled me forward by my arm. “Get used to it, princess, because that won’t change anytime soon.” His strides were much longer than mine, so I barely kept up, stumbling more than walking.
“How long?” I asked at some point, disorientated.
“We’ll be there soon. Don’t worry, Your Grace.”
“I mean…how long are you going to keep me here?”
He didn’t answer, instead, he pushed something open that creaked, and I was immediately engulfed by such a foul stench that stomach acid rose in my throat. Only a men’s bathroom could smell like that.
“There!” The man pushed me forward and turned me around 180 degrees. “So, do it, princess.” His words dripped with mockery.
I stood there petrified. “How?” I whispered.
He laughed. “Shall I help you?”
“No.” Even I heard the deep horror in my voice. My eyes began to water, but I remained as still as a mouse even though I was crying now. Maybe this was merely the beginning of endless cruelties.
At some point, he sighed again. “It’s okay. I’ll free you and wait outside. But don’t even think about taking off the scarf, do you understand?”
“Yes.” He would leave me alone and that felt like mercy. He stepped behind me and freed me from the binding. Blood rushed to my fingertips as I opened and closed my hands a few times, but the numbness didn’t completely disappear.
“So…” Without asking, he took my hands and placed them on something cold in front of me.
“There’s the sink and behind you is the toilet.
The bathroom”—he lifted my arms and placed my fingers at the edges on each side, surely the walls—“is small, so you won’t get lost.” His fingers were rough and calloused, like those of the boy from Louisiana, but I didn’t want to think about that now.
I felt like a puppet with its strings being pulled, but as I thought that, he let me go.
“I’m going out now. When you’re done, call out. No tricks, no games, okay?”
“Yes.”
“Hands off the blindfold. I’m serious.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
For a moment, he seemed to consider if he could trust me, but shortly afterward, the door creaked shut. I listened intently. Obviously, he could have lied and still be in the room. “Hello?” I asked.
“I’m outside in the hallway, princess!” he replied, sounding muffled.
“Willa,” I whispered almost tonelessly so he wouldn’t hear.
“My name is Willa Nevaeh Rae Hampton, I’m nineteen, and I have been abducted for ransom.
” Only now did I notice that a mosquito was buzzing near my ear and that a light must be flickering because I noticed a rapid change from light to dark.
God, this shipwreck must certainly be ancient with every pipe leaking .
It wasn’t only the men and the smell that was bothering me, but the thought that this tub could sink faster than the Titanic after the fifth chamber had filled.
I needed the next few minutes to pull up my dress, feel for the toilet, and sit in such a way so that I sensed the toilet seat rather than touch it.
My insides contracted in disgust. I didn’t want to know how many mutant bacteria I now had on my fingers.
If the men didn’t kill me, then maybe a dangerous staphylococcus would.
On top of that, I couldn’t pee for ages because I was afraid they were all standing outside the door, listening or about to enter.
At some point, half-sitting, I felt for the sink with the faucet and turned it on so that the flowing water would drown out all noise.
After that, it took an eternity for my frozen fingers to pull up the thousand-dollar lace panties, straighten the dress, and wash my hands. Finally, I stood in the bathroom, reluctant to call out. It was better to be in here, not tied up, with a door between him and me.
Blindly, I turned the faucet on again and let hot water run over my cold fingers.
At least, I had that. Hot water. My only luxury.
I wanted to take a shower now to scrub the dirt, sweat, and fear from my body.
I thought of my light-gray luxurious marble bathroom with columns, fluffy towels, and five soap dispensers. Apricot-vanilla, sandalwood-tonka…
“Ready?” the man at the door asked.
“No!” God, I didn’t want to leave!
I rubbed my hands together, shaking, but a sharp pain startled me. Damn it! I must have cut myself somewhere, at least, it burned like when you got a paper cut.
Clumsily, I searched for the wound and found a spot on my index finger that felt strange.
This stupid blindfold! I want to see something again!
My fingers were wet and I couldn’t find a towel—I couldn’t even tell if it was bleeding. When I rubbed my hands together again under the hot water, I felt something sharp.
Of course! Mom’s ring! I must have cut myself on the rough spot that I noticed in the taxi.
“Hey, princess, are you finished?” the man at the door asked.
“Just a minute,” I called back. I inspected the spot on the jewelry more closely.
It was as sharp as a razor. Maybe one of the diamond prongs was broken.
I quickly turned the ring so that the spot was hidden between my middle and ring finger.
At that moment, the door creaked and I jumped.
“What is taking you so long?” The man entered.
He had an air of authority about him, something threatening that made me feel tiny.
“You’re bleeding,” he said darkly but not impressed. Why did he have to have such a deep voice? It vibrated like a bass in my chest and made me feel like there was no escaping him.
I looked in the direction I didn’t expect him to be. “Yes… I must… It’s an old wound…it must have reopened.” I was a terrible liar.
He grabbed my injured hand, twisted and turned it, and again, I felt the rough skin of his fingers, but this time it triggered nothing but fear.
Luckily, I was wearing the ring on my other hand, so he probably wouldn’t associate it with the wound and take it off me for safety reasons.
I was surprised that they hadn’t confiscated it long ago anyway.
They probably had no idea how much it was worth, spurning it because the supposed few thousand dollars were nothing compared to the millions or even billions they were demanding.
When the man released my hand, I took a deep breath.
“It’s not that bad; at least you won’t bleed to death on us.”
He didn’t give me a bandage, no disinfectant spray, nothing. Instead, he bound my wrists together again and tightened the strap until I gasped, and then he tightened it even more. When he paused, I hoped he would loosen it, but he just said, “Get used to it! That won’t change either.”