Page 26

OPHELIA

I ’m swimming in a sea of cotton candy. Wedging my body through the sticky yet soft waves.

Weird.

When I open my mouth to take a bite, I notice this isn’t what cotton candy is supposed to taste like.

The candy my dad bought me when I was a kid was sweet, not bland. Its color was pink instead of black. When we wandered through the county fair, we didn’t walk through cotton candy. I held it in my hand.

What is this?

Where am I?

Far away from home.

The realization swoops over me, a wave crashing me to shore.

I haven’t been to my apartment in a while. I’m not four, either. This isn’t a county fair.

Mom and Dad’s hands aren’t gripping mine as we stroll through the stands.

I’m lying down in a bed that isn’t mine.

My eyes are glued shut. Exhaustion does that. Weighing me down.

I’m navigating through the fog of deep sleep. I’m trying to climb out of it.

There’s no telling how long I’ve been under. Feels like a long time.

Feels like I needed it desperately.

I’m so tired that my limbs won’t work.

You’re not safe here.

This is my second conscious thought.

And I believe myself. I act accordingly too. No sudden movements. No screaming that would give away the fact that I’m awake.

I have to remember what happened to me. Why I’m here.

I do.

Topher and his dad locked me in a cell. Baylor. The auction. His dad bought me. His dad brought me back to the cell. He’s been torturing me there. Taking care of me there.

He’s been mean and cruel. He’s been my only human connection during my time in captivity.

Truth is, he’s been the only person to look after me in a really long time. In his cold, unhinged way, he’s given me what no one has since my parents were alive.

He’s not safe.

He still has secrets. I passed out before he could finish his story. Either that or he would’ve told me it was none of my business.

This is the real problem, isn’t it? When he doesn’t feel like sharing, he closes off.

He’ll keep things from me, and I won’t know what I’m going up against until it’s too late.

Putting my life in this madman’s hands isn’t just a risk. It’s a suicide mission.

Sure, he hasn’t killed me. Yet.

He hasn’t been interested in my consent, either.

Then again, he didn’t like it when I told him I hated him.

Ugh, I’ll go crazy if I think about it for another second. Worse still, these thoughts won’t be what gets me out of here.

Wherever here is.

What is this room, exactly?

Sure as fuck doesn’t feel like the bed in my cell. The sheets are too soft. The bed is too warm.

Where did James put me now?

I’m still in the mansion; I’m positive about that.

James is a controlling, possessive psycho. He won’t ever give me to anyone else.

Little by little, as inconspicuously as possible, I open my eyes. I notice, lying on my side, that I’m on a firm bed.

In front of me is a set of large, arched windows. Rain patters on the glass.

Silver moonbeams filter into the room, offering just enough light for me to see the leather armchair in the corner. The thick, dark rug that covers most of the floor. The fireplace.

A few feet ahead, there are double doors that lead to another room or the hallway. A bathroom, possibly. They’re smaller than the other doors in the mansion, at least the ones on the main floor.

A lock of hair has fallen over my cheek sometime during the night. I notice that as well, and it doesn’t look greasy like it did yesterday.

Another clue as to what happened to me while I’ve been out. For no other reason but sheer curiosity, I sniff my hair. A manly scent seeps in.

I press my lips shut to silence a gasp.

He washed me.

Oh my God.

A comforting thought slices through the rising panic. He hasn’t fucked me. I clench my thighs, and nothing hurts. I’m sensitive, not sore.

Except it isn’t as comforting as I would like.

Because a man’s arm is draped over me. I feel it now that I’m fully awake.

I swallow around the lump in my throat.

James’s arm. His tattooed hand presses possessively over my stomach.

Oh my God.

Fear, darker than this room, darker than the night outside, clutches onto my lungs. Locks my throat.

James took me out of the cell.

Hasn’t raped me.

And now he’s cuddling me in what has to be his bed.

Why?

The why is important. The why is crucial.

It’s another game. Just another game.

Even if I’ve grown on him, the same way he’s managed to crawl under my skin.

I did fuck with his head, his words, not mine.

He’s going to punish me. Hurt me.

Kill me.

Have any idea why you’re here? Know who was the last woman I held captive?

Topher’s mom. His dead mom.

I’m going to be sick.

“Ophelia.”

The scream that bursts out of me is deafening. My hands become claws, nails scratching and digging into his perfect, lean, and veiny forearm.

It’s all instincts. All my will to fight and survive this.

He’s strong, yanking me to the front of his body. My naked back molds into his naked stomach as I keep digging my nails into his arm.

Naked.

I’m completely naked. His hard body is too.

“Let me go.” Common sense slips away as one thought after the other assault me. I want to be with him. I shouldn’t. He kidnapped me. He could throw me back in the cell. Have to get out. Have…to…get…out. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me go!”

“Shh.” James slides his hand up to my breastbone. Large, strong fingers press between my breasts. Unmoving. Warming. Comforting. What the hell is this? Another trick. Of course it is. “Shh. Stop screaming. Breathe. Just breathe. You’re safe.”

His voice is bare of emotions. Which, I guess, is smart of him.

I would’ve thought he was manipulating me if he sounded too soft. Too harsh, and I’d be sure he’d kill me.

But he is lying.

Safe?

I’m not safe.

How can he say that after he hung me on that hook? After he looked furious down there in the cell?

And how the hell did Topher’s mom die?

This panic isn’t helping. He’s right about one thing. I have to breathe. Can’t afford to pass out again.

I stuff the panic down. Suck in air. Exhale slowly.

This goes on for minutes. His hand rises and falls with each one of my breaths, with his chin resting protectively on the top of my head.

Better.

I’m better.

Thanks to him.

No, I won’t be grateful to him. Fuck him. Fuck his help.

In a few hours, he’ll take it away. While I’ll be left heartbroken.

I swallow a whimper, swallow the tears. His chest is warm, and I give up. I relax into him. Only for tonight. Because he doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to kill me.

“That’s it.” His hand slides down my stomach. “Good girl, Ophelia. Rest.”

Tremors rake through me at his touch. At how he drags me closer, pinning me to the hard panes of his body. He keeps pulling me into him, but he’s not trying to fuck me.

He could. I might even let him.

My body shivers harder at the terrifying notion.

“What are you doing?” I whisper when I can’t stand the silence any longer.

“Holding on to my property. In my bed.”

God, it’s embarrassing. I’m wet for him. For being called his property. For being debased like this, by him. I can’t stop arching my back, needing the feel of him against my ass.

“It isn’t that simple, James.” Though my body has succumbed to my needs, my head hasn’t. I have to figure out what’s going on. “Why am I here? In this room?”

His lips press onto my hair. As he inhales deeply, I shudder in his arms. “I’m not sure, Ophelia. I haven’t been sure about many things for a while now.”

“You showered me.” When life stops making sense, best to stick to the facts. Until he’s comfortable around me. Until I don’t teeter on the verge of losing my mind.

At the rate this is going, I will.

Topher’s mom. He killed her. They had Topher, and then…

Could this be what he was trying to tell me? That I’m facing an identical fate?

Later. I’ll freak out later, alone. Can’t afford to have a meltdown around him. Can’t let him hear me screaming my head off.

He’ll see my weakness. He’ll throw me back in the cell.

“I bathed you.” Tingles break across my skin when he lowers his fingertips. When he brushes them along my hip bone and stays there. He seduces me, and like a fool, I fall for it. For this monster. My owner. “In my bathtub. You were asleep the entire time.”

The entire time .

“How long have I been out?” Dread lines the bottom of my stomach. James senses it, the bastard, pressing his hand harder against me. Rocking his hips into my ass, once, his cock hard. “You drugged me?”

“You’ve been out the entire day. And no.” His lips travel lower, to my shoulder. They, like the rest of him, are a threat. “You were exhausted. Wouldn’t wake up. Before you ask, though you probably feel it, the answer is no. I didn’t take your virgin pussy.”

“You did something else.” I’m hyperventilating. He dips his fingertips lower. Toward my center. Just an inch. “You did something to me.”

“No, I did not.” He brushes his nose along my shoulder.

So soft, so out of character, that I gasp.

“I understand that being drenched for me confuses you. That you hate it. But I didn’t do anything remotely inappropriate, though I could have.

You’re the one who’s desperate for it. Your body is begging me to fuck you.

To lick your cunt. That’s all you. The only thing I did was bathe you and tuck you in. ”

I gulp. Freeze. Shame lodges in my throat, and I can’t speak.

He knows. I’m so wet from him teasing the area just above my pussy. It’s impossible to deny it.

“Bastard. You’re hard from humiliating me.”

“Owning you gets me hard.” His teeth break my skin. Blood trickles from where he’s biting me, but I don’t scream. My mouth clamps shut. My body bows to get closer to him. Fuck. “And humiliating you.”

Very little courage is left in my weary body. Little, not nothing. With my back to him and the rain as our background noise, I summon it.

It’s now or never. “Is that what you did with Topher’s mom? Manipulated her into liking you until she gave birth to your son? Then you killed her?”