Page 4 of Creep (Vulture Hollow MC #2)

Angel

Saliva has soaked through the gag and is drizzling down my chin as I sob, trapped by a pair of vice-strong hands.

I tried running, I really did, but he stopped me with an ease that made me feel like a baby unable to escape the control of its much stronger, larger parent.

I’m a doll he can manipulate into whatever position he wants, and this blatant proof of my weakness is terrifying.

He zip-tied me, gagged me, then put a blindfold on my eyes and walked me out into the fields, where I fully expected to die.

But an endless time later, I am still breathing, my thighs squeeze a trembling heap of metal, and the demon man’s sturdy chest is pressed to my back.

When he put a helmet on me, I was certain it was a torture device, but for some reason he doesn’t want me to break my skull on the way to his lair.

I dread to think what that reason might be, and yet I’m too much of a coward to force his hand, tip over and throw myself to the asphalt.

At the speed we’re going, it would be suicide.

I’ve lost my sense of time. It extends into eternity. If someone told me we’ve been riding all night and we’re out of Oregon, I’d believe them. Unfortunately, the void in my mind is easily filled with fears and other unwanted thoughts.

That my abductor’s been hired to procure a blond twink and I just happened to be his choice.

That I’ll be taken to Tacoma, put in a shipping container with other condemned souls to be the star of a snuff video.

That he himself is taking me away so he can rape me in peace, because otherwise… Why. Did. He. Lick. Me?

My legs tremble when we stop. I could try running again, but I smell the forest, hear the hoot of an owl. With my luck, I’d just run into a tree and get a concussion.

And why now ? My horoscope for this week was actually pretty hopeful.

And so was the fast tarot reading I did on Sunday.

It promised a new beginning, which I hoped meant I would find some cash at the bottom of the drawer, or perhaps get a job offer that would let me ditch one of my three useless sugar daddies.

But no. Apparently, I’ve been way too optimistic in my reading of the cards.

I try to speak, hoping my abductor will get curious enough to remove the gag, but no such luck. He does take off my helmet though, and the relief of feeling fresh air on my sweaty skin is enough to make me sob.

He stalls, then pulls me against him and strokes my head, uttering a soft shush as his fingers briefly pull at my earring.

I’m not a dog. And yet… the gentle touch does soothe me way more than I’m comfortable to admit. He’s either really not intending to hurt me, or even more of a psycho than I assumed.

I’ve always had an overactive imagination, and it drifts off on its own to a fantasy where he’s a father in debt to the Mafia, his child was abducted, and the only way for him to pay them off is give them someone else.

He doesn’t want to, and suffers at this impossible choice, so he’s trying to soothe his victim despite his heart being torn up about what he needs to do.

It doesn’t make sense with the whole licking thing though. I need to reconsider the plot holes in my story.

In the end, he nudges me away and wraps his arm around my waist to lead me. I could of course give him hell with a struggle, but he has the strength to subdue me, and that could lead to a world of pain, so I choose to remain docile for now.

We walk for quite a while, and he doesn’t say a word. We eventually stop, there’s some kind of clang, stairs that go down, more of what sounds like padlocks. I sob into my gag again, because the reality is too much. I’m not good with handling pain, and that’s what I expect in my future.

I’m sure he’s led me to some kind of basement, but we keep going, and the scent of damp changes, becoming deeper, colder, more… earthy somehow.

I’m confused until my foot hits something, and he squeezes my nape. “Now, we’ll crawl. Be careful, so you don’t fall,” he says in that distant yet gravelly voice that sounds like an echo coming from a long-disused pipe.

Fall? Fall? Seriously?

I whine and move my zip-tied hands until my fingers find his soft leather jacket. I don’t plan to cry, but a sob tears from my throat, because I’m so damn scared it’s making my body feel like it’s about to shut down. But my captor is merciless and nudges me forward, until I’m on my hands and knees.

The uneven surface under my palms is made of smooth rock, and once again I have to question where we actually are. Is this… a cave? Why would he bring me someplace like this if he has anything but bad intentions?

This time, my mind reimagines him not as the Mafia-indebted dad but a straight-up ghoul. He is taking me to his vampire master, and no one can convince me otherwise. Because who else lives in a fucking cave and needs human sacrifice?

I try to keep track of which way we’re turning, in case I get the chance to retrace these steps, but it’s a lost cause. I’m confused by the smells, I’m jumpy at each of his nudges, and Adam’s gruesome death replays in my head all too often for me to focus.

For all I know, we’ve been traversing this underground dungeon for hours when I hear locks again. My whimpers are for nothing, so I await my fate. My jailor leads me farther on, and this time there’s more of an… echo? And even the air feels fresher, as if the space we’ve reached is more cavernous.

Another push makes me lose balance and I fall… onto a bed.

Of course. This will be my life now until I wither away or he gets bored.

Water drips somewhere in the distance, but the scent here is more pleasant, even if I can’t put my finger on it. Like moss? The man moves near-soundlessly, but I eventually hear him scratch against a surface, perhaps writing something down?

I shiver when he touches me again, wrapping my wrists with soft rope despite already using the zip-tie. I try pleading the only way I can, with a pathetic whine, but it’s fucking pointless, since he will do as he pleases anyway.

Something slips under the plastic cuff, ripping it open. I freeze when my captor moves away hurriedly, as if he’s desperate to put some distance between us. I hear the faintest click of a lock, and it becomes obvious that I’m on my own.

That’s it? He’s left me here?

My fingers tremble, breath coming faster as I listen to the dwindling footsteps, but even when I can no longer hear him, the fear of breaking some unnamed rule keeps me still. At least until something in me snaps, and I push up the blindfold.

It is a cave, all right—windowless, with rock for the ceiling—but also, somehow… a bedroom. The light comes from under two silk lampshades which seem like something an old lady would buy, not the demonic creature who’s abducted me.

Heat flushes my cheeks as I stare at the thick Turkish-style rug covering the floor.

It overlaps with another one farther on, red and golden, but I’m puzzled to see more of those traditional carpets hung on the walls like tapestries in a Soviet apartment.

I once read the wool makes for good insulation from the cold, but I still fail to understand why go through all the effort of making a cavern liveable when one could move into a house?

Unless this man is wanted. On the run from the police, or one of those people who disappeared and wants to never be found again. But if that’s the case then why… why would he take me?

The answer is obvious, and it makes me shake all over as I wiggle my hands, trying to loosen the rope tying them together.

It doesn’t take me long to realize that my captor didn’t make the knots difficult to unravel.

He wanted me to free myself. Soon enough, I’m as free as I can be, with the soggy gag out of my mouth at last.

The cave is the size of four rooms, the ceiling is high, and it smells of the stone walls, old books, but also of…

chocolate? Cocoa? Even the bed I’m sitting on is an absurd choice for a place like this.

The frame is sturdy, the intricately carved headboard worn smoother by age.

Above it hangs an unsettling (in these circumstances) whimsical Victorian painting of four child angels shepherding a black wolf.

The wardrobe nearby is an antique, but it must have been brought in here in pieces going by how crudely it's been put together. A comfy armchair with worn upholstery sits next to three bookshelves filled to the brim, and several stacks of books crowd the floor, as if awaiting additional storage. A cup stands on the coffee table next to them. So… he’s a reader?

Okay. Maybe we can bond over that while I plot my escape.

As I walk around, I realize the smell comes from chocolate-scented candles placed in a few jars around the room.

I also come across a terrarium filled with moss and mushrooms. It’s quite pretty, but when something moves inside it, I decide to keep my distance.

My abductor seems like just the kind of man who’d keep a pet spider.

It doesn’t take me long to also find a letter left for me on a small table.

"I need to go deal with things. Rest. I will provide you with food tomorrow. Don't try to run away. Even if you did manage to force the door, it would be VERY dangerous for you out there. Restroom is behind the green door.

Sorry."

Like that fucking explains anything.