Page 27 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

“All done.” Monster releases my arm. “You’ll need that every night for a few nights.”

“And I don’t get a choice.” My words are resigned, filled with a hopelessness that creeps over the edges of my consciousness and drags me into a deep pit.

“Not when it comes to your health.” Monster sets the tray over my lap, its legs resting on either side of my thighs. When I reach for the spoon, he arches an eyebrow and shakes his head disapprovingly. I swallow back a retort about being able to feed myself. The argument just isn’t worth it.

“I had to do this for my brother a few times,” he says quietly, piquing my interest. He carefully swirls the spoon around the soup, lifts up a spoonful, and blows on it.

“Sam was good. Very good. Good enough that he got sent on some of the most dangerous ops. I went with him whenever I could to have his back, but that wasn’t always the case.

” He holds the spoon up to my lips. I’m invested enough in learning more about him that I part my lips without protest and accept the offering.

Monster’s eyes glitter with something that looks a lot like approval, but before that can piss me off, he continues talking.

“There was one op in specific that was bad. Sam went into a safehouse to kill three marks, unaware that it was rigged with explosives. He found out when the entire place blew up while he was just exiting it. The impact sent him flying. He broke most of his ribs, bruised his lungs, damn near ruptured his internal organs… but he survived. We got him back here, the doc fixed him up and put him on three months of bedrest. I took the time off so I could look after him.” Monster feeds me another spoonful, followed by a piece of bread.

I remain silent, waiting for him to reveal more about himself.

I’m not sure why I’m so interested to learn about him; maybe it’s because finding things out humanizes him.

Whatever the case, I want to hear more. “Sam and I were all each other ever really had, until we were recruited to the Nighthawks. Seeing him knocking on death’s door…

” he shakes his head. “It was soul-shattering to me. So, I threatened him to stay in bed and took care of him. He hated it, of course, but he got better. Made a full recovery.” A sad smile steals across Monster’s lips.

“I knew he’d have done the same for me.”

The spoon clinks loudly against the bowl, and I startle when I realize the soup is gone. I ate all of it while listening to him. There’s only one slice of bread left, as well. I was distracted enough to let him feed me double the size of what I could eat on my own.

I don’t know what that says about me, but surely nothing good.

“Good girl,” Monster says. “Soon, you’re going to tell me about yourself, too.”

“Am I? ”

“Yes.” Monster nods. “I want to learn about you.”

“The feeling is very much unreciprocated.”

Even though I’m being dead serious, Monster must find my words amusing, because he smiles.

“Right. Anyways… bedtime. I’m going to take a quick shower.

” His eyes dart to the water bottle. Something like shame flashes into them as he looks back to my chest and sighs.

Maybe he genuinely does feel guilty for waterboarding me mercilessly, but it doesn’t change what he did.

“Try to, uh, drink as much water as you can.” He grimaces. “Hydration is important.”

“I’ve already learned how enthusiastic you are about water intake.” I can’t resist the quip. I won’t stop subtly reminding him of what he did, especially when I see hints of guilt that I could capitalize on.

“That’s in the past.” Monster’s eyes harden and his grimace wipes away.

I nod. “Right. Less than a week in the past. Totally a bygone.”

He reaches out and strokes my bottom lip. I can’t help my flinch.

“You’ll learn that you don’t need to be afraid of me unless you’ve misbehaved,” he says softly. “And even then, the punishments won’t be pain. I promise.”

“Your words are so touching,” I deadpan. “Especially since they’re supported by a complete absence of facts.”

“You’re funny.” His lips quirk. “I like that.” He strokes my bottom lip one more time, then disappears into the bathroom.

I’m half-asleep by the time he reemerges, and he climbs right into bed beside me. Rather than sliding under the blankets, he’s brought a new one that he covers both of us with.

“Too hot,” I mumble.

“Alright.” He readjusts the blanket so it’s just covering him. It takes me a moment to realize that he got an extra blanket because he didn’t want to make me move. Strangely considerate of him .

He arranges a few pillows under his head and shifts to get comfortable, even though he’s un comfortably close.

Barely a few inches of space separate us.

Then, he wipes the single positive thought I’ve had about him thus far away by wrapping his hand around my breast. Even though it’s a struggle, I lift my arms to try to bat him away.

“Stop that.” He grabs my wrists in his free hand and gentles them down to my stomach. “I need to feel your heart. I need to make sure its rhythm stays consistent.”

“How considerate. And my discomfort, along with the fact that your touch raises my heart rate , counts for nothing?”

“Of course it counts for something, but it’s a barrier that needs to be overcome.

The sooner the better. You’ll sleep with my hand right where it is.

Soon, you’ll sleep wrapped in my arms.” As if to accentuate his point, he gives my breast a squeeze.

I gasp. Then, he does the unthinkable , and brushes his thumb over my nipple.

A small noise, almost like a whimper, escapes me.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Responsive. I’m going to have fun playing with that.”

Tears well in my eyes. I’ve repeatedly confronted the reality that I’m going to be forced to have sex at some point in the too-near future.

The innocence that I’ve spent so much effort safeguarding will be ripped away from me by this man.

I’ve confronted this fact, but being faced with the reality of his hands on my body is too much—it’s too frightening.

I know my hormone levels are completely out of whack, and I’ve spent the last two weeks undergoing horrible torture, so I can’t keep my emotions in check. I’m terrified .

So I burst into tears. I try to keep them silent, keep my painful sobs muffled, but I can’t.

It’s too much too soon. Everything all at once crashes into me.

My life is gone. I’ll probably never see my brother, the one person I care about, again.

I’ll be chained to the monster who gave me sermons containing his detailed fantasies of killing me.

I can only imagine his creative sadism outside the bedroom will translate heavily into the bedroom, regardless of his lies that he’ll never hurt me again.

So I won’t just be having sex when I don’t want to, I’ll also endure more pain.

It's just too much.

Monster makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid looking at him, to pretend he isn’t here, but I can’t.

His hand on my breast shifts to my shoulder, and suddenly, he’s leaning over me, wrapping me in an embrace.

I try to shove at him to get away, but he doesn’t budge, and I wouldn’t have the strength to move him even if I wasn’t pneumonic, infected, and depleted.

So, I cry right into his soft shirt. The cotton steals the tears from my cheeks and in return gives me a whiff of strangely comforting cologne.

My own weakness only makes me cry harder, and all the while, Monster quietly shushes me and promises that everything will be okay. Everything will work out.

I fall asleep like that. Caged in his arms, crying my heart out, grieving for what I’ve been through and what I’ll have to go through.

And knowing that the worst is far from over.