Page 36 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Scarlett

D espite my best efforts to stay awake just to spite Monster, I unfortunately fall right asleep. I awaken a few times to him putting a finger clip on my index finger and resting his hand over my heart. Not even my nudity and the fact that he’s touching me so freely fully wakes me up.

Once I’m back in bed, which seems to have become a prison of its own, Monster asks me what I want for dinner.

“We have several private chefs on staff,” he tells me. “They’re phenomenal cooks. Truly. Boyce stole them out from under Michelin-starred kitchens. They can make you whatever you want.”

“And yet you fed me that lumpy porridge every day while I was in the cell?” I respond drily. “Yeah. Their culinary finesse seems unmatched. ”

“None of that,” Monster says calmly, not rising to my jab. “That’s in the past. Now, you’ll get the best.”

“The best is freedom.”

“The best short of freedom, then.” Monster pauses. “Look, you won’t always be confined to the compound. After a while, I’m sure we can arrange to go on a trip back into civilization, but that won’t be any time soon, and that is an extremely high-level privilege you’ll have to work hard to earn.”

“Hard work?” I echo. “Then my application is ready. Your Honor, I’d like to turn the court’s attention to exhibit A; the endless days I spent being tortured.

I’d like to note that research suggests most people in my position would’ve broken and just told the captors what they want to hear, but I held out.

Secondly, I’d like the court to take a look at exhibit B, which showcases how I tolerated my captor’s decision to turn me from a torture toy into a sex toy.

” Monster doesn’t even try to hide his smile, and for once, it doesn’t piss me off.

“Is that enough in terms of earning a trip back to society?”

“Though your case is quite compelling, unfortunately, your resilience isn’t what’s required to earn that particular privilege. Instead, you’ll have to earn it through proving your loyalty.”

“Loyalty,” I snort. “Loyalty to you ?”

“Correct,” Monster confirms. “Loyalty to me. I think the first step there is trust, and we’ll continue working on it. Now, what do you want for dinner?”

“A cheeseburger and fries,” I deadpan.

Monster doesn’t catch my sarcasm. “Coming right up—”

“I’m kidding. I don’t think my stomach will accept more than two bites of it. If you can get me soup that is more interesting than chicken-noodle, that’d be great. ”

Monster nods. “Alright. I’ll be back soon.” He leans in to kiss my nose again, but I crane my neck away, so his lips land on my jaw. We both tense at the same time. Him, probably out of surprise; me, because his lips on my skin don’t feel completely terrible. They’re actually kind of… nice.

He pulls away after a frozen moment. I don’t have the strength to turn and look at him again.

“Right,” he says quietly. “I’ll be back with your soup, m’lady.”

As quickly as he appeared, he disappears, as silent as always. I swallow hard and try to ignore the odd sense of loss that washes over me.

And then, I force myself to think. To truly think.

Monster is mercurial. I don’t know if that’s because of his general personality, or because he’s stuck in a spiral of grief. Either way, that makes him dangerous, but it also makes him vulnerable.

If I want to get out of here, that will unfortunately mean gaining some measure of his trust. I’m a shit actress, so I can’t fake my way through this, which means I’ll be forced to do something much worse.

I have to actually find small, controlled ways to give into him.

He has tricks up his sleeves when it comes to my body that make me soften, and I need to open myself to softening toward him in other ways.

Feed the small threads of empathy I feel for him.

Focus on what we have in common rather than our past.

That’s the only way out I can see. It’ll mean making myself do what I really don’t want to do, and learning to endure whatever Monster plans to do with my body.

It can’t be entirely an act, because I’ll break character too quickly…

so I need to push myself in the wrong direction while keeping sight of my true goals and aspirations.

The more Monster trusts me, the more lenient he’ll become. He’s said as much himself. If I can’t fake gaining his trust, I need to actually gain it, and the only way to do that is to build a connection with him .

With the monster who wanted to kill me a matter of days ago.

It’ll be difficult. It’ll be painful. It’ll take every inch of my capacity to endure pain and trauma—both emotional and physical. But there’s a slim possibility I can pull it off, all the while never losing sight of my end goal.

I need to start in small ways. Pull back on antagonizing Monster while learning more about him, and shielding the facts about my life that I don’t want to share.

We both grew up with brothers who were our closest friends, that’s a good starting point.

I’ll never admit that I have a brother, of course, but I can internally find a way to humanize Monster by focusing on that.

Beyond our familial connections… I’ll just have to see. We have similar views on religion, which means we might have similar views in other things. Maybe on politics, economics, art, or history… whatever it is, I have to find it.

Being receptive, even active with learning about Monster while divulging tailored facts about myself should start me on earning his trust. But since I don’t see how I can ever trust him , that won’t help me much when I’m healed enough that he decides it’s time to start having sex with me.

Sexually training me. That’ll be a battle of its own, possibly the biggest internal battle I’ll ever have to wage.

I don’t know how I’ll cope with it, but I know I have to find a way.

I won’t be able to hold him off forever.

“Okay,” I say to myself quietly. “Alright. You can do this.”

“You can do what?” Monster steps into the room, carrying a tray with what looks like tomato soup and freshly sliced bread. Crap, I didn’t even hear him walk into the apartment.

“I was trying to hype myself up to take a shower,” I lie. “Thought you’d be gone longer. ”

“No showers—you can’t get your thigh wet while it’s healing, and besides, standing for long periods of time will exhaust you and possibly fuck with your oxygen.

” Monster sets the tray down on the bed.

I notice there are two bowls and two plates of bread, with a small dish of butter.

Maybe he’ll actually let me eat on my own this time?

“We’ll take a bath after dinner. I want you to eat every spoonful. ”

“Does that mean your benevolent overlordship plans to allow me to feed myself like an actual human?” Despite my determination to start shifting the narrative between us, I can’t resist my snark. Lucky for me, Monster actually seems to prefer and enjoy it.

“Yes. Sometimes I’ll want you to eat from my hands; other times you’ll be permitted to do it yourself. Depends on the situation and on my mood. If your preference leans one way or the other, let me know. It won’t necessarily change things, but I’ll take it under consideration.”

I almost open my mouth to affirm that I will always prefer to eat myself, that I’m not a goddamn baby who needs to be spoon fed, but I keep my snark to myself.

“Do you like to cook?” Monster asks me. “My kitchen doesn’t really get much use, so once you’re better—”

“I’m not going to be a captive housewife. I’m the type of cook who burns water—the only thing I can make is a mean bowl of cereal, and only for myself.”

Monster hides a smile. Thank God he seems to enjoy my sass in certain doses. Or, maybe that’s just his mercurial nature; sometimes he’ll love it, other times, I’ll get punished for it. Damnit, I really need to start getting a sense of who he is.

“Fair enough. I don’t expect you to be a housewife, I was just offering,” he says affably. “I have one condition for letting you eat on your own. ”

“Of course you do,” I mutter.

“You have to tell me about your father.”

My eyes snap up, meeting his. There’s no leniency in his expression. He’s serious. He’s going to make me dredge up my childhood trauma.

I could refuse and escalate. I could tell him to go fuck himself.

Or… I could suck it up and just go through with it.

Treat it like an assignment, like an unpleasant job that has to be done.

If I fight it, there’s no telling what he’ll do.

Probably make me stay naked for longer. If I don’t, though, I might earn a bit of goodwill.

“What do you want to know?” I ask tonelessly.

“Everything you know.”

“I don’t know much that would be of value to you. Business was rarely discussed in front of me, and even the little I overheard is out of date. I haven’t seen him for years.”

Monster nods. “That’s fine. I’ll learn about his business in other ways. I want to know about what it was like growing up with him. How did he treat you? What did he do? What was your life like?”

“If you want me to dredge up childhood trauma, then I want the dignity of getting some clothes.”

“No,” Monster says. “Ask again and you won’t get any tomorrow, either. Refuse to talk, and you get to eat in your favorite way; being fed from my hands.”

Bastard.

I close my eyes for a moment. Try to sift through my childhood memories with a detached, clinical mindset. Open them again.