Page 12 of The Wolf

Poppy

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I felt a tickle across my forehead and swatted it away. The tickle came back, soft as a feather. I swatted at it again.

“Poppy, wake up.”

I jolted awake, pushing myself up quickly. Vega was sitting next to me with a plate of food. “Jesus. Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?” I asked, shaken by his sudden appearance.

“I didn't sneak up on you. You were passed out. You probably haven't slept like that in days.”

“You're right. I haven't. I wonder why that is?” I eyed him with an accusatory glare.

“I detect a hint of sarcasm.” He thinned his lips as he set the plate down on the stool. “Poppy, you're going to have to come to terms with this. You're here, and there's nothing you can do to change it. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

“How the fuck can I come to terms with this? I don't even know what the hell this is. Or why I'm in this at all!” I flailed my arms around with the grace of an inflatable in the wind.

“Look, you're not going to believe me when I tell you this, but I am trying to help you.”

“You call this help?” I threw out a single arm as I looked around at the sad excuse for his version of help.

“On what planet would anyone call this helping someone?” I jumped from the cot and stood so close to him that my toes touched his shiny black shoes.

“I tried to be nice! I tried so hard to see if you had any good in you.

But you kidnapped me! You took me without permission!

You keep me locked up in this room! And you want me to think you're helping me? You're fucking insane.”

Vega laughed as his jaw clicked back and forth.

“You don't have any idea what I've done for you. You want to see what taking you without permission would really look like?” His giant hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in so our chests touched.

Vega's eyes danced between mine, his thoughts visible and wicked.

My eyes lingered on his, moving down to his mouth. He licked his lips. The faint scent of cologne slipped into my nose, turning on a feral instinct inside me. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel and taste him.

The man I met at the gala, with the dimples and nice smile, the handsome eyes, and the smooth voice, was all I could see. For a split second, I forgot where I was and what he had done. My mind flipped with shadowed memories of his fingers inside my body and how good that made me feel.

His thumb stroked my lower back as he reached up with his other hand to touch my cheek. Vega slid his knuckles down my jawline and tipped my head so I was looking at him again.

“You should fear me, but you don't. If you were smart, you would. People don't call me the Wolf for no reason.”

What the hell is wrong with me? I shook myself back to reality.

I hated myself for thinking about his lips and his hands. For feeling it. For wanting it. I really was fucked up in the head. What other explanation was there for wanting a monster?

Maybe it was because of the restricted life I lived.

Or the whispers that would float between walls as easily as mold through a vent.

Whispers that painted me and my mother as freaks.

When I got older and my father finally decided to bring me into his world, I saw how people looked at me.

I saw the side-eyed glances and felt the weight of the room when I walked in.

But my father promised me I wouldn't end up like her, that I was different.

I am different. I can get myself out of this mess. I sucked in a ragged breath, held it briefly, and then let it go. “I don't think you're as bad of a guy as you say you are. If you were, I'd be dead.”

“You're right about that. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead.”

“Then why take me? Why am I here? What the hell do you want from me?!” I yelled, slamming my fists against his chest. “Kill me already! Just get it over with!” I hit him again and again. “You obviously want something from me, so fucking take it! What the hell are you waiting for?”

Vega didn't budge. His arm stayed around my back, and his hand came up to capture my face. “Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” he asked.

My jaw clenched tight, eyes turning to slits. “No. I don't want to die.”

“Then why ask for it?”

“What else is there?”

Vega bit his lip, tugging it with the edges of his teeth. “You shouldn't put ideas in my head.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I asked bluntly.

He leaned in slightly, bringing his lips so close to mine they were almost touching. I could smell the scent of mint on his breath. His hand gently caressed my cheek, and his other hand massaged the dip in my lower back.

Kiss me. My mind flashed to the gala. Touch me. Take me. . .

No! What the fuck am I thinking!

A war had begun. The push and pull of want and disgust were battling.

The hate I felt was cradled with desire.

My body grew warm. My sex pulsed. Every nerve exploded with screams to push him away and pleas for his lips against mine.

My stomach rolled with butterflies and knots.

Fire burned between my thighs with hate and lust.

I had the urge to slap myself, but instead, I attempted to slap him. He dodged my strike, so I punched his chest and tried to shove him off me. “Let me go,” I snarled.

Vega leaned in. “I will, but,” he whispered. There was a long pause. Long enough for me to hear each breath he took.

His words vibrated over my lips, making my knees shake. Whatever trance he was putting on me, I had to break it. There was no room for this right now. I couldn't yearn for my captor. I had to hate him. I needed to despise him.

The hook he was dangling had somehow pierced my chest and was reeling me in. I couldn't take it anymore. No matter what my body said, I had to stay in control.

“This isn't fair,” I said. Vega loosened his grip, and I took a step back.

“Life isn't fair. Most people know that. But most of those people don't grow up with a silver fucking spoon in their mouth.”

“You have no idea what my life has been like,” I growled.

“So what if I had money. Money doesn't equal happiness.

It can buy a lot of things, but sorrow isn't solid.

It can pass through fancy clothes and expensive jewelry.

It can infiltrate the strongest walls and rip you to pieces.

Suffering doesn't stop with dollar signs.”

“You know what true suffering is?” Vega asked with an air of arrogance. He was looking at his hands, opening and closing them repeatedly. “It's watching someone die. Have you ever watched someone die?” he asked as his eyes found their way back to mine.

I stood silently. How much information should I tell him? How much did he deserve to know? He hadn't earned my suffering. He had done nothing to earn the right to know the pain I lived with.

“Yes. I have,” I said clearly and sternly. “I watched my mother die. Who did you watch die?”

What did any of that matter now anyway? It was in the past. There was nothing I could do to change that.

I couldn't bring her back. No one could.

It was time for me to own my suffering. Speak it out loud and make it real.

I spent years in denial, living my life as if I'd get to see my mother again one day.

Being in this place made me realize there was no one watching out for me. There was no God. There was no Heaven. There was nothing. Because if there was, my mother would have rushed in to protect me.

Vega watched me carefully. His eyes traveled around my face, searching for falsehood. I was being brutally honest. I had no reason to lie to him. Let him see me truly vulnerable. Let him see the human side of me. Let him see Poppy, the person, and not just a toy for his sick game.

“Your turn,” I said.

Vega's eyes steadied on mine. I watched them turn to ice, allowing my reflection to peer back at me. There were dark bags under my eyes. My lips were dry and cracked like brittle plastic. It was me, but it didn't look like me.

I must have let out a soft gasp because Vega flicked his eyes to the floor and said, “Forget it. Just eat your breakfast.”

Tears bubbled up over my eyes. I blinked rapidly, wiping them away. “I'm not doing this anymore. Give me some fucking answers!”

“Sit down and eat!” he yelled back, pointing at the cot. “Or should I go get you some help again?”

My eyes burned to keep crying, but I was so angry I refused to let them out. I dropped down onto the bed, forked some scrambled eggs into my mouth, and bit the toast. “There. Happy now, asshole?” I asked. Crumbs spurted from my mouth and stuck to my lips.

Vega reached out and ran his thumb across my lips, wiping away the crumbs. I shivered. There was nothing I could do to stop it. And he felt it. Vega's mouth curled to one side. The dimple emerged, sucking all the air from my lungs.

“Yes, I'm very happy.” His phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Aren't you going to get that?” I asked. “Might be important.”

He chuckled as he pulled out the phone and glanced at it. “I doubt it.”

“Well, who is it?” I asked as I took another bite of eggs and a small sip of water. “Telemarketer?”

Vega ignored me and walked to the window. He peeked through the small circle I cleared and asked, “What was it like for you growing up?”

“I don't know. Same as most people, I suppose.”

“Tell me about it.”

“There isn't much to tell. I went to school like everyone else. My father worked long hours. My mother did things most moms do when she could. It was a normal childhood.”

“What does that mean? When she could?” he asked. Vega looked at me over his shoulder.

“Before she got sick.”

“Your father is one of the richest men in the world. He should have been able to get her the best doctors. You're telling me he couldn't help her?”

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Doesn't that seem strange to you?” Vega asked as he looked back to the window.

I shrugged my shoulder. “No. Sometimes it doesn't matter. You can't save everyone.”

Vega grunted. “Is there more?”

“More what?”

“More to your story?”

“No. That's what it was like until I turned sixteen,” I said.

I left out the part about my own illness slipping in and attempting to steal me away. But my father saved me. He did for me what he couldn't do for my mother.

“What happened when you turned sixteen?” Vega turned and leaned against the window.

“I started working for my father doing little things. I filed papers. I would shred old documents. Occasionally, he would let me sit in on meetings and take notes. The older I got, the more responsibilities he gave me.”

“Is that what you wanted? Did you want to work for your father?”

“I guess.”

“That sounds skeptical. You had other plans, didn't you?”

“I think we all have other plans when we're kids. Did you want to grow up to become this? Is this what your father did, too? Was he a despicable scumbag who kidnapped people for ransom?”

Vega frowned. “I told you I didn't take you for your money.”

“Why else would you take me? It's the only thing that makes sense. There must be something you need.”

He walked forward, his eyes locked on mine. “Poppy, there are a million reasons why I might take you.”

“Maybe. But for you, there's only one. The other nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand-nine hundred and ninety-nine don't matter.”

He stroked his jaw and let out a breath. “You're right. I'm not going to tell you you're not. I do have a reason for taking you.”

“But you're not going to tell me what it is? Why?”

“I think you'll figure it out eventually. You said it yourself; you're a smart girl. I don't doubt you'll get the answers you want without me having to tell you a thing.”

“So this is it then? I get to spend the rest of my life here? Trapped in this fucking room?”

Vega's lips went taut as he took long, commanding steps in my direction. His back stiffened as he pointed down at me. “There are worse things that could happen to you. I'm the only thing keeping them from reaching you. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you!” I yelled as I jumped to my feet. “I will never thank you for a damn thing!”

He grinned as I stared him down. “You'll thank me. I can promise you that.” Vega ran his thumb down the curve of my jaw.

I slapped his hand away. “Don't fucking touch me,” I choked out between angry breaths.

“You had no problem letting me touch you when we danced.”

“That was before I knew what a piece of trash you are. If I had any idea, I would have kicked you in the balls and had you arrested.”

“That wouldn't have stopped a thing. You're lucky I took you and not one of those other guys.”

My jaw clenched tight, and my hands balled into fists. I couldn't stop myself. I pulled back and punched Vega straight in the face. My knuckles crunched against his nose, causing his head to snap back.

He sucked in a breath and grunted as he grabbed his nose. Blood began to seep through his fingers and down his hand. Bright red flowed down his wrists and disappeared into the cuffs on his sleeves.

“Nice hit,” he said, his voice nasally. “You cold-cocked me. A cheap shot, but it was a good hit. I didn't see it coming.”

“Fuck you,” I shot back.