by Ella Miles
We continue to eat in silence. Zeke finishes eating long before I do, and I can feel his heavy gaze on me as I keep eating, even though we are eating in the dark. I’m glad it’s dark, so I can’t see the look in his eyes. What would I find there if I could see his eyes? Want? Lust? Desire? I don’t want my body to react to any of those feelings. I’m not in a place to handle them. So I just focus on eating.
A moment after I finish, Zeke grabs my plate and silverware and whisks them away. Again he doesn’t speak, but I hear his heavy footsteps. He’s walking away, and before I can make a cognitive decision, I’m following him.
Zeke didn’t give me an order, but I’m already eager to follow his unspoken commands. What will happen when he actually gives me an order? What then? How much of my soul will I lose while Zeke holds me hostage? Not much, since I barely have any soul left to lose. I’m barely hanging on to who I am as it is.
I’m usually defiant. I’m a fighter. I will fight if Zeke tries to harm me, but somehow I’ve turned into an obedient dog, trying to figure out how to please my new master without him even speaking a word. It’s because I’m exhausted and just want to sleep in peace. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to face Julian.
Zeke walks through a hallway, again in the dark. I hear him open a door at the end of the hallway and step inside. I follow, assuming it’s the cage he plans on keeping me in.
But when I walk inside and see the moonlight shining through a large window, I’m shocked to see the most beautiful cage he could have created for me.
A large king-sized bed is the focus of the room, with shiny white sheets sparkling in the moonlight. The floor is dark wood, in deep contrast with the bed, making it look like it’s floating on water. The windows are large and look out over the cliffside to the ocean beyond—the only place where I feel at home.
I look to Zeke, who is opening a dresser drawer.
“Is this my room?” I ask, my throat dry as I speak. It doesn’t make sense if it is. Is he buttering me up with a soft, beautiful bed before he rapes me? Or does he prefer to do his damage in the clean white sheets?
“No.”
No? Then what am I doing here if it isn’t my room?
I start slowing backing away, not liking being in the same room with Zeke when there is a bed he could easily destroy me on.
He closes the drawer and faces me just as I get to the door. He doesn’t seem surprised that I’m trying to escape. He doesn’t draw a gun or try to prevent me from running in any way. He seems in complete control standing there facing me.
“Leaving?” he asks with an amused expression.
“Yes. If this isn’t my room, then I shouldn’t be in here.” I take another step back toward the door, but face Zeke as I do it. I won’t ever turn my back on my enemy.
“Who says I’m giving you any of my rooms?” Zeke answers.
I narrow my eyes. “Then where will you keep me?” Please tell me there isn’t a dungeon or cage somewhere on this property. I’m starting to think Zeke didn’t go to that auction planning on buying me, but something changed, and he did. He’s not prepared for me.
Zeke’s eyes cut to the bed.
I swallow. He wants me in his bed. He’s not going to wait to rape me. He’s going to take what he wants right here, right now.
He tosses something at me, and I catch it automatically.
“Put it on,” he says before he turns around.
I glance at my hands and realize it’s a T-shirt—one of Zeke’s T-shirts. I’d rather sleep in this than what I’m wearing, but I doubt I’ll be sleeping at all tonight.
When I look up, I see Zeke undressing. He’s slowly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out from his pants. But he isn’t facing me. He’s giving me the privacy to change without him looking. So I take advantage. I disrobe and remove my uncomfortable, strappy number and then slip the T-shirt over my head. I feel more comfortable in the shirt that hangs down to just above my knees, but I do wish I had underwear to sleep in.
Zeke is still undressing away from me. His shirt is gone now, and he’s working on his pants.
My teeth scrape over my bottom lip as I take his backside in—strong and masculine. His hair is still up in a man bun on top of his head, and it gives me an unobstructed view of every muscle and tattoo on his back.
Most of the bidding men in that auction room were disgusting, gross, unfit monsters. But Zeke has the body of a god; he didn’t need to buy one in order to have his choice of women. Tattoos are inked into his back, and when he drops his pants, I groan at the sight of his tight ass in his Calvin Kleins, fitting to his muscular ass like a second layer of skin.
Turn around. Show me your package.
He does, and my eyes bulge. Holy hell! I’ve never seen a package so perfectly formed beneath a man’s boxer briefs. But his has me mesmerized. I want to unwrap him and see what’s underneath. I want to turn him on and see how big his erection can grow. I want—
“My eyes are up here, Siren.”
Fuck, I’ve been caught.
I glare at him. “Just getting a good look so I know where to aim when I cut off your dick. Because I will knife you before I ever let you stick your cock anywhere near me.”
He cocks his head. “Really? Because the heat in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, and drool pooling in the corner of your mouth tells me you’d rather ride my cock than cut it off.”
I grit my teeth as steam boils inside me. How can he be so infuriatingly good at reading me? I always hide my emotions. It’s my signature trait. But not with him. With him, he sees the real me, and that terrifies me. He could discover my secret, and that would be worse than him raping me.
Zeke walks over to me, and I freeze. I try to hold my expression so he can’t tell if I’m terrified, turned on, or am about to attack him. He stops just in front of me and both of our breaths heat. He exhales into my hair, while I inhale his bare chest.
My breath rises harder in my chest, and I lick my lips in anticipation of a kiss before I remember that he owns me. He isn’t going to kiss me; he’s going to fuck me—destroy me, ruin me.
I glance up, and his dark eyes read mine. For a second, I think he’s trying to tell me something with just his eyes, but I’m probably reading too much into it.
He reaches around me and closes the door behind me before locking it.
“You can sleep on the left side of the bed,” he says before he turns and walks to the right side of the bed.
What?
I watch Zeke climb into the right side of the bed, and I swear he’s snoring as soon as his head hits the pillow.
He’s not going to rape me, at least not tonight.
But can I really sleep in the bed next to him?
I tiptoe over to the bed, hoping like hell I don’t wake him. If I do, he might change his mind and realize he’s hornier than he is exhausted.
But he doesn’t stir. I glance at the floor. I could sleep there instead of in his bed. But I wouldn’t get a minute of sleep; the floor is too hard. I glance at the door Zeke locked. He locked it from the inside. I could leave no problem.
But where would I go? What security measures does Zeke have in place? And how far would I get before Julian would find me? Could I sleep in a different room?
No.
I need to earn Zeke’s trust. Make him fall for me. Learn his secrets. That’s the best way to get free.
Stop being a fucking pussy.
I pull the slick covers back and climb into the heavenly bed. I close my eyes as my head hits the pillow, expecting to feel more petrified than I have in months. But instead, I feel the heavy pull of sleep as my heart calms next to Zeke’s light snoring. He could hurt me as bad as any man ever has. He could kill me, end me. But somehow, I feel more protected than ever.
10
Zeke
I don’t sleep. How could I, with the most gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted woman in my bed?
I pretend to snore initially, so Siren would trust m
e enough to sleep next to me. But it was all an act. I’m learning I can be a good actor when I want to be.
I should have locked Siren up in one of the other bedrooms. I should have tied her up with ropes. I should have ensured there is no way she could escape while simultaneously fueling my new fantasies about having Siren tied up.
But I’m not that breed of monster. The only promise I’ve silently made to her is not to hurt her. So I won’t. I might manipulate her. I might do cruel things, but I’m only doing them to protect her. If I can avoid physically hurting her, I will.
And given her reaction to Julian Reed, there is no way she will voluntarily leave my property. She’s too afraid he will hurt her. So in her mind, the safest place she can be right now is my bed, even if that confuses her. Hell, it confuses me.
It’s been ages since I’ve been this attracted to a woman. Siren is hot, sure, but she’s so much more. I want to know everything about her. I could listen to her smart mouth put me in my place all damn day. I want to know every snarky comment in her beautiful brain. And I want…hell, I’m desperate to kiss her red-stained lips. Just once, I want to fight back with my lips pressed against hers instead of riling her up with my own careful words.
There is so much I want to say to her. But I can’t, not until I know Julian isn’t listening to our every conversation.
And what was with Siren’s reaction to Julian anyway? Yes, he’s a very intimidating man. Anyone could look at him and tell that he’s evil. But Siren didn’t show a moment of fear on that stage when she was in a room of dozens of wealthy, horrid men. A man like Julian shouldn’t scare her, unless they have history together.
It was clear they have met before. And that meeting wasn’t a pleasant one. Siren doesn’t even fear me—the man who bought her for millions and she thinks is going to rape her. And yet she fears Julian.
I have to find a way to get answers. But I don’t want Julian to know that I realize he knows Siren. Or at least, Siren knows him. He’s such a bastard he probably hurt her and then forgot about her. And when he saw her with me, he wanted to destroy her all over again.
I need answers from Siren, which is going to be hard. I also need to stay as far away from her as possible.
I glance over at the angel of a woman, perplexed that she doesn’t call herself that. Sure, she has a potty mouth. And I believe her when she says she’d cut off my dick before she lets me touch her, but she’s still my angel and probably my downfall into darkness.
I’m generally a good man, at least when it comes to women. I don’t lead them on. I don’t date. I give them a good night or two, and then I move on. But with Siren, I know one night wouldn’t be enough. I want to do dirty, offensive things to her. I want to own her, just like I paid for. I want to break her and then put her pieces back together, so she owes me a thousand unrelenting debts.
My hand reaches out, wanting to brush her strands from her face, but I stop at the last second. I can’t even let myself have a taste. I have the ultimate level of self-control, but with Siren, I’m going to fall into the depths of hell after one drop. I want her too much. If I get one taste, I’ll be hooked. I won’t be able to keep my promises not to hurt her. And I’ll become like the men I’m trying to protect her from.
So I keep my hands to myself. The less I touch her, the better.
But the longer I stay in bed with her, the less control I have on my body. Especially when she starts making adorable snoring noises in her sleep.
I have to get out of here.
I jump out of bed, not caring if I wake her. I have work to do. I have a house to debug, a debt to Julian to repay, and figuring out how to sell women while saving them at the same time. Not to mention what the hell I’m going to do with Siren to keep her safe once I’ve repaid my debt to Julian and ensured he won’t follow me when I leave.
I grab my jeans and T-shirt from the closet and then walk down the hallway to the bathroom. Why the hell this house doesn’t have a bathroom that connects to the bedroom is beyond me. Siren doesn’t stir as I leave, and even if she does, she won’t leave the safety of the house. I don’t have to worry about her escaping.
I walk into the bathroom, flick the shower water to cold, remove my boxer briefs, and stand under the cold spray. I’m desperate for it to knock some sense into me and ease the pain of my night-long erection.
But when I look down, my cock is still hard, aching to be inside Siren.
Fucking hell.
I fall forward and put my hands on the wall of the shower. I let the cold water fall over my head and down my back and chest. I close my eyes as I pant heavily, trying to get the images of Siren out of my head.
I try to think of anything else—Julian, the old lady who gets me coffee at the cafe down the street, a peanut butter sandwich, the work I need to do to the beat-up truck. Fucking anything—but my cock is still hard.
I want to jack off, but I know if I do, Siren’s body will be what I get off to. Her body on stage with a few tiny straps hiding only part of her skin, but not the most intimate parts.
I’m sick.
I won’t pleasure myself to her being forced onto a stage for others’ enjoyment.
I start thinking about all the men who saw Siren basically naked. All the men who have probably rubbed their dicks to the image of her they have branded into their heads already.
My stomach flips at that thought. I hate that any man has ever seen Siren that exposed, basically naked. And with that thought, my erection immediately disappears.
My job is to protect those I love, those I owe a debt to, those that are innocent. I owe Siren a debt. I won’t let her fall into any other category.
I turn off the water, get dressed, and then walk back to my bedroom.
Siren is awake, with the covers lifted up to her chin like that will protect her from me.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I walk over to her side of the bed and pull a bottle of water out of the nightstand and set it next to her. I’ve kept a few bottles of water in the nightstand so I could take my medications the first thing in the morning.
“I’m going to work,” I say.
Her eyes widen, and a smile forms behind her lips. She thinks she can plan. She can search my house to find dirt on me. But even if she did, there is nothing here. She will find no personal detail about me if she ripped this house apart room by room.
I walk to the door, though, as a plan forms to keep her safe. She’s safe in my house, sure, but she’s safest in this bedroom. She won’t be tempted to run away if she can’t see how easy it would be for her to run down the beach and away from Julian’s property. Here she won’t be tempted to leave.
“Enjoy your cage until I get back,” I say as I close the door and pretend to lock it from the outside. But there is no lock on the outside, although she doesn’t know that.
I hear her run to the door and pound on it hard.
“Zeke! Don’t! Don’t lock me in here!” she shouts from behind the door.
“It’s for your own good. I wouldn’t want you to wander and fall into the hands of a man who isn’t as kind and patient as I am.”
“I’m claustrophobic!”
“Good thing that room is huge then.”
“What about food?”
“I asked, you said you weren’t hungry. I’ll be back by dinner time.”
I start backing up as she keeps pounding on the door but doesn’t once test the door handle. She believes me. She truly thinks I locked her inside the room.
“Zeke…please.” Her voice is soft and begging.
It should make me want to help her. I’d help any other woman who spoke to me that way. I’d tell them the truth. I’d find another way to contain them. But not with Siren. Siren’s sultry plea makes my cock hard. It twists me into a one-track man who wants to devour her.
She’s safer locked in my bedroom.
So I walk away and hope Siren doesn’t realize the door is
n’t locked. She’s as free as she was before she was kidnapped, but I’m not the devil she thinks I am. I’m much worse. I’m the kind who pretends to protect her but ultimately destroys her—just as soon as my beast within breaks through.
If Siren is smart, she’ll run. She’ll save herself before my beast escapes. Because when he does, she’ll never be safe.
11
Siren
Fucking bastard.
Asshole.
Buttmunch.
Jackass.
Coward.
Zeke fucking locked me in his bedroom. And it pisses me off. I’m not an animal he can just lock up!
But apparently, I am. That is exactly what he did. He locked me up and is holding me hostage.
And now what do I do?
He expects me to wait until he returns so he can order me around and have his way with me—I don’t think so.
That sure as hell isn’t happening.
My thighs clench, my nipples pebble, and my mouth runs dry just thinking about Zeke. I slept next to him all night. Somehow, my dreams were all about him. Dreams—not nightmares.
In them, he wasn’t much different than the man I’ve come to know since he bought me—the strong, silent type. He would just look at me and I could tell everything he was thinking—exactly what he wanted me to do.
And I did it. I undressed slowly. I touched myself, spread the moisture between my legs over my lips so he could see how wet I was for him. He was commanding without saying a word. And I wanted to follow his every desire.
But then I woke up. I remembered no matter how attracted I am to Zeke, I will never fuck him. For a split second, when I saved him in the water, I thought he might be the rare good guy who would never hurt a woman. But now I know the truth.
He locked me up simply because it was the easiest course of action. He knows he doesn’t need to tie me up, although he might try to just for his own twisted enjoyment.
Currently, a simple lock on the door is the only thing between me and freedom.
I fold my arms over my chest as the air conditioning kicks on and chills my arms and legs. I’m still naked except for Zeke’s oversized T-shirt.