I closed my eyes, no longer able to look at him. This violation went somehow deeper than the sting of his hand on my sex. He was taking my most closely-guarded fantasies and twisting them into something dark and abhorrent.
I heard him sigh, and his touch left my face. The chain clanked, and a light weight tugged at my neck. Behind my closed lids, I could envision him locking the chain to the metal ring at the front of the collar. I didn’t have to see what he was doing to know what was happening to me.
His heat finally receded, but I could still feel his presence bearing down on me.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly.
My wet lashes fluttered open.
“This is what’s best for you,” he told me with that same calm assurance that so unsettled me. “While you’re with me, you’re my responsibility. I will take care of you, even if that means protecting you from yourself.”
“You’re not protecting me,” I hissed. “You’ve violated me. You’ve stripped me. You’ve spanked me.”
His lips thinned, and his scar deepened. “And if you knew what my brother had planned for you instead, you’d be worshipping at my feet right now and begging to be mine. But we’ll get to that later. For now, know that I’m the merciful alternative.”
“Rape isn’t merciful,” I flung at him.
He stared at me, his black eyes glinting with fury. Despite the ire in his gaze, he didn’t move to strike me or even raise his voice. Instead, it came out low and rough with a strange mix of emotions I couldn’t quite identify. “I haven’t raped you. I won’t rape you. You won’t be rewarded with my cock until you beg me to fuck you.”
“That will never happen,” I asserted, my eyes clashing with his. I’d already told him he was insane, but I didn’t bother saying it again. He was clearly too far out of his mind to care if I thought he was crazy.
His head canted to the side, considering. “Your pretty little pussy has already wept for me. Your body craves to be touched. To be marked and owned. I think you are innocent, Samantha. You don’t know what I’m capable of. What I can make you feel. Has any man ever made you come?”
My cheeks flamed, and my eyes dropped to the carpet. His words were shameful, and they shook me to my core. Because my body had reacted to him. The sensations might have been foreign to me, but I had to acknowledge that they’d been… intense. And not all unpleasant.
What is wrong with me?
“I see,” he said, reading the truth in my shamed silence. “Your first real orgasm will belong to me.”
I shivered, the air suddenly far too cool against my heated skin.
“Later,” he said, and I got the sense he was speaking to himself more than to me. His fingers trailed through my hair, but I cringed away, completely overwhelmed and at a loss for words. He withdrew his touch, and I heard his footsteps whispering across the carpet as he moved away. When I heard the bathroom door shut behind him, I gasped in a sharp breath and finally looked up from the floor.
Just as I’d suspected, he’d locked the length of chain to the front of my collar and affixed the other end to a ringbolt set into the bedpost. I again wondered what kind of man had such tools of depravity in his bedroom, waiting to restrain and punish an unwilling woman.
A dangerous man, I reasoned. A sadistic man.
Andrés didn’t strike me as sadistic, though. He’d spanked me and humiliated me, but he hadn’t truly hurt me. Remembering Cristian’s knife slicing into my skin, I glanced down at my injured collarbone. The cut had been cleaned and sealed with a clear, shiny substance. I realized Andrés must have glued the shallow wound closed after he’d drugged me. To spare me further pain.
I didn’t understand him at all. The way he touched me was sick, perverted. But he wasn’t slashing me to ribbons as his brother had intended. Should I be relieved that I’d been saved from torture and a gruesome death at Cristian’s cruel hands?
I shook my head sharply. Of course not. Despite Andrés’ claim that he wasn’t going to rape me, he’d still locked a collar around my throat and chained my naked body to his bed. There was nothing merciful about his promise of punishments if I didn’t behave.
Dex will find me, I reasoned desperately. Or Jason. They’ll work together. They’ll come for me. Of course they would. My friends wouldn’t rest until I was rescued.
But what would I have to endure before they arrived?
The bathroom door opened again, tearing me from my whirring thoughts.
Andrés stepped back into the bedroom, wearing nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. His body was even more clearly on display than it had been in his sweatpants. I could see the dark trail of hair leading from his navel down to…
I sucked in a breath and tore my eyes away from the glimpse of his erection, straining against the towel.
“You can look at me,” he invited. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
A shrill, maddened giggle bubbled from my throat. “Right. Nothing to be afraid of. Only the huge, scarred, scary man who’s chained me to his bed.”
“Do my scars bother you so much?” he asked, his voice dropping and becoming rougher. “Am I so terrifying to look at?”
I pressed my lips together, locking in a stream of frightened babbling. Every time I allowed myself to speak in fear, I revealed too much. Better to not say anything at all.
He let out a low, rumbling sound of displeasure. I cringed and kept my eyes trained on the floor, not daring to look at his terrifying arousal.
He didn’t speak again. I listened to the soft padding of his feet against the plush carpet as he moved through the room. The whisper of fabric against fabric told me he was getting dressed, but I still didn’t glance up in his direction.
After a few minutes, silence stretched between us, and I could feel his eyes on me. It finally ended when he grunted once and started walking again. I glanced through my lowered lashes and watched his shiny black leather shoes retreating across the room. When he opened the door that I’d assumed was the exit, I finally looked up in time to see his suit-clad form filling the threshold. Behind him, I got the brief impression of a lavish sitting room, and I realized there was more to his living quarters than this bedroom. He’d mentioned a suite. How many rooms would I have to get through before I reached freedom? What obstacles would stand in my way, once Andrés was gone?
Well, for one, there was the collar around my throat and the chain that locked me to the bed.
My short period of speculation for escape routes abruptly ended when he turned to look at me one last time. One corner of his lips ticked up in a satisfied smirk, and his dark eyes raked over me.
“Good girl,” he praised, his tone warm with pleasure and lilting with gentle mockery.
I realized I was still sitting exactly as he’d left me: hands on my knees, back straight, breasts thrust out. My jaw dropped, and he chuckled before closing the door behind him.
Too late, I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed out an angry breath. My show of defiance was wasted; Andrés was no longer there to witness it. And would I have dared to defy him if he were still in the room with me?
With a little exasperated growl, I fisted the chain and jerked at it. My only reward was an aching palm where the metal links bit into my skin. I reached for the padlock that kept the chain tethered to the ringbolt in the bedpost. I pulled down sharply, trying to break it.
I didn’t have a hope of snapping the lock on my own. I might have been able to pick it, but I’d need tools for that. I stood and tested my range of movement. I could walk exactly two steps away from the bed before the collar tightened around my throat. Even if I stretched and reached my arm out to the point of discomfort, I couldn’t touch the chest of drawers. There was no guarantee that the keys to the locks were kept in there, but it was my best bet.
After a few minutes, I sat back down on the bed, frustrated. I might as well be in the cage, for all the freedom I had.
I shivered and pushed that thought away. M
y situation was dire, but at least I hadn’t been caged like an animal.
Gatita. Andrés had called me a kitten. I might not be familiar with much Spanish, but I knew that word from elementary classes in the language when I was young.
Did he really see me as some sort of unruly little pet he could train into obedience?
The way he’d touched my body made it very clear that he saw me as a woman.
But I fully suspected he still intended to train me. He’d claimed that I belonged to him. At least, I would until Cristian decided to let me go.
He had to let me go. He’d given me to Andrés to get the truth out of me, and I’d convinced Andrés that I was a federal agent. He’d said he believed me. Surely he’d talk to his brother, and Cristian wouldn’t be so reckless as to keep me captive?
I’ll get out of this, I thought desperately. I might not currently be able to escape on my own, but my friends would either locate me, or the Moreno brothers would see reason and release me before the full power of the FBI came down on them.
How had it come to this? Before yesterday, I hadn’t really stopped to think about how dangerous the Moreno brothers were. I’d been focused on Division 9-C. They were the big, scary bad guys I was targeting.
I hadn’t realized how big and scary Andrés was. I hadn’t even considered him at all. I’d known Cristian was dangerous, but I’d only been peripherally aware of his little brother.
But I’d been taken from my home, captured. And given to Andrés.
I shuddered at the thought of his scarred face and hulking body, my heartbeat ticking up as panic rose. He’d return at some point soon. I’d need to be prepared, to either route my escape or reason through how I’d convince him to release me.
I took several deep, calming breaths and continued to assess my prison. Turning to my analytical brain was much easier than facing my animal emotions.
The floor-to-ceiling windows that made up one bedroom wall revealed a stunning view of the Chicago skyline. It was beautiful, but unsettling to be so high up. Even if I somehow got free from the collar, I couldn’t escape through a window. No doubt, plenty of Andrés’ men stood between the suite and the building’s exit. I hadn’t been able to fight off the single man who was holding me captive, so the prospect of facing down an unknown number of adversaries didn’t exactly sound like a good plan.
That non-plan was pointless, anyway, because I was chained to the fucking bed.
The click of the door latch disengaging made me scramble for cover. I hastily snatched up the tangled bedsheet and barely managed to clutch it to my chest before the bedroom door swung open.
A girl stood at the threshold. No, not a girl. A woman, although barely. The too-thin blonde couldn’t be more than twenty, but her dull green eyes belonged to a much older woman. If she gained a few pounds, her body would have been model-perfect, a fact which was made clear by the plunging neckline of her skintight red dress. As it was, her breastbone stood out at the center of her chest, and her cheeks were nearly as hollow as her deadened stare. There was no emotion in her eyes whatsoever. If she’d been afraid, I could have assumed she was a fellow captive here. If she’d been hopeful, maybe she might have been an ally here to rescue me. Even disdain would have indicated something useful; it would have identified her as an enemy.
But there was nothing behind her eyes. They were a lovely, forest green, framed in long, dark lashes. No matter how physically striking she may be, it was difficult to look at her.
“Who are you?” I asked, watching her warily.
“Lauren,” she replied, as though her softly-spoken name were all she had to offer in response. She hesitated in the doorway, staring at me. I shifted and pulled the sheet up to my chin.
“What do you want?” I pressed. She wasn’t attacking me, but she wasn’t helping me, either.
“He told me to bring you breakfast,” she said, finally moving. She half-turned and directed a small cart into the bedroom. It looked like fancy room service, only, this wasn’t a luxury hotel, and Lauren wasn’t dressed for the service industry.
“Who is he?” I had a good idea whom she meant, but I needed to know the person responsible for sending the food. I doubted Andrés would poison me. He’d been very clear that he wanted to keep me. But I wasn’t at all certain of Cristian’s intentions.
She finished pushing the cart up to the edge of the bed, but I didn’t move toward the food, even though I could smell the delicious scent of bacon.
“Master Andrés,” she explained in the same deadpan voice.
My hand shot out, and I gripped her wrist hard. “So you’re captive here, too,” I said quickly. She must be, if Andrés had broken her and forced her to call him Master. Wasn’t that exactly what he wanted from me?
“Help me,” I urged, tugging at the chain that bound me to the bed. “Do you know where he keeps the keys? They’re probably in that drawer.” I nodded in the direction of the piece of furniture that held the literal keys to my freedom. “I’m a federal agent. If you get this collar off me, I can get us both out of here.”
She blinked at me, then tugged her wrist free from my desperate grip.
“There’s no way out,” she said flatly.
“Of course there’s a way out,” I tried to reason with her. “How do we leave this suite? How many men are guarding the building? You know what, scratch that,” I said quickly, noting her nonplussed expression. I might have trained as a field agent, but I couldn’t get the two of us past multiple guards without a weapon. “If you could just get me a phone, I can call my friends, and they’ll come in and get us,” I hastened on.
“I can’t do that,” she said, her refusal devoid of any emotion. “I’ll get into trouble. Besides, you don’t want to leave this room. You’re safest in here.”
“What?” I spluttered, beginning to question the woman’s sanity. “You see what he’s done to me. This isn’t safe. I have to get out of here.”
“Master Andrés won’t let them dose you with Bliss and pass you around,” she said, something finally flickering in her haunted eyes. “He doesn’t like it.”
“He’s not your Master,” I said vehemently, trying to get through to her. She’d clearly been tormented, warped. If she’d been dosed with Bliss, she would have no control over her body while under the influence. She’d do anything she was told, including begging to be violated. My stomach turned at the knowledge of Andrés’ involvement in trafficking the sick drug. He was ultimately responsible for Lauren’s fractured state of mind.
“All the girls call him Master.” She shrugged. “He used to take care of us. But that was before the Bliss. He doesn’t like it,” she repeated, as though that explained everything.
I reached for her again, but she dodged back.
“Please,” I begged. “I can tell he hurt you. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Give me a phone. I just need—”
“Master Andrés didn’t hurt me,” she said with shocking fervor. “He’s nice to me. And he will be very angry with me if I help you. He told me to bring you food, and I brought it.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the bedroom.
“Wait!” I called after her as the door slammed shut.
I threaded my fingers through my hair, tugging at the coppery strands as I struggled to curb my mounting panic.
Master Andrés.
He’d claimed he was my Master now. And he’d proven how commanding and relentless he could be. Did he want to twist me into the same broken, fucked-up state as Lauren? She clearly felt some sort of perverted affection for him, even though she’d obviously been victimized.
I pressed my palms against my closed eyes and struggled to breathe normally.
I’ll get out of this. I have to.
I couldn’t end up like Lauren. I wouldn’t.
Chapter 5
I wasn’t sure how much time passed. Hours, surely. There wasn’t a clock in the bedroom, so my only concept of time was the sun intermittent
ly peeking through the overcast clouds.
I’d never been forced to sit without mental stimulation for so long. Usually, if I wasn’t on my computer at home, I was at work. Even during my short commute, I passed the time on my smart phone. I rarely even watched TV or movies without also playing a game at the same time. My brain fired in too many different directions at once for me to focus on any one thing for long. Only digging deep into a case for the Bureau or a little side hacking just for shits and giggles could fully occupy my mind.
Now that I was forced to think about it, I doubted I’d gone longer than a waking hour without some sort of contact with technology in years. Possibly not since I was nine and got my first Gameboy.
I’d exhausted all avenues of possible escape from the bedroom within a very short time. Without Lauren’s help, I was powerless to free myself from the collar that kept me tethered to the bed. Quite literally, on a short leash.
The breakfast—now stone cold—taunted me from the tray. I hadn’t been provided with any utensils, likely because I would have devised some way to fashion them into weapons. Or possibly find a way to break my chains.
As it was, I had freaking bacon and breakfast potatoes. Like that would do me any good.
Well, my rumbling stomach told me I certainly could use the food, but I didn’t trust it. While I doubted Andrés would poison me, he’d proven he had no qualms about drugging me. I didn’t want to be unconscious and helpless again. Especially considering the fact that it had cost me my clothes the last time he’d drugged me. My only semblance of modesty now was the bedsheet, which I’d managed to wrap around me in an awkward toga. Maybe it would’ve been neater if I’d ever attended those fraternity parties in college, but I hadn’t been invited.
I hadn’t been interested in going, anyway.
I blew out a long breath and rubbed my forehead. Why was I thinking about college? Those weren’t my best memories, and I much preferred to sink into my work and my online persona rather than remembering those difficult years.
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