Captive

by Trevion Burns

  “A’ight, that’s enough,” he growled, shoving open the door. “Let’s… go…”

  His voice petered away when he was met with an empty bathroom—heart grinding to a halt. In less than a second, he saw his future, and it stole the breath straight from his lungs. He saw Mia escaping, taking with her any hope of him ever getting his daughter back. He saw his daughter being hurt, violated, and degraded, the same way his wife had been for five long years. He saw his daughter as a grown woman, thinking about all the ways in which the father she’d never known had failed her. Wondering why her father hadn’t loved her enough to find her. To save her.

  Tears stung his eyes.

  With a sharp breath through tightly clenched teeth, Linc pushed away from the door and barreled down the hall, nearly punching holes in the wood floors as his boots stampeded across them before careening down the staircase three at a time, moving as fast as his legs would allow.

  ——

  Mia told herself not to look back. As she raced across the green grass, crunching below her bare feet, however, she did. She looked back at the old two-story cottage behind her, a cottage that reminded her of something out of a storybook as it bid her goodbye in the dark night sky. Her heaving breath joined in with the wind zooming by as she ran, picking up her hair as she did as if the breeze were dancing with the flying strands in celebration of her escape.

  But it was too soon to celebrate. As she zoomed across the winding road alongside the house, across the bridge built over a small stream where the water trickled over the rocks, and into the dense woodland that surrounded the cottage on either side, she still had a long way to run. She wasn’t free yet.

  Her burning throat—still bone dry and in desperate need of water—implored her to stop at the trickling stream as she zoomed past it, warning her that she wouldn’t survive without sustenance for much longer. But she couldn’t stop. As she ran, the trickle of the creek growing fainter every second behind her, she could only pray there was another body of water close by. A body of water where the beast she’d left in the dust would be less likely to find her.

  Leaves and rubble on the forest floor stabbed at the beds of her feet, their earthy scent rising up to fill her flaring nostrils as if the stomp of her feet was beating the leafy aroma right out of them, but she didn’t pay any mind to the uncomfortable feeling of them nipping at her feet. Nor did she pay mind to the tall mossy trees that appeared in her path every few feet, using their green, slippery barks as leverage to propel her racing body in another direction. The skinny branches of the trees—which looked like black claws reaching out to grab her in the darkness—slapped at her cheeks in her haste. She kicked up the dirt and rocks at her feet, her legs growing uneven on the steep hills and slopes of the forest, but she didn’t even scream for help. Not just because no one would hear her in that stretch of deserted land that clearly went on for miles, but because her face was too recognizable.

  If she wanted a taste of real freedom, she couldn’t risk exposing herself to someone who would point Malik in her direction. In the strangest way, she realized, the barbarian she’d left in the house growing smaller in the distance behind her might actually prove to be her guardian angel. The best thing that ever happened to her. He’d given her the opportunity to escape both him and Malik. To start a new life somewhere else.

  Anywhere else.

  Just as the beautiful fantasies of deliverance had begun to ease her heart, Emma’s face flashed through Mia’s mind, and her heart was at her feet. She pictured Emma’s big green eyes. The hope that had been in them when she’d explained to Mia her own plans of escape. Emma’s snaggletooth smile invaded in Mia’s brain and the emotion it awoke in her literally tripped her up, causing her to stumble over her newly-freed feet and nosedive onto the forest floor.

  Then, Mia was rolling, careening down a steep hill she hadn’t even seen coming in the nearly pitch black. Her stomach bottomed out as she waited for the out of control spill to turn deadly. For her body to pick up enough speed to kill her the moment she slammed into one of the many massive trees that entrenched the thick woodlands. For the hill she was billowing down at what felt like the speed of light to come to a sudden end and send her over the edge of a hundred foot cliff where she’d plummet to her death. She waited for her life to be over.

  And still, she didn’t scream.

  When she came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the hill, gasping but unscathed outside of a few scratches gifted by rocks and bark along the way—she was momentarily frozen.

  Elbows trembling, she pushed herself into a sitting position, chest heaving as she searched her surroundings. More pitch black forest that seemed to lead to nowhere. More directions to choose from which could lead to freedom or capture. The fall down that hill had gotten Mia so turned around she could easily choose a direction that took her right back to the storybook cottage she’d just darted away from. Right back to the villain she’d just escaped from.

  The blood gushing through her veins left her feeling off balance as she stood on shaky knees. Her eyes traveled the expansive woodlands as she brushed away the dirt and debris that had collected on her unzipped dress during the run and the fall, trying to decide the best course of action. Straight ahead, the forest seemed to grow too dark—too thick. As if there was no chance of finding any sign of life if she decided to charge forward. Something about it sent a wave of fear racing through her body, so she turned on her heel, deciding to go the opposite way.

  When she slammed directly into something hard—but not quite as hard as the trees she’d been dodging in her haste to escape—a violent gasp raced up her throat.

  She met eyes with her captor, his own chest heaving, the hood of his sweatshirt still pulled low and shadowing his face, but not enough to stop his blazing green orbs from gleaming under the wisps of moonlight sneaking through the thick smattering of trees. At the sight of him towering over her, seeming nearly as tall the hundred-year-old trees that surrounded them, Mia’s gasp moved into a gut-churning scream. She tried to run, but he had her arms locked under his big hands before she could even think to do it, so tightly she worried he might cut off her circulation. She thrashed against him, against his powerful hold, knowing it was no use, and in seconds he’d yanked her arm, bent down, and slung her stomach across the back of his neck.

  “No,” Mia growled, still thrashing, tears spilling over her cheeks as her one last chance at hope, her one last chance at freedom, her one last shining beacon died right before her eyes. “Stop it!”

  But he was too strong.

  Too fast.

  Moving at the speed of light, with a strength she couldn’t match, he had her body slung over both of his shoulders with her legs hanging down over one side of his head and her arms on the other. He clamped her wrists together in a vise with his hand that felt tighter than the black binds he’d had around them earlier. He gave her ankles the same constrictive treatment, clenching them together with his fingers until her entire body was nearly padlocked around his head as if he was trying to tie her own limbs into a constrictors knot.

  Then he stood, lifting her like it was nothing, and trekked back up the hill, holding her body so taut the only muscle she could move was her tongue.

  “You fucking bastard,” she spat, her words choppy from the exertion of running and also from the white-hot hatred she felt for the animal below her. She tried to thrash against him, which only served to push back of his neck deeper into her stomach, cutting off her airways even more and making her every word come strangled. “Let me go—let me go!”

  Of course, he didn’t let her go, continuing to ascend the hill that led back to the house with the forest floor crunching under his boots, doing nothing to acknowledge her pleas and cries for mercy. How heartless could one man be? He wouldn’t kill her. He wouldn’t free her. He wouldn’t even fuck her.

  She wondered if she was even human to him.

  12

  The front door slammed against the wall an
d nearly broke away from the frame as Linc kicked it open and stepped back into the dark house. So violently, the door ricocheted instantly and closed behind him all on its own. The acidic taste of his own blood from where Mia’s elbow had connected with his teeth during their scuffle lingered in his mouth, its repugnant flavor painting a frown across his face.

  Thankfully, Mia had stopped fighting him sometime during the trek back to the house, her body now nothing but a lump of dead weight slung across his shoulders. The sequins of her dress still prickled at his neck, promising to give him second painful gash to keep the first one company if he wasn’t careful. He gritted his teeth, wondering how such a beautiful dress—adorning such a beautiful body—could be so goddamn dangerous. The thought of that dress, of the body it hugged so tightly, its owner could barely move, even though it was still unzipped, infiltrated his brain and tightened his stomach. It carried him so far away from consciousness he didn’t even realize how close her head was to the wall next to the staircase until the deafening thud of her skull connecting with the plaster had filled the air, followed by her strangled cry.

  “Fuck!”

  Linc’s tongue begged to apologize as he stomped up the stairs, but he didn’t, letting her furious grunts and displeased expletives boom off the walls as he cleared the stairs, carried her down the upstairs hallway, and re-entered the bedroom. Her moans of pain were still present, but faint, as he carried her to the bed he should’ve never untied her from to begin with. Bending forward, he deposited her haphazardly onto the rumpled white sheets. She hit the mattress with a yelp, the speed with which he’d thrown her down causing her to roll away from him and nearly fall off the bed on the other side.

  She stopped herself, however, digging her fingers and toenails into the sheets to keep herself on the bed, stomach down.

  He nearly laughed at the sight of her, writhing sluggishly on her stomach like a baby who hadn’t yet learned to roll over. He wondered if she even had the strength to turn her body. She was surely regretting how hard headed she’d been earlier that night when he’d tried to give her something to eat and drink, and she’d literally, spat it back in his face.

  “Congratulations,” he said to her heaving back, his voice joining in with her strangled gasps and bouncing off the walls of the empty bedroom. “You just bought yourself a bucket to piss in and a lifetime guarantee of never leaving this bed again.”

  It seemed his voice brought something alive in her because, with a monstrous heave, she pushed herself up on her arms and rolled over, landing on her back, her eyes filled with hatred as she glared up at him.

  But Linc didn’t notice the glare, his green orbs expanding to twice their size as they fell to the bust-line of her dress, where one of the straps had come undone sometime during their struggle, leaving both of her naked, ample breasts spilling out of the neckline. A flutter that should’ve been pleasant took up residence in his stomach, but it multiplied too quickly as he found himself entranced. Evolving into a ripple of blistering tremors. As if vultures with the tips of their wings set aflame had taken up residence in his stomach, threatening to burn right through the lining with every flap of their fiery feathers. His erection came in an instant, stronger than it had in a long time, pressing against his zipper so ferociously he worried it might tear through his jeans.

  She followed his gaze down to her chest, rising and falling with just as much fervor as her heaving stomach, and then looked back up at him. Her eyes grew knowing through the smattering of dark brown hair falling across her face, saturated with leaves and shrubbery from her failed escape attempt.

  Linc drew in a violent breath while yanking down the zipper of his hoodie. He tore it off his shoulders and down his arms, every inch of blood in his body pumping through his veins in a race to get to his aching dick, making the vessels in his arms pulse against his skin. Fighting to break free with just as much fervor as his dick fought for freedom against his zipper.

  He tossed the hoodie at her, a deep cringe darkening his face when it landed on her stomach, doing nothing to conceal the soft globes of her breasts, her dark areolas, or her rock hard nipples, begging to be licked.

  “Put it on.” When she didn’t immediately heed his demand, his voice came louder, harder, strained through his clenched teeth. “Now.”

  She didn’t move, still brazenly holding his gaze, her own brown orbs growing just as deep and dark with the urgent hunger he could feel ripping his insides to shreds. Every part of him yearned to cross that bedroom and cover her up with the hoodie himself. But he couldn’t move.

  He couldn’t touch her.

  It would be the biggest mistake of his life.

  She must’ve known it too because the tiniest smile lifted the corner of her lips and lit fire to her knowing eyes as she threw her legs over the edge of the bed, never breaking their gaze.

  He took a healthy step back when she stood, holding the sweater at her side, the hood hanging by a prayer from the tips of her lithe fingers.

  He breathed deeply. “Put on the goddamn sweater.”

  She searched his eyes before dropping the sweater on the edge of the bed behind her and laying her hands on her hips, where her glimmering dress was somehow still intact.

  Linc’s eyes fell to watch as she splayed her fingers against her body. As if they were just as eager as his own to touch every inch of her frame—its subtle dips and curves surprisingly voluptuous for a woman her size. His gaze followed those fingers as she dragged them up her body, slowly, lingering at her chest to give each of her exposed breasts a soft squeeze. To twist her nipples around her fingers, making them even harder than they already had been a moment before. The brown buds nipped into the air and nearly reached across the room for him as her fingers abandoned them to stoke a searing path up her ribcage. Her shoulders. The underside of her chin. Then, she reversed, moving her touch down her chest once more, giving her breasts another soft squeeze, a lift, before releasing them again, leaving them jiggling in her retreat as she trailed her hands over her stomach and dipped her fingers into her dress, which was bunched around her waist.

  She leaned forward to push the tight fabric down her long legs.

  Linc swallowed back the lump in his throat, gritting his teeth.

  She stepped out of the dress that was now pooled at her feet, one foot at a time, her toes—painted red—pointed, making her every move utterly graceful and womanly. She stood before him, brown skin glowing. Wearing gold cotton panties and nothing else, z circular patch in the middle of her underwear a touch damper than the all the rest. A wetness so subtle most would easily miss it.

  But Linc didn’t miss it.

  “The sweater—” His cleared his throat when his voice broke.

  Her smile grew wider. Playful. Amused.

  An expletive sat on the tip of Linc’s tongue as his eyes continued traveling her body utterly against his will, but it petered away when his gaze landed on a scar. A startling disfigurement on the side of her thigh that started a few inches above her knee and stretched all the way up to the tiniest part of her waist. Leaving a jagged line racing up the edge of her body, like a black pinstripe. A blemish that promised great pain had been realized to see it come to fruition.

  He gaped at the scar.

  And Mia’s smile vanished. Every inch of amusement faded from her eyes. She’d snatched the sweatshirt up from the edge of the bed and used it to cover her body, her eyes falling to the floor as she nibbled her bottom lip.

  Linc lifted his chin at her sudden about-face, his eyebrows rising slowly as he lifted his gaze back to hers.

  Her eyes remained lowered, however. Some part of her seemed in the midst of asking him to turn his back. But she didn’t. Instead, she pulled the hoodie over each of her arms hastily, her hands trembling the entire way, and zipped it up. He was twice her size, so the sweater engulfed her. Serving as more of an innovative new take on a dress than a sweatshirt, it hit her mid-thigh and swallowed her arms whole. She didn’t even bother t
o push the sleeves up over the hands that were eating alive, letting them hang like shark fins as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

  With her naked body hidden away, Linc found a new center. A balance that had been rapidly escaping him when she’d been defying him a moment earlier.

  “Lay down and put your hands over your head,” he demanded.

  This time, there was no knowing smile on her lips. No playful gleam in her eye. This time, she did what she was told without argument, verbally or physically, lying down on the bed, avoiding his eyes the entire time, and stretching her long arms over her head.

  Linc took her in for a moment before crossing the room to the bedside table. The black fabric he’d used to restrain her earlier sat right where he’d left it after making the colossal mistake of freeing her wrists and ankles the first time.

  Moving to the bed, he seized her wrists and bound them back onto the steel bars of the headboard. He watched her. He watched the tears gleaming in her eyes for the first time that night. Those gleaming brown eyes didn’t stop him, however, from moving to the foot of the bed and giving her feet the same treatment. Tying them tightly enough that she could never dream of getting out on her own, but not so tightly it was uncomfortable.

  After he’d secured her, every bone in his body begged him to leave the room. The logical corner of his busy brain concurred.

  She’s a terrible person. Even as his mind implored him, his body moved on orders only from his aching heart—or perhaps his aching dick—still screaming for release against the zipper of his jeans.

  He leaned on the bed, making sinkholes as he pressed his fists on either side of her body, like a Gorilla towering over its prey, leaning in so close he could see the black shards that made flower designs in her chestnut irises. His nostrils widened as her sweet scent tickled his nose. Her shampoo? Her perfume?