“Anything else?”
“I expect you to go to school, attend your extracurricular activities, and wait for me to come and get you. You will not make a move without my say so.” Jesus, is he serious?
“I have a life, you can’t just…”
“I can and I will.” He interjects without pause. His eyes are focused on the open road ahead as he weaves seamlessly around the cars that are going the speed limit but appear to be going too slow for him. I avert my eyes back to the window with a frown, caught for a moment realizing how fleeting life can be. How one mistake can snowball into catastrophic events that lead you down a path you never imagined you could end up on.
“You have no control over your life unless I give it.” His words are like the crack of a whip across my body, directing my attention back to him. “Any little freedom you have from here on out, know that it is given by me.” He’s off the highway, gunning down the streets and as he takes a corner a little too sharply, I instantly recognize my neighborhood. The giant, decrepit maw of my building comes into view against the gray night sky and I’m suddenly not sure if it’s relief or apprehension surging through me. Anxiety curls like a dear old friend in the pit of my stomach as he takes the turn into the parking lot behind the building, he parks as far away from other cars as he possibly can with the front of the car facing the empty, snow-covered playground yards away from us. He cuts the engine and the blood rushing between my ears is the only noise I can hear.
I jump when I feel the slide of his large hand against my cheek, but my warmth instantly absorbs the coolness of that hand. It feels good. Like the mercy of a cold towel over fevered skin. But I don’t turn into it. Shadows play across his face, turning his haunting beauty into something all too sinister. And for a fleeting second, I think it might be a reflection of the sort of person he is on the inside. Beautiful, yet irredeemably evil. A shudder runs through me and I say nothing as his hands leave my cheek and goes to my neck. With meticulous care that belies the violence I know he’s capable of, he removes the cuff around my neck and with it, the leash. The lack of restriction feels…odd? I don’t know why. I want to bring my hands up to my bare neck and feel it beneath my fingers, but I can’t, they’re still bound. “If it were not for your schooling, I would keep you,” he murmurs in the silence. “Do you want to know where I would put you?” His inquiry is too gentle…too quiet. I don’t know if he expects an answer or if it’s just a rhetorical question. How would I know how his sick mind works? How would I know what sort of fucked up hiding places he has to keep me in? I don’t answer and it’s an obvious error on my part when his hand snaps forward and grabs my neck in a viselike grip, pushing me back into the passenger door, the back of my head pressed against the cold glass of the window. I’m like an ant beneath the giant skyscraper of his weight as he bears down on me. His fingers clench, squeezing slowly, not yet restricting my air flow but he makes sure that I feel the threat of it.
My heart quakes. “You should answer me when I ask you a question, Lacey.” His face is so close to mine, his eyes glimmering lethally in the shadowed darkness. “Otherwise,” he continues, in an almost singsong voice, “I might be forced to carve my answers into your sweet, caramel skin. Is that what you want, Lacey? Should that be our next lesson? Your skin would make a beautiful canvas.”
“Kn…Knox…” The whimper of his name draws a sharp breath from him and the grip around my neck constricts a little more.
“Say it again,” he demands, his breath my own.
“Knox,” I whisper, and the reaction I receive is utterly unexpected. He kisses me. Slides his beautiful, cruel mouth over mine and kisses me. I have no control, his masculine power overtakes me, subdues me, devours me. He draws my lips apart with his own and slides into the warm interior of my mouth with his tongue. It’s a slow and demanding penetration that rocks my body to its very core. I taste him. All of him. The potent, hot burn of his carnal mouth makes me forget who I am, robs me of everything I thought I was, and injects me with this terrifying girl who craves the profound connection with this man, who willingly sought out his prevalent darkness and wants to burrow into it. “When I untie the ropes, I want you to leave this car and run. Don’t stop until you’re locked inside your home. Understand me?”
My nod isn’t good enough for him. “Speak,” he barks.
“Yes, I understand.”
When he finally releases his hold on my neck, he says nothing else as he tugs at the rope, unraveling the knots with swiftness. Again, the strange sense of emptiness overtakes me but I don’t ponder on it for too long as I turn toward the passenger door, ready to jump out of this car and run. His firm grasp of my left arm derails my escape. “Your phone.” He slips it in my hand and whispers, “Go now.” I run into the frigid arms of winter. My body hurts. My sock-covered feet pound the pavement but nothing really matters, nothing fully registers until I’m in front of my apartment door. No key. I bang on the door. Pound on it with all my might. Hoping and praying that someone is home. Dante, my mom, just anyone to let me in. When the door opens, it’s Dante who stands in front of me. And the look of utter shock he gives me as I rush past him for the interior of the apartment is probably the same horror-stricken look I have on my face.
“Cece…what the fuck?”
“Close the door!” He jumps at my shriek and slams the door behind him. “Lock it, make sure it’s locked.” He turns the lock and I’m stupid enough to think the second he slips the door chain in place that I’ll feel safer.
“Jesus Christ, Lacey, where the fuck have you been?”
I don’t feel safe at all. The tightness in my chest doesn’t ease; it only gets bigger, tighter. It slithers up my throat, coils there like a serpent and prevents me from swallowing. I stab my fingers through my hair, and in a grip all too reminiscent of my tormentor, I tug. Fuck. Fuck. I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind. The pleasure that he gave me is outweighed by the startling realization of what just happened to me. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m trembling so hard I can feel my teeth rattling in my mouth. Panic. That’s what it feels like. A panic attack. Gravity brings me to a crouching position and I jump when I feel Dante’s hand on my arm.
“Christ, Cece, talk to me. What happened to you?”
“I…I…” I don’t sound like myself. Tears clog my voice, it chokes me, and I bite my lip to keep the torrent of tears at bay. But the first sob is like a battering ram to my efforts and as the second gut-wrenching sob tears through me, it shatters my willpower and I’m in my brother’s arms before I know what’s happening, sobbing like the world is ending. I cling to him. Cling to his familiarity. Cling to this life that is both my prison and my home.
“Did someone hurt you?” he pulls me away from him to ask when I finally stop crying. “One of your johns?” He’s hesitant when he asks me that, so much so that I notice him cringe before he continues. “I swear, if one of those assholes lays a hand on you, I’m going to kill them.” I wonder if he means it. Will he go after Knox if I tell him all that was done to me in the two days I was gone? Will he even get a chance to get that close? My concern is not about Dante going after Knox. It’s about Knox coming after him, after me. It’s about Knox stealthily coming in and out of our apartment, slipping in and out of my room, and taking me without anyone noticing. It’s about how frighteningly dangerous and crazy he’s proven to be. How easy it will be for him to come in our home and slit our throats before we even see it coming.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “No, it’s nothing,” I whisper tremulously. “I’m fine.” I take in a shuddering breath and push away from him. “I just…a friend from school, Tyler, picked me up Thursday night. I just ended up spending a few days at his house.”
He gives me a narrowed stare, trying to see behind the bullshit. “Then why the fuck do you look like someone fucked you up? Why were you crying?”
I can’t smile for shit, but I muster one anyway. “I was tripping off some pills I took.” I
waver on my feet when I stand; Dante’s hand keeps me from toppling.
“You?” I can’t blame him for doubting me. He knew how much I hated drugs. But it’s the only plausible lie I can come up with on the spot. “You popped pills?”
“Yes, okay? And trust me, it’s the first and last time I’m doing that shit. Look, I’m going to go to my room and sleep for a little bit.” I leave him standing in the middle of the living room as I walk away. Just before I walk into my room my eyes bounce to the partially open door on my right. I know the answer before I even ask, but I do it anyway, “Is she home?”
I hear Dante’s deep sigh. “No, and I’m starting to think maybe…”
“She’s not dead,” I say curtly, before stepping over the threshold of my room and shutting the door behind me. The darkness brings flashbacks. With trembling fingers, I search blindly against the wall for the light switch. Dim light floods the small room. It chases away the darkness, pushes back the shadows. All that surrounds me is safe, comforting light. Safe. The word doesn’t ring true but I keep it on silent repeat as I force myself away from the door to walk around my room.
Chapter Eighteen
Lacey
Everything looks the same. Tidy. Untouched. Every single object in its place. Then I look at the bed and fear takes a restrictive hold of my throat. He took me from there.
“Calm down, Lacey. Breathe…just fucking breathe,” I say, out loud, as I take in slow, deep breaths until I become relatively calm again. I run to my window and press down on it, making doubly sure that it’s locked tight. Before I step away, I draw my curtain aside and peek down below. I look for him, narrow my eyes like that will help me pinpoint his presence in the darkness, but I see nothing. I feel a small sense of relief, but I’m far from relaxed. Without thought, I step away from the window and strip off the clothes I’m wearing. I rummage through my drawers for my heaviest sweater and my baggiest sweatpants and put them on. I triple my socks, the top pair doesn’t match, but that’s the least of my worries. I gather my hair at the base of neck into a French braid. I don’t have the elastic to keep it in place but the bottom end is braided up tight enough to last me the night.
I gather up the clothes on the floor, ready to shove them at the bottom of my hamper when something falls from my clothes and hits the floor with a thud. My phone. I stare down at it for a long time, like my mind doesn’t quite grasp that it’s on the floor, before I finally crouch down. I set the clothes back on the floor next to me and reach for it. I don’t know how I know, because it’s password protected, but I know almost immediately that he’s looked through my phone. I will bet anything on it. I swipe my finger over the on-screen pattern and I’m allowed inside. There’s no immediate sign that shows he’s done anything. But he wouldn’t need to do too much. The small red icon of an envelope at the bottom right of the main screen shows that I have four hundred and seventy unread emails. I don’t find evidence of his tampering until I click on the yellow and white icon of my messages. The majority of the texts are from Tyler. Scrolling down the conversation page, I notice that there’s no reply for all of Friday. Saturday morning and afternoon are the same and then…
My eyes widen and my jaw falls open. “Oh, God…!”
My heart is in my throat, the hand holding the phone is shaking so badly but I can’t put it down as my eyes glance over the images in the text. The first image is a close-up picture of me with my eyes closed, naked, tied up and gagged, with my panties in my mouth in that fucking room! It’s a side image, while the other shows my sleeping face. He sent them both to Tyler! With a very twisted reply of: She’s been a little tied up.
Thankfully, there’s no reply from Tyler.
I can feel vomit crawling up my throat. I toss the phone back on the floor, on top of my dirty clothes, and race out of my bedroom, open the bathroom door and turn on the lights. I just barely make it to the toilet before the offending liquid fills my mouth and leaks through my fingers. It’s hot, bitter bile that I spew into the porcelain hell over and over again until I’m heaving harsh air. I flush and shakily come to my feet, and make my way over to the sink. I purposely avoid my reflection as I brush my teeth and rinse my mouth. I open the medicine cabinet, not sure what I’m looking for until my eyes land on the bottle of aspirin. My hands are shaking so badly that it takes me longer than normal to unscrew the childproof cap but I eventually manage it. I take three more than recommended before putting the bottle back on the shelf. When I exit the bathroom, I notice Dante looking at me from the couch. There’s nothing I can really do about the concern on his face. I can’t make him feel better right now because even I’m not sure I’m going to be okay. I turn my back to him and shuffle inside my room once again, locking the door behind me.
My phone is still where I left it in my haste to get to the bathroom. I kneel down and grab it. His blatant invasion of privacy makes me sick. But did I really expect anything more from him? Did I really expect common decency from a man who, by his own words, wants to destroy me?
God, that fucking psychotic fuck!
How do I even begin to unravel this? What lie can I possibly tell Tyler to get out of this humiliation? He’s my friend. My only friend. And now Knox has probably destroyed that with this cruel joke. Was it even a joke? Did that goddamn sicko even have a fucking sense of humor? Or was it simply another way to control me? I throw my phone across the room in a fit of rage only to regret it seconds later. I crawl to retrieve it from where it’d hit the wooden footboard of my bed. It’s in two pieces, with the battery laying inches away from the phone itself. Luckily there isn’t any noticeable damage and a small sense of relief comes when I’m temporarily blinded by the backlight of the screen. I sigh in sheer agitation. My mind isn’t working properly at this point. I can’t fucking deal with this shit right now. I rise to my knees and set my phone on my mattress. My eyes run over the rumpled sheets with a frown. I’m the epitome of the word exhausted but I won’t sleep on that bed. I can’t. The thought of leaving myself that vulnerable again has me shuddering. I stand abruptly, pick up my pillow, drag my blanket from the bed, and make my way to my closet. I open the door and look inside. It’s not meant to be a place for sleep, but at this point it doesn’t really matter. I slip my pillow inside and half of it ends up folded against the wall. Crawling beneath what little clothes I have hanging, I pull my blanket behind me. It’s small and cramped, sort of like sleeping in a box; extending my legs isn’t an option. I can only lie on my side, so I slip an arm beneath my pillow and wrap the other across my abdomen. It’s not comfortable in the least but it sure as hell beats sleeping in a car in freezing temperatures. And it’s warm. Fucking bonus for that.
Pitch darkness falls around me when I drag the closet door shut. The din of my thoughts overtakes the silence. Closing my eyes to find peace only conjures his image and with it comes the indelible impression of his kiss. Bringing a hand to my mouth, my fingers trace across my lower lip. I feel him there. The weight of his lips, the heat of his mouth, the mastery of his tongue as he spears my lips, settling for nothing less than my submission. Like an inferno, he consumes my thoughts, consumes me. My heart rate accelerates as I allow myself to fall deeper into the inappropriate fantasy. I know how wrong this is, but I can’t stop my body’s reaction.
Biting my lower lip, my eyes still closed, I see him clearly. I turn slightly, bringing my knees up as I lie back. My hand is an inadequate substitution, nothing at all like his strong masculine hands, but slowly it creeps past the waistband of my pants. Consciously I invite his cruel touch as my hand slides between my parted thighs. My breathy moans fill the air as I insert one finger and then another, imagining it’s his fingers that stroke me till I melt. I rock slowly, delve deeper, stoke the flames, and wait. It’s not until I hear the dark, sinful murmur of his voice in my mind giving me permission to come, that I let my orgasm wash over me. I ride the delicious tremors racing through my body until there is nothing left but delirium.
Panting hea
vily and whimpering with aftershocks, I throw my head back only to open my eyes in panic. The savoring doesn’t last long and just as quickly and hard as my arousal came, it vanishes in the whoosh of the shuddering breath I release. “Oh, God…” My lips begin to tremble and the tears come without conscious effort, sliding down my face and soaking the pillow beneath my head.
I exhale in tiny, shaky breaths. “No, no, no...”
A cold layer of sweat begins to form, rendering my skin damp and hot. Feeling like I’m going to suffocate beneath the weight of the blanket, I kick it off and sit up against the closet wall. It takes some time to finally get my breathing in control. With the panic subsiding, repulsion easily takes its place and I am its main target. Using the same hand I touched myself with, I angrily swipe at my cheeks, further sullying myself with my shame. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Bringing my head down and my knees up, I rest my face on the top of my knees, trembling uncontrollably. I can feel the weight of exhaustion dragging me farther down the pit of self-loathing. I let it. I rock back and forth, humming a strange, soft tune as I willingly free fall into the dark, open arms of sleep, mentally running away from my lingering thoughts of him.
Chapter Nineteen
Knox
Convincing myself that I’m not fixated on the time, that my eyes aren’t shifting every now and then to my watch is pointless. I know I’m staring, silently compelling time to move faster than it currently is. But my efforts were to no avail. In the week leading up to her capture, I’d lost myself in the diversion she’d presented. Nothing else had mattered but having her. And now that I have her, I want more. It’s like blood lust. Like my first kill. Ripping into her tight little ass had been like tearing into flesh with my scalpel. That feeling, that same incredible influx of power that rushes through me each and every time I exert dominance over my victims overtook me when I was inside her. Absolutely drugging.
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