A Beautiful Nightmare: A Novel

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A Beautiful Nightmare: A Novel Page 11

by Shana Vanterpool


  “And then we slept together.”

  “And then we slept together.” He sighed again. This time sadder. “I thought that would be an end to the sexual tension, to the want, to the hours spent thinking about you. I wanted an appointment every day. Every single day, I wanted to see you.” He laughed breathlessly. “But it’s one of the worst things an MK member can do, let alone the kingpin’s son. I kept it a secret, only went when I knew no one would miss me. Once we slept together, it was like you didn’t know me. You refused to talk to me. Stopped wearing your sexy outfits. Barely met my eyes. You killed me,” he breathed, on the cusp of heartbreak.

  And I could bring up my abduction again, point out the terror I endured, his instability, but instead, I accepted what I’d done. Because I did it. I slept with a sick patient, and then watched him break. I’m the reason we were here.

  I shifted in his arms to grasp his face. I brought his lips close and said I was sorry the only way I could. His stubble was growing beneath my palm, shadows overtaking his strong handsome jaw, a calendar to how long we’d already been here. “I’m sorry.”

  “Apologies no longer matter. You’re here now. In my arms. That’s all that matters.” He gave my top lip a gentle kiss. “Your eyes have never been able to lie to me.” His hand settled on my bottom and gave me a soft pat. “Up.”

  I settled back against his chest. “Which one of my outfits were your favorite?”

  With a frustrated chuckle, his small pat on my ass increased in intensity. “Up.”

  “Mine was the dark red skirt I wore the day we made love. Or the black stockings you ripped off, the black thong panties you annihilated. You made me feel sexy, powerful, and flawless all with a single look.” I shook my head against his chest, feeling too many things to say anymore. Regret, nostalgia, want, and … confusion. I had no idea who I was, so I closed my eyes and kissed his chest. That made sense. Kissing Dash, wanting the Dash who made me feel like my insides weren’t foreign objects using me for rent.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but my point is clear.” He spanked my ass harder. “Up.”

  “I like a good spanking, Dash. You’re not scaring me.”

  He palmed me, grabbing a fistful of my ass—a far less impressive handful since I arrived here. “Did Denny spank you?”

  I froze. “Dash.”

  “Yes or no.” His tone chilled. Ice and rage simmered from his body.

  “It was mutual.”

  His anger froze momentarily. “What was?”

  Heat moved over my body, making me red. “Dash.”

  He grabbed my chin and forced my eyes on his. “Tell me.”

  “We … were … kinky? You know, like all healthy loving relationships.” I ripped my chin free and rose. “Up.”

  “You guys … what? Traded blows?”

  I rolled my eyes and searched for my panties. I needed a shower. “Don’t make it sound that way.”

  “Who spanked who?”

  I grabbed my cami and plunged it over my head. “I stink. Like you. Because you … you … use my feelings against me.”

  He rolled his eyes at my pathetic attempt to deflect, gazing up at me with his mouth thinned and jaw tense. “I love rough sex. Dirty sex. Sex with love. Sex that makes me feel human, that makes me feel inhuman. But I don’t get off on pain, causing it or getting it, so get over that shit now. We’re not hitting each other. We’re only going to love each other. Like no one ever has.”

  A mutual sadness entered our eyes, reflected in the other. My eyes may be blue and his gold, but right now they could have been switched.

  “Go shower,” he murmured. “Once you get out the fight is over.”

  I opened my mouth to argue—this fight wasn’t over at all in my book—but the depth in his eyes frightened me into silence. His episode could tip in any pool, and right now negative was the only option.

  “It’s over, Kinley. We will exist in this kingdom in the way I intended. I don’t want to talk about pills or what I’ve done to put you here anymore.”

  Sex did this.

  Lust did this.

  I did this.

  Again.

  If Dash were any other man, I wouldn’t be here, wanting him, covered in his sweat, tender between my legs, sated by him. The scales had tipped once again in his favor. I was losing my grip.

  “This isn’t over.”

  “Yes, it is.” He moved to stand in one fluid motion. “Go. I’ll have your coffee ready.”

  With a frustrated growl, which was aimed more toward myself, I took off for the bathroom, forgetting my shorts. I ripped the rest of my clothes off along the way and stepped into the shower. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over. We were still locked inside his delusion.

  Sex with Dash was too powerful. It altered the ground beneath my feet every time we did it. A kiss shook the waves. A touch the land. Sex shattered the earth, forcing the cracks that separated us to bond. I got out of the shower shakily, toweling off and dressing at the same time.

  No more sex.

  No more sex.

  No more damn sex.

  I repeated this in my head, throwing things at my body. Deodorant, hairbrush, even lotion. I had a brief thought that I was beginning to become more human, but that would mean my adaptations were getting deeper. Soon, the walls would be a barrier. The height from which we distanced ourselves would be preferred. And I wasn’t done lying yet.

  Lies got me this far. If Dash thought I would shed them overnight, he was the one lying to himself.

  The vents in the back of the closet began to blow cool air as I struggled into a pair of striped sleep shorts. With it, came the smell of rich beautiful coffee. I sank to my knees and inhaled it, letting the aroma fill my lungs. I followed the trail like a fiend, right up to the kitchen counter.

  There sat a mug of freshly brewed coffee. Steam rose from the black ceramic cup. I leaned over and inhaled, moaning from the bottom of my soul. It looked perfectly creamy. I scooped it up and brought it to my lips, swallowing a delectable mouthful.

  “You need to start eating more.”

  I ignored him as he rummaged around in the kitchen. It was just me with my coffee and the small shred of bliss I momentarily existed within.

  “Drinking water.”

  I savored the taste.

  “Taking care of yourself the way you did.”

  I licked the rim of my mug.

  “We need to start making this our home.”

  “Right. I’ll just forget the fact that there’s no way out. And this isn’t my home. Oh, and you bought me. We can’t overlook that either.”

  He mumbled something under his breath, but in my rant, I didn’t catch it.

  “What?” My mug remained poised close to my lips. I stared at his bare back. Muscles corded his shoulders and spine. Pale, hard, muscles. His waist was pronounced and his shoulders broad. I imagined digging my nails into him. Marking him. I loved marking what I wanted. His black shorts hung low on his hips, showing me the top of his ass. Was he doing this on purpose? Distracting me on purpose?

  Making me want him on purpose?

  He looked over his shoulder and met my eyes boldly. “What are you wearing?”

  I looked down at my clothes. My cami was sheer cream silk. My breasts were practically on display. “A cami.”

  “Stand.”

  “What?”

  “Stand up. Show me your beautiful body.”

  Heat snaked over me. “No.”

  He walked around the bar, grabbed my hand in one of his, and my coffee in the other. He set it down and pulled me, so that I stood before him. His eyes traveled over me hungrily, desire making them glow gold. He studied my breasts, eyes smoldering when my nipples hardened under his gaze. He traced my curves, my hips, my legs poking out of my sleeping shorts. I wasn’t matching—hadn’t really thought of my appearance whatsoever past deodorant and shaving.

  “Even with your weight loss, you are divine. Curves for days. Full round breasts
. A plump ass.” He stepped close and grabbed my face softly between his hands. “But this, Kinley, is my favorite part. Your azure eyes, your rosy cheeks, the dark and light in your eyes, the truth.” He kissed my lips tenderly, eyes ablaze. “You’re the perfect woman to me. In here,” he said, tapping my temple. “And out here.” His lips began to lift. “You make me so hard I fear I may bust.”

  He did it on purpose.

  His eyes weren’t hungry. They were devouring my every inch. My body, my insides, the part of me Dash knew without ever meeting. I closed my eyes. “Stop.”

  His lips caressed mine once more. “Open your eyes. I want you to know what love really looks like. What it feels like. None of this was to hurt you, my queen. It was to have you. It was to save us both.”

  My eyelids fluttered open. Golden fire raced over me, blanketing me in warmth so intense a sweat broke out across my lower back and palms. “Can I finish my coffee?”

  “You may.” He released me. “You don’t have a favorite food, do you? I didn’t get the impression food was your Achilles heel.”

  I sank back down at the bar, grabbing my coffee like it would save me from this mess. Or keep me inside.

  “It isn’t.” I had a feeling I was looking at my Achilles heel.

  He nodded contemplatively. “Fresh food’s gone. There’s enough dry and non-perishable food in the stockroom for a long time.”

  I looked around for it. “Where is it?”

  “You mean you didn’t find it during your many searches?” He turned away and opened the cupboard, pulling down the toaster pastries. “It has a sensor. The stockroom isn’t hidden.”

  “Have you been watching me?” My search was renewed. The only way he’d know I was searching was if he watched as I did so. My eyes skirted around the room for cameras. It seemed I could never relax. Not for one second could I let my guard down. Secrets seeped through the holes. My eyes flashed to his side of the room when he smirked, dropping four pastries into the toaster. “Of course you have.” Maybe that’s why I wasn’t allowed on his side of the kingdom. The cameras probably showed the way out.

  As if reading my thoughts, he shook his head, eyes stuck on the toaster. “You’re so worried about the exit, you haven’t even considered its true presence. Or permanence.”

  I frowned at my coffee. I knew its purpose. I was its purpose. My brain began to churn. Didn’t I? Didn’t I know the purpose of this place? While Dash ripped open the plastic on fruit bars and the tab on the soymilk, I tried to fight through my confusion. But when he set out our meal, its ridiculousness distracted me. “How old are we?”

  He settled in the chair beside me at the bar. As he passed, his scent wafted over me, male, musky, and smelling strongly of something feminine. Me. Dash smelled like me. “Our options are small.”

  Our? Since when were we a team? I picked up a pastry and brought it to my lips. The taste of cherries and frosting filled my mouth. “Where are the cameras?”

  “Mostly on the ground floor. There shouldn’t be anyone in the garage. Power has been cut for the sixty stories below. But there are two control boxes. On our floor and on the first.”

  “Who would turn the controls back on?” I laughed in disbelief, staring at his jaw work through his food.

  He met my eyes. “You never know.” Something lurked in his eyes, but he blinked it away, the way one would a truth they weren’t ready to tell.

  I looked around the room slowly, taking it in differently in the span of seconds. What if these seamless walls weren’t to keep me in, but to keep someone out? No one could come up here. They couldn’t find an entrance that didn’t exist. My stomach dropped to the floor. What if there really wasn’t an exit, because if we could get out, someone else could get in?

  I turned back to him in horror. “Who would want to come up here, Dash?”

  He chewed quietly, attention on his food.

  “You brought me here to keep me here.”

  He swallowed, moving to take a drink of warm soymilk from his mug.

  “Right?” I’d wondered, why here? Why not somewhere else? Why keep me in this city on top of the world? On top of everyone we knew? “You brought me here for me.”

  “Eat your food,” he snapped, making me flinch. “Once you know, you know. Are you ready to know? I won’t be the bad guy anymore. You want me to be the bad guy. You need me to be. Otherwise it’s just you and me against the world. You’re not ready to fight with me.”

  I stared at him, feeling my brain squirm. What if all this time, Dash hadn’t locked me in a tower? What if he’d locked someone out? At this suspicion, I was truly lost. There was no one in my life that would force his hand. Denny had made his stance clear. He sold me; what more could he want with me? The pastries turned to lead in my stomach. I had no one. Wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that what made my forgotten name so hard to accept?

  “Eat,” he ordered, his tone softer. “I was wondering if you could help with laundry when we’re done.” With a self-deprecating smile, he shrugged. “I forgot to install a washer and dryer.”

  I was sure he forgot. “Well, seeing as how you planned on kidnapping a woman, I can see how trivial things like washers and dryers could be overlooked.” I gave him a sweet smile.

  He ignored me, taking a drink of his own coffee, gold eyes aggravated.

  I wondered what else he forgot. Washers and dryers weren’t necessities. I hadn’t had them growing up. But coffee wasn’t either, and yet we had those. I loved coffee, could do without washers and dryers. Was it about what I loved? Or was it about what I could do without? “Yes, I’ll help,” I mumbled, staring into the rich brown depths of my drink.

  “We can exist up here safely. You, me. What more do we need?” He picked at his pastry, smearing the red jam all over his fingers. “Because that’s all we have now, Kinley. I’m content. You should be too.”

  He rose, leaving behind his dismantled breakfast. I couldn’t help picturing it as a warning. He’d made me the same meal, and yet his was destroyed. I stared at the blood-like smears as he disappeared into his side of the kingdom. Once alone, I turned around in my seat, gazing at the expanse in front of me. If I wanted to keep someone out, where would I hide? I bit my lip, dragging my teeth over it in brutal contemplation. I’d never had to hide. Who was there to look for me? But if I did, if for some reason I was running, would I leave entirely? Or would I remain right where they wouldn’t look?

  Dash emerged with a hamper in hand. He set it down in the middle of the room and walked over to a seemingly bare wall. Then he looked at me and quirked one brow. “You missed one.” And then he touched a sensor in the wall. The wall yawned open to a carnivorous room. My heart dropped, and I slipped down the chair to my feet like a puppet, drawn to the depth of his insanity. Shelves and shelves, dozens of them, were filled to the brim with supplies. Canned food, soaps, towels, food boxes, bags of coffee—both instant and ground—every single thing a man would need to keep him and his prisoner sated existed in this secret room.

  I slipped around his body and stepped inside. In order for this room to exist, it had to take some of the space on his side of the kingdom. Mine was too open for me not to notice a huge rectangular blockage. I closed my eyes in realization, and smiled sadly at nothing.

  “They’re elevators. The doors in the wall. They’re all elevators.”

  “I couldn’t tear them out without tearing out everything, so I made use of them. Excuse me.”

  I opened my eyes to find him kneeling near a cluster of detergent. I stepped aside for him. He grabbed a bottle, opened the cap, and looked back up at me in question. I shrugged. I had bigger things on my mind than the smell of laundry soap. Capping it, he rose, leaving me in the room as my stomach clashed with fear and wonder. Dash was insane, intelligent and twisted. A gorgeous man who had more logic and instability in his brain than one man should. A pink package caught my attention, and I blushed, eyeing the rows and rows of tampons and sanitary napkins. I scoured the room
for condoms next, knowing they wouldn’t be far. He didn’t disappoint. He had enough condoms to keep us safe for years, even if we had sex twice a day. I could only imagine where he got them all. Did he get a perverts discount for buying them in bulk, or were they one price for being a conscientious abductor?

  “Prick,” I grumbled, leaving the room behind with an angry swipe over the sensor. The door slid shut behind me. I was allowed in there. I wondered what else I’d missed. With a suspicious glance cast around the living area, I entered my open doorway and crossed my bedroom to find Dash bent over the tub. “Was I that bad of a liar?”

  His face was impassive as he scrubbed what looked like jeans in the tub. His shirt was off, and suds coated his forearms. “Yes, but about what in particular?”

  Cute. “The condoms.”

  He paused his scrubbing, thought about it, and then resumed. “You made love to me on your desk. That we would do it again wasn’t up for debate. Whether we have enough condoms?” He looked up at me, his eyes shimmering. “Still is.”

  I huffed, staring down at him in irritation. I hadn’t exactly given him any other idea, and frankly, with his wet muscled arms covered in soapy water, I didn’t want to. And it scared me. One messy orgasmic haze and I was already falling deeper into my prison. I had to pry myself free of the lust, of the part of me who knew herself when she locked with him. Sadness spread through me so quickly my legs buckled, and I sank to the marble floors, staring numbly at him as he washed his clothes in my tub. His underwear, his shirts, his shorts. He washed everything as I contemplated my life truly without him. Weeks ago, it had been the only thing I wanted. But that was going six months without feeling wanted. Over a year without being grounded. And that I was considering this prison and its walls, made everything inside of me hurt.

  I was losing it.

  Lost it.

  All because of him.

  Dash moved around me, opening drawers, setting items out, until the sound of a blow dryer tore me from my downfall.

  He pointed it meticulously over his clothes draped over my counter. Dash had thought of everything, and that he hadn’t included a washer and dryer made me truly wonder why, now that I knew he had to work around the elevators. This was a skyscraper, and though its purpose could be anything, its initial design had been office buildings. Floors and floors of office buildings. The elevators were built from the floor up, and he couldn’t get rid of them without compromising the floorplan. If anything, they’d made his prison even stronger. I thought of the office buildings I’d been in, how high up they were, how quickly the elevators could get you from the bottom to the top. If the power was cut, then one of them still had to work. There was an elevator on this floor.

 

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