Arson’s Captive

by Mason , V. F.

  With this, I spin around, ready to dart upstairs.

  I’m a survivor, and we never give up, no matter the circumstances.

  I take only three steps forward before I’m pulled back to Arson’s chest, his hand pressing into my stomach while his other hand cups my neck, stilling my movements and sending awareness through me. “We’ll have a problem, darling, if you keep delivering emotional outbursts all the fucking time.” His harsh words break goose bumps on my skin, and then he spins me around, pushing me against the wall as he traps me in his hold, plastering a hand on either side of my head, almost recreating our position last night.

  Except I’m not naked.

  “If you want a more compliant captive, maybe you should have them fill out a questionnaire first so you can determine if they fit your requirements.” My brows furrow as the meaning of my words settles in my brain and I cross my arms, gazing into his eyes stubbornly. “Not that you should kidnap anyone, but—”

  “Easy there, tigress.” His hand slides once again to my neck, wrapping lightly around it, but it leaves no doubt that the hold on me will tighten the moment I move. “Now let’s start again, shall we?” I almost laugh at that; he is so delusional if he thinks I’ll agree to his terms only because he’ll paraphrase them. “You are not a whore that I’m using. If that were true, I’d have fucked you in that cage a long time ago.” My breath hitches at his words, but he pays no attention to that, his thumb rubbing the underside of my chin. “All you have to do is be by my side and look pretty. Is that so bad?” His thumb travels to my lips, skimming them with the tip before he pushes on my lower one. Stepping closer to me, his scent of soap and sweat mixed together with cigarettes envelops me, creating a haze around me that I’m unable to get free from. “Everyone will know this beautiful captive belongs to me.”

  “I don’t,” I reply. My voice has turned husky for some reason while an arrow of… what is this emotion that zaps through me? I push at his chest. I can’t stand his closeness anymore, especially with his silver eyes blazing at me and his hand that slides back to my neck in a possessive way that should scare me.

  Instead, it thrills me, mixing the deep need for something along with hate for myself for even reacting to this man who should be in prison for the crimes he commits.

  “But you do, my captive. You are mine and only mine.” His fingers dig into my skin as he presses me harder against the wall, his rigid muscles squashing me, yet he still manages to protect my back from hitting the wall, sneaking his other hand there, putting it on my lower spine. “No one will ever touch you but me, darling. Your beauty might attract him, but sure as fuck, he won’t get you.” He leans closer and our lips are a breath away from each other. My heart beats wildly in my chest while my hands fist his shirt, to my shame pulling him even closer, because the craving demands to be satisfied.

  Maybe if I give my hormones what they want, they’ll calm down and allow me to hate him and use any weapon to get away from him.

  So far, judging by my actions, I can talk the talk, but I can’t walk the freaking walk!

  “You promised me freedom,” I whisper brokenly.

  “Who knows? You might not want it in the end,” he replies, his lips moving over mine, and my eyes flutter closed, expecting… expecting him to kiss me.

  But then his heat is gone, and once again I’m left standing staring at him from a distance while he breathes heavily, but still a smile curves his lips. “I stay true to my words, but it doesn’t change anything. You are mine and don’t ever forget it.” As in he won’t touch me without my permission?

  At least we have his scruples keeping me from making the biggest and most pathetic mistake of my life.

  My first kiss can’t be stolen by a serial killer.

  Only Prince Charming is worthy of the kiss for saving the princess; the villains get a kick in the gut for showing up.

  He points back at the breakfast. “Now eat and get ready for tonight.”

  My brows furrow while I place my hand over my heart and will it to calm down from the somersaults it performs inside me. “What will happen tonight?”

  “We are going out. So wear something nice.”

  Is he freaking insane?

  “I don’t have any clothes.”

  He drops back onto the chair, reaching for an apple, and takes a large bite. “You have a closet full of clothes.”

  “What?”

  “Whose do you think they are?”

  “Your girlfriend’s!” I shout, even though I hate this word in association with him.

  It’s because a man like him shouldn’t have a woman to call his own, not because of my unexplained feelings toward him.

  “Well then look in the mirror. You are my woman, so….”

  I decide to ignore this and focus on his earlier words without the desire to strangle him in his sleep.

  Pushing away all this crap about me belonging to him, because it’s so not something I want to focus on, I think back to his words that no one will be touching me and all he wants is to show me off.

  Maybe this is some old enemy with whom they had a spat over a woman? That would explain this more than some bizarre plan.

  Yet his hesitation over the whole freedom thing still bugs me.

  “That’s all I have to do? Act like your woman tonight and I’m free?”

  “I never put an end date to it. You are my woman, and the world will know it tonight.” Another large bite before he adds, “And no resistance. The world must think you are in love with me.”

  “In your dreams,” I reply, sitting back down and picking up my toast. Starvation won’t help me, so I might as well feed myself, more strength to survive this confusing situation.

  His laughter reverberates through the wall, so different from the previous ones as it’s not laced with anger but true amusement. “I don’t have dreams. Only nightmares.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Callista, 21 years old

  Entering the house and shivering a little from the cold wind, I see several guards lifting their chin in my direction as they walk back and forth, watching everyone carefully while their rifles dangle from their arms.

  They usually do such rounds every Sunday but Pastor orders them to stay home, since he keeps the woman on the second floor. She is not compliant of course and only shouts at everyone. I don’t judge her, but it kills me I can’t help her. Just one wrong word and God knows what Pastor will do to her.

  Sometimes silence and not doing anything is the only way to help a person.

  That’s why I stay outside during the day and come back home in the evenings, as listening to her shouts is unbearable and I fear one of these days I won’t be able to stop myself from helping her.

  He forbids even tending to her wounds, that fucking monster.

  Still have no clue who she is but she must be important, because he forgives her everything.

  “You are finally home.” Marcello’s voice bellows from the front door, and I see him strolling inside, his suit flapping back as he pushes one of the guards out of his way, so he blocks my way instead.

  My brows furrow at his presence; what is he doing here? Wasn’t he here just last week? Why won’t he just take the hint and stop bothering me all together?

  He chuckles, noticing my surprise, and gently rubs the wrinkles on my forehead, and I twist my head to the side so he’ll stop, and I glance upstairs.

  For the first time in forever, I really wish for Pastor to come so Marcello will stop this nonsense. “I have good news for you.” My stomach flips at his pleased tone, because whatever it is… sure as hell, it won’t be good for me. “I decided that waiting two more days for our wedding is outrageous.” His hand slides to my neck, where he squeezes it a little, blocking the air in my throat, and I wrap my hand around it, trying to snatch it away, but he doesn’t budge. “We will get married tonight, my darling.”

  He leans closer to whisper into my ear so no one else will hear. “You won’t be able to re
sist me anymore. I’ll fuck you over and over, even if your screams of pain fill the air.”

  I freeze, fear unlike anything before washing over me and knocking the air out of me while the image he created plays in my head.

  Him raping me until he thinks it’s enough, forever at his mercy.

  He pushes back, motioning with his head toward the kitchen. “Go on. Leave the tray and go to the women. They have instructions to prepare you for our wedding night.”

  Swallowing past the bile in my throat, I nod and squeeze myself between the space of his arm, because another minute more in his company and I’m going to pass out.

  He’s always had this weird spark in his eyes, as if he can’t wait to pounce on me and doesn’t even hide it. But now?

  When he knows victory is close?

  Anticipation and satisfaction along with the evil smile reflect on his face, wanting me to weep in despair and hide away from him.

  Only there is no hiding away here in heaven, is there?

  Before I can go farther though, his arm wraps around my waist and he presses me harshly against him, my gasp echoing in the hallway. “Enjoy your last hours of freedom, Chloe. Soon, nothing but a leash will grace this beautiful neck of yours that I can’t wait to bruise.” He waits a beat before delivering the last blow. “I even agreed to the mating ceremony.”

  My heart stills, and the breath catches in my throat, my lungs squeezing so hard I’m afraid I’m going to die from the lack of oxygen.

  A mating ceremony means the couple goes to their room under the watchful eyes of the guests and they must consummate the marriage while everyone listens, so when the baby comes, usually nine months after that, no one has doubts that the groom’s seed was placed there by God.

  He smiles, removing the strands of hair from my forehead, and winks at me. “No need to worry so much, golden locks.”

  Revulsion rushes through me at his touch, and I finally snap out of my stupor, stepping back and freeing myself from his hold.

  “I have to go,” I reply in a monotone, watching the pitch of my voice closely so I won’t show any turmoil to him. Not when I felt the butt of his gun digging into my hip. Antagonizing Marcello means death to some people around here, and even if I hate them all, I don’t want to have their death on my conscience.

  I dash to the kitchen, squeezing my hands so hard my knuckles are going white, and I breathe through my nose, controlling my heartbeat.

  Otherwise, I’ll sink to my knees and do something I haven’t done in so many years. Pray to God for an escape, even though I know he doesn’t give two shits about me.

  As if in a haze, I rush outside and inhale the fresh smell of the grass and close my eyes, going through various visions in my head for the things that can happen.

  Things that would.

  One is more horrific than the next.

  I look at the horizon to the endless land surrounding the town and borders, realizing that hoping for someone to come and rescue us was stupid and naïve.

  Even the woman screaming inside the house who claimed her man would come… where is he, then?

  Maybe if it was only my life at stake, I’d give in to this marriage, forever accepting the cruel fate life has granted me.

  But the marriage means stripping the innocence of all these children, dumping them in a hell they’ve never asked for, all because their parents trusted the wrong man.

  All because a girl like me has been too weak to do anything with the information she has and has allowed him to secure an alliance that gives the monster freedom to roam around here, biting on the flesh of those who never did anything to deserve it.

  Wiping away the tears forming in my eyes, I decide to do something I never wanted to, even in the deepest pits of despair where it seemed like the entire world’s purpose was to bring me unbearable pain just to see if I could handle it.

  Sacrificing my life in exchange for theirs.

  Yes, that’s what I need to do.

  If I try to escape, either the wires on the borders will kill me or the guards will once I show open resistance. Even Pastor won’t have a say in this.

  If he doesn’t have me, he doesn’t have an alliance, and everything will be all right in the world.

  With that thought in mind, I sprint to the borders, not knowing that a monster awaits me there.

  A monster who is so different from the ones I knew.

  Yet nevertheless scary, because I don’t know anything about him.

  Callista

  Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I wonder if I’ve made the right decision by agreeing to Arson’s demands.

  After our breakfast, with Ares occasionally snoring loudly, Arson told me he had errands to run and disappeared from the house for hours, leaving me roaming around it unsupervised.

  Everything here is so squeaky clean, like hospitals probably are, and tidy that multiple times I expected maids to pop up, but the house stayed silent.

  I explored the second floor, finding two empty rooms. They don’t even have furniture. I completely gave up the escape plan, because I suspected he has cameras planted all over the house to watch over me.

  But everything changed when I decided to enter the room next to the living room. Heavy oak doors protected it, but thankfully it was open, and my curiosity was fed.

  I found a spacious office with a desk and two chairs, but more importantly a library.

  An endless library with so many books on medicine one can drown in them and still have books left to read.

  Snagging around eight in my hands—I couldn’t take any more—I rushed upstairs where I stayed locked in my room and got lost in all the information on modern medicine.

  Herbalism is nice and all, and I do think plants and natural medicine have a lot of merit that can help people. But all the knowledge and ways don’t compare to what I discovered on the pages of those books.

  So many discoveries, treatment for various diseases, and theories. Also in-depth explanations on some of the illnesses that I couldn’t even dream of reading before.

  I even took a book about psychos and serial killers, what drives them and their victimology.

  The world has so much information, while people in “heaven” continued to die from minor infections, only because Pastor couldn’t be bothered to bring us medication.

  All this reading uncovered anew the longings in my heart to be a doctor who can help people, a dream that will never come true now.

  But my nirvana ended quickly when Arson came back and shouted I had to be ready in two hours, and only then it dawned on me it was dark outside.

  So here I am, turning from side to side, examining the dress and how it fits my body.

  Despite Pastor not liking anything modern, he did his best to present me in a good light in front of the Smiths, so I always had women bringing me dresses and bragging about different designs and shoes.

  Running my fingers over the dresses Arson bought for me, and with his mind on presenting me as his woman, I settle on a red bustier tulle dress with a flowing skirt that ends slightly below my knee. The corset with two tiny straps emphasizes my waist and hips while the skirt manages to give me a softer look.

  I’ve applied minimum makeup, just mascara, and left my golden locks cascading down my spine but pinning them back so they won’t get in my face. I picked pin heels for it that snuggled firmly around my foot.

  I’ve never paid so much attention to my outfit before, but I’m not sure what Arson wants, besides me looking good. Does he want to impress that man or what? Or is he supposed to fall in lust with me with one glance only?

  Not that I think my beauty is capable of enchanting anyone like that.

  Shaking my head and giving myself one last glance, I pick up the black clutch from the bed and go downstairs, my heels clicking loudly and probably alerting him to my presence.

  “I’m ready,” I announce to an empty house, since Arson is nowhere in sight, only Ares snoring loudly on his cushion. I think he
moves only when his owner arrives, barks loudly, and then falls back asleep.

  Such a weird but oddly cute dog, not that I’m going to admit it to anyone. “Have fun, Ares,” I say, and he stirs a little, but that’s about it.

  Opening the door wide, I spot Arson a few feet away, standing by the pool while the wind gently blows his long coat back. If it wasn’t for the blue hair, I’d think he was a demon who came to claim my soul, for only the color black is present in his attire. He is wearing black jeans, boots, and sweater judging by the high neck peeking out from his coat collar.

  He looks in my direction, and I’m momentarily stopped by the intensity of his silver pools as he roams them all over me, his hands tightening for a fraction of a second on the railing around the pool, but then he steps back from it, coming to me, and all I can do is stand glued to the spot, awaiting his reaction.

  And a small part of me, the feminine part that is too stupid to understand a predator stands in front of me, wonders if he likes how I look tonight.

  When the tips of his boots touch my shoes, he stops, and with his low voice that sends shivers down my spine, once again confusing my mind with desires that have no place, he says, “You look gorgeous.” I blink at the unusual compliment from his lips that almost seems a bit clumsy, like he has never spoken such words. Then he mutters something under his breath before removing his coat and throwing it over my shoulders, ordering, “Put your arms into the sleeves.” Only then do I realize how my body trembles from the cold, and I do as he says, sighing in relief when his scent and warmth wraps around me. “There was a coat waiting for you by the door.”

  “I didn’t see it. But… thank you,” I whisper, and he holds my gaze for a second before spinning around and dragging me to the waiting car, the engine running.

  I shouldn’t be this nice to him, but we’re supposed to act like a couple, right? I can’t scratch his eyes out. Who knows, maybe that man he wants to hunt watches over him and that’s why he is so nice?

  And you don’t want it either.

  I shush the annoying voice in my head and sit inside the car, as he closes the door and walks to his seat, before speedily driving toward the gate.