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My imagination ran away with me, and I couldn’t get it back under control. Images of being left here for days on end. Starving and alone. I never thought being alone would be so hard to endure, but the silence was like a knife being dragged across my skin. The fear of not knowing. The waiting. Unsure for how long I’d be left here.
I stood hanging by my arms, my tiptoes barely holding me up. Agony ate its way through my muscles as I shook uncontrollably.
Then, finally . . . footsteps.
Voices.
The door opened, and I gasped, choking back the sobs. My chest heaved with relief and yet . . . uncertainty. I knew I wasn’t supposed to cry, and if I did he may leave me here longer.
Voices closed in on me.
Logan’s and someone else’s. The footsteps drew closer, and I tensed, waiting for the pain or a caress. I didn’t know which. I couldn’t. My body was so distressed with the frantic worry that I was sweating. I took deep breaths like Logan had taught me in self-defence to control my fear.
But that was what he wanted—fear. Well, he had it. I was living in an ocean of it.
The familiar scent of Raul drifted into me, and my nerves sparked.
Please. No. Don’t let him take me.
I’d do anything, absolutely anything so that Raul didn’t take me.
“I will not tolerate her behavior in my house, Sculpt. Some of the men asked me why I hadn’t killed her for the disrespect. ”
“I know how you operate, Raul,” Logan replied.
Raul’s hand traced up over my breast, rough calloused hands far different than Logan’s. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood in my mouth. “Trust is earned, Sculpt. You must earn that. As must she. ” His fingers gripped my chin. “She is very beautiful. When you tire of her, she’ll make a good amount on auction. ”
“I suspect she will. But for now, she is mine. Aren’t you, Emily?”
Never. Never again. “Yes. ” I knew my voice was trembling. Logan, God, don’t do this to me. Even though I couldn’t see, I felt Logan tense. It was like the air stopped for a brief second as the room went silent.
“If you lose the fight, she’ll be sold. ”
“I won’t lose. ”
Raul’s finger slipped across my dry lips, and I knew what I was supposed to do. I didn’t want to do it, and my stomach churned violently at the thought of what I had to do. But I did. I couldn’t face that room downstairs again. Not now. I didn’t know if I ever could again. I slipped my tongue out and licked it then drew it into my mouth.
Raul chuckled. “Better. ” He let me suckle on it for a few seconds then withdrew.
My heart was pounding so hard, I swore they could hear it. The tears sat in the rims of my eyes, teetering like a ball on a ledge. I clenched my fingers into fists, nails digging into my palm, trying desperately to focus on anything but what was happening.
I was glad I was blindfolded. It may have kept the fear alive of the unknown, but it also saved me from seeing Raul. Of looking into his narrowed eyes as I sucked his finger. I’d have never been able to force myself to do it if I’d been able to see his face. Had Logan known that? Was there a reason to him keeping me blindfolded? No. I had to stop fantasizing Logan was in any way helping me.
“You’re a lot like me, Sculpt,” Raul said. “Determined. Resilient. And I see that merciless confidence when you fight. ”
“I’m nothing like you, Raul,” Logan replied. “I have what you don’t, and that is patience. ”
Raul laughed. “Ahh, you know me well. Yes, that is true. I’m not a patient man. ” Footsteps shifted, and the hardwood floor creaked. “She makes one mistake, and she leaves. I won’t have disobedience in my home—ever. You should know that, Sculpt. ”
The door opened and closed then I heard a key turn in the lock. Silence. They’d both left. The sobs choked me as I broke into a thousand fragments. Why did he hate me so much to do this to me? What had I done wrong? Why me?
The blindfold was soaked by my tears. The pain had gone . . . No, it was there; my mind had faded it out in order to survive. What remained was weakness. That was how I felt. Too tired to fight. Afraid to fight.
And God yes . . . I wanted to be loved by him again. For him to hold me in his arms and take this nightmare away.
Did I really think that? How could my mind even contemplate loving him after what he’s put me through? But I did. I couldn’t control it. He’d swept me up and taken possession of my heart, even though he was now ripping it to shreds.
But I wanted Logan to save me.
I wanted the man I fell in love with to carry me away from this place.
And I wanted him to carry me away . . . and then . . . then I wanted to kill him.
The door opened a while later. I was half-aware of Logan’s hands on my wrists as he undid the ropes and the blindfold. I was too weak and tired to do anything except fall into his arms.
He picked me up and carried me to a bed and then pulled a white silk nightgown over my head. I thought I heard him whisper something to me as he laid me down, but the pain in my body overrode his useless words as my body screamed with agony.
He walked away then came back, and the mattress sagged as he sat beside me. He took my right hand first, gently washed it with warm water then applied cream to my burned-raw skin. He slowly massaged my cold, numb fingers then repeated the process with my other wrist and hand. I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted. It felt good, and yet I wanted the pain as a reminder of what he’d done to me.
He placed the cream on the nightstand, and grabbed a bottle of water beside it and held it to my lips. I didn’t hesitate as I greedily drank. When I’d drained half of it, he pulled it away, and put it back. I watched as he stood, peeled off his clothes until he stood naked. Was he going to sleep with me? Have sex with me? Was he going to make me? Did he think it was okay because I’d willingly had sex with him once?
He stared down at me. I stared back. Neither of us moved for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds.
He looked beautiful, and it pissed me off that he could look so beautiful when he was so ugly. He pulled back the sheet and then slipped in beside me. I turned around and tried to scoot away, but he expected it and was ready, arms locking around my middle and dragging back against him, so my back was tight to his chest. I tensed as the pain from the welts intensified. He didn’t lighten his hold as he then hooked his leg over mine like an anchor, the weight pinning me in place.
It was weird, the touch of his warm skin and his arms around me . . . it was comforting. As if I’d been starved that feeling of kindness, and that I’d take it from the man who had stolen it from me in the first place.
God, was I that weak to take any gentleness that was offered?
His lips pressed to my ear, and my breath caught in my throat. Why? Why was he doing this? I was so confused at who he was. Cold and unattached one moment and now . . . now he was holding me in his arms as if he cared.
Logan’s fingers splayed over my stomach just below my belly button. I wanted to cry. Not for the pain that he was putting me through but for this moment that made me love him again.
I needed him to be cruel. It was easier to be disgusted by him.
But this . . .
I tried to push his arm off and move away, but he tightened his hold. “Stay still, Emily. ”
I stopped.
He won. He’d told me that once. He always won.
As I lay in bed staring at the wall, my wrists sore, muscles aching from shivering for so long. I felt myself slipping. Not my mind, but myself. It was as if my body was separated from my thoughts and emotions.
I realized it felt safer this way. My body was just an apparatus, something to be used. It had no real value any longer. I could let it go and drift away to safer pastures with my mind. Some place where no one could reach me.
Even Logan.
But I missed him. It w
as crazy, I knew, but somewhere a part of me still loved the man that I’d fallen for. The man who kissed me and made love to me as if he thought I was the most precious woman in the world.
But that tiny memory of the Logan I knew was slipping past my reach. He was fading, and I wanted to latch onto him before he slipped away from me forever. In the darkness, in the familiar arms of a man I once loved, I pretended. I pretended that he was the Logan I fell in love with and he was here to protect me from the daylight and the reality that came with morning.
I closed my eyes; the heat of his naked body up against mine and then . . . then just as I was falling asleep I felt his fingers interlink with mine and his lips kiss the back of my shoulder.
Chapter 5
Day 8
I woke to find Logan still curled around me, his head nestled in my shoulder, lips on my skin. His heated breath was slow and even to match his heartbeat against my back. His arm lay heavy over my side, and our fingers weaved together like lovers after a night of passion.
I squeezed my eyes shut imagining nothing in the last week had been real and that I lay in Logan’s arms after he made love to me. He’d wake up and kiss me, and I’d be lost within his touch.
I felt the ache between my legs as I let my imagination roam. His thigh resting over mine, hard and warm. Him on top, the feel of his weight making my desire flood every nerve in my body.
His hands caressing my skin, soft then possessive as if he couldn’t get enough of me. I moaned as I imagined his fingers playing with my hair while his other hand squeezed our interlocked fingers. Then his lips kissed my shoulder, and I nearly leapt out of my skin when the desire shot right through me, and I realized it was no longer my imagination.
I scrambled out of his arms so fast that I fell off the bed. When I came to my feet Logan was lying on his back an arm casually laid over his abdomen. He turned slightly to look at me, and I felt the coldness in his gaze trickle over me.
“Go shower, Emily. ” He nodded to the right where I saw a door.
I didn’t think twice about following his orders as I ran to the refuge of the bathroom, but before I could shut the door he said, “Leave it open. ”
My hand dropped from the door handle even though all I wanted to do was slam it shut and lock it; of course there was no lock to keep him out. Regardless, a deadbolt wouldn’t keep Logan out. I suspected nothing would.
In a way, that was partly why I fell for him. He was determined and focused. Unfathomable. He was confident with no fear. A steady resolve as if nothing could break him. It was a scary hot, and it made me feel protected. Now . . . it scared me. Because now I didn’t trust him.
I started to undo the buttons of my white nightgown he’d given me to wear, and when I looked in the mirror I gasped. He could see me. From the bed he watched me in the mirror undressing. His hands were locked behind his head, and his face was unreadable as he stared.
My fingers fumbled on the buttons, and it took me several tries to get the last one undone. I closed my eyes as I slid the silk material off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I wasn’t going to look at him, I tried to stop myself, but I opened my eyes and froze.
Heat. Blazing desire in the dark depths of his eyes. He looked me up and down slowly, casually as if he had all the time in the world . . . And he did. He controlled everything about me now. If he became bored or annoyed with me he could sell me without a moment’s hesitation. That alone made me do anything he wanted.