Chapter Seventeen #2
My feet hit the cold wooden floors below, and I take in the doused fireplace across from me, the massive dresser along the left wall, and the vanity that looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.
I notice a pair of my shorts folded neatly on the leather chair close to the bed and grab them before yanking them on.
“Is this a hunting lodge?” I question out loud as I shuffle towards the door.
Oh, god.
Where the fuck am I?
I frantically search for any kind of weapon, but notice that the base near the fireplace is empty. The iron tools used to tend to the flame are gone, and the hope in my chest fizzles out.
I lift a hand to my neck, only to stop when I feel something there. I grab the chain, wrath burning me alive as I realize there’s a fucking collar wrapped around my throat.
One glance in the vanity’s mirror, and my teeth grind. It’s black, with a piece that hangs down close to the bright purple bruise Rowan left on my skin. When I pull it, it tightens until I’m choking myself.
“What…THE FUCK?!” I shout, not caring if my captor is in the house. I’m going to lose my damn mind!
I storm towards the door, yanking it open as I’m met with a silent, dark hallway.
An eerie feeling creeps along my neck, but it doesn’t douse my fury as I tear through the house.
I stalk down the stairs, my bare heels smacking into the steps with a thud as I grab the end of the handrail and round into a cozy living room.
There’s a dark leather recliner and a matching sofa next to it.
I find another fireplace, and the mantle has a single photo on it.
The frame is face down, and it makes me pause in my war path.
I turn and peer into the dark kitchen, my eyes narrowing as I observe the pendant lights hanging over the wide island.
I’m alone.
My eyes shift to the elegant front door, and my feet move without thought. I step onto the welcome mat and grab the doorknob. When I turn the knob, it doesn’t budge. I try the locks, turning them every which way until I’m struck by the bone-chilling discovery that it’s locked from the outside.
I step back, my mind going numb as I feel the walls closing in on me.
This isn’t real.
This can’t be happening right now.
Where did it all go wrong?
I lift my hand to my chest, and the slamming rhythm of my heart jolts my brain. A switch flips as I recognize that I’m in a survival situation.
I have to find a weapon. Freaking out won’t help me when Rowan comes back.
I head straight for the kitchen, pulling on drawers as I rifle through my captor’s belongings. I find a lot of plastic utensils, but nothing that can knock someone out. A wooden block on the counter catches my eye, and I curse when I notice all of the knives have been removed.
“There has to be something!” I hiss, ripping open more drawers.
When I get to the one that’s meant to hold spoons and forks, the drawer is empty, save for the plastic holder with designated cubbies.
I slam it shut, pacing as I tuck my hands behind my head.
I close my eyes, mumbling calming words to myself before I try again.
This time, I open the cabinets and find stacks of perfect plates.
I go to close it before an idea sparks, and I grab one.
I turn it over in my hands, nodding as I test the weight. It isn’t my first choice, but it’ll work.
The sound of muffled, distant voices from outside reaches my ears, and I freeze. My heart thumps painfully as the lock on the door jiggles, and I brace myself.
It’s now or never, Addie.
I hold up the plate, taking aim as my teeth grit. “Come and get me, mother fucker.”
When the door swings open, I throw with all my strength, watching as some big, familiar dude ducks, and the ceramic shatters behind him.
A woman I’ve met before with long black hair watches with amusement as her eyes light up. “New friend!”
Rowan lingers in the doorway, guilt turning his features downward as he stares at me.
“Stay the fuck away from me! All of you!” I shout, my breathing turning into harsh pants as my chest heaves.
The big guy rights himself, shock blinking across his features as he holds up a finger. “One moment.”
He grabs my captor and the woman who looks like she’s frothing at the mouth before slamming the door and leaving me alone in the living room. My arms fall to my sides at the anti-climactic moment, and I blink at the door as an argument ensues outside.
I hear hyena laughter from the woman, Thalia, I presume, as if she’s heard the funniest joke ever. Then she peeks in through the window before a hand yanks her away by her collar.
The front door opens, and my guard shoots up as I take a step back. Rowan lingers in the doorway, arguing with his sister, who is fighting to get past him.
“Go home, Thalia,” he barks.
The dark-haired woman ignores him and side-steps his bulky figure as she points at me. “I’m gonna get you out of here!”
Hope sparks, and I open my mouth to thank her before she cements herself as delusional, too.
“You can stay with me!” She pushes against my captor, who holds her back over the threshold. “We can have sleepovers, and I’ll only lock you in my basement if you try to run!”
Rowan plants a hand over her face, pushing her back until she stumbles onto the porch. “Not helping!”
“Oh, come on!” She pleads, a wicked grin stretching her lips. “My basement is cooler than yours. Has she seen the interrogation shed yet? Show her that first!”
He grabs the door before slamming it closed in her face. He holds a hand to the wood, waiting until we hear her receding steps on the porch before his shoulders sag and he sighs.
He turns, something on the tip of his tongue, before I stop him.
“Fuck you!” I spit, my hand coming up to twist the chain around my throat. “What is this?! You drug me, kidnap me, bite me, and then collar me? What kind of sick, twisted fantasy—”
He storms across the room, his long legs eating up the distance between us. He moves quicker than light, standing before me in three long strides before he grabs the chain and yanks it. It constricts around my throat as he leans down until we’re eye level.
“Make no fucking mistake, Sunshine.” He seethes.
“If this were my fantasies, you would still be tied up, and writhing with so much pleasure you couldn’t speak.
You would be my plaything.” There’s a burning intensity to his eyes that pins me where I stand.
Being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling his skin against mine where his fist rests over the base of my neck, has my brain turning to complete mush.
My lips quiver, my fight dying a quick and sudden death as we stare into each other.
The heat in his gaze turns to liquid amber as his eyes soften a fraction.
He reaches up with his free hand, brushing my hair away from my face as he tucks a strand behind my ear.
“What are you doing to me, Addison?” His voice is quiet in the space between us, the deep timber making my eyes flutter. “Why do I want you so badly?”