Chapter 6
Myles
The hallways stink of wood rot and stale air, shadows thick enough to choke on.
I slow when I reach the holding room door. Something feels different. Calmer somehow.
Zane.
Throwing the door open, I burst into the room expecting to find that he’s stolen my new pet and set her free.
She squeaks, flinching like a kicked dog, and pulls herself into a ball, wrapping a threadbare blanket around her body.
What the fuck?
That snake! Coming in here to play the hero. Trying to undermine the work I’m putting in.
Should’ve known he couldn't resist. But at least he wasn't dumb enough to try and take what's mine. I’ll make sure she never looks at him the way I want her to look at me.
Shoving my annoyance down for now, I refocus on her. She looks even smaller in the daylight. Fragile. Just like Zane said.
Pale skin, a little sunburn across her cheeks. But the dirt from yesterday is gone.
That must have also been Zane’s doing. He better not have touched her.
Delicate wrists curl in toward her chest, fingers wrapped tight in the edge of the blanket. Those stormy blue eyes fixed on me as if I’m death itself.
She’s terrified.
Her fear slicks my spine in heat, and I’m already straining in my pants, cock aching as if it knows what’s coming.
This might take some time, but she'll come around. Just like I know Phoenix will.
Once she realises that I'm the one keeping her alive, she'll look at me like she needs me. Like she wants me. And I can't wait to see that look on her face.
I move forward and lean against the bars, holding the tin of fruit between them.
“Good morning, little doe,” I greet, voice low with amusement. “Brought you some breakfast.”
Nothing. Just that wide eyed stare.
“Don't worry. I didn't poison it,” I chuckle, forcing a smile.
But I still get nothing from her. Not even a flinch. God, she's stubborn.
Pulling my arm back from between the bars, I crouch instead, resting my elbows on my knees for balance.
“You know...” I say slowly, turning the can of fruit in my hand. “You look like you're waiting for me to rip you apart.”
Her fingers twitch tighter around the blanket. My eyes catch the movement and spark something primal in me.
“I could, you know. If I wanted to. No one’s stopping me.”
Her breath hitches. And fuck, it gives me chills.
“But I won't,” I add in a casual tone. “Not unless you make me.” Leaning closer to the bars, I lower my voice as if we're sharing secrets. “See, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm the nice one.”
Giving her a crooked grin, I settle back on my heels, tapping the spoon against the bars like I have all the time in the world. “You’re lucky it was me that found you and not someone else. You think I dragged you here just to bleed you dry? Nah. I just like... pretty things.”
I let the words settle in the air between us, but she stays silent and frozen.
“You think I'm the bad guy,” I murmur, more to myself. “Maybe I am. But you’ll learn to love me.”
Looking over her tiny frame, my annoyance over the blanket builds again. It’s hiding her body from me.
“See, the way I see it? I saved you. It's real dangerous out there, and you had nothing but a rusty little knife on you.
Not even a jacket to protect you from the cold.
Well, I can protect you. I'll find you new clothes if you're a good girl.
Hell, I'll even feed you something that doesn't come from a can if you ask real nice.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. Goddamn, I'd love to see her asking real nice... on her knees… begging me.
Tossing the canned fruit and the spoon into her cell, I rise to my feet again. She flinches at the noise and my sudden movement and a smile creeps onto my face.
“You gonna grab it? Or do I have to come in there and make sure you eat something?”
My patience is growing thin already. I wanna see her do something. All she's doing is sitting there trembling, watching me. She won’t even speak to me.
I want to hear her voice. Just once. Just to prove I’m real to her—that she’s actually here with me and not trying to block me out.
She’s fed now. I should leave. Door’s locked. She’s safe. That should be enough.
But I don’t. Standing there, my hands braced on the bars, I watch her. My little doe, frozen and wide-eyed in the corner.
I’m burning for her. Every inch of me. It’s a sick kind of hunger, crawling under my skin, gnawing at my gut.
Fuck it.
Unlocking the door quietly, I move like I’m slipping into a secret. She doesn’t move when I step inside—just flinches when the cell door squeals shut again.
I don’t bother locking it this time. Don’t need to. She’s not going anywhere. I’ve seen how she looks at the hallway. As if it’s a monster’s throat and she’s in it’s jaws.
Crouching close, my breath fans across her face, hot and hungry. She smells like fear, and I fucking drink it in.
“It’s alright, little doe,” I murmur, reaching out again, bolder now.
Stroking down her cheek, along her jaw, the curve of her throat. My hand lingers there, thumb brushing the pulse thumping just beneath the skin.
Her heart’s racing. Like mine.
“You’re shaking,” I whisper. “You cold? Or is it all for me?”
She still doesn’t answer. But a thought crosses my mind in the silence.
I wonder if I can make her cry again.
Bet I can do it without even hurting her. And it’s a great way to test something else I’ve been dying to see.
“Open your mouth,” I say quietly.
She flinches but doesn’t obey.
So I grip her cheeks and dig my fingers in, until her lips part. Then slide two fingers in deep, dragging them over her tongue, all the way to the back of her throat.
I expect her to choke. Gag. Cough. Cry.
But she doesn’t.
She takes it like a fucking pro.
I blink, caught off guard. And then a dark smile spreads across my face.
Well, well… looks like someone’s already had some training. Maybe she’s not as innocent as she looks. But who the fuck taught her that? Whose fingers—or cock—has she taken before?
“Interesting,” I rumble, voice dipping to an octave it’s never reached before.
She still doesn’t fight me. So I pull my fingers free and—holy shit, I want to sink my teeth into that plump bottom lip. Mark her as mine. Brand her so everyone fucking knows.
Sliding my palm lower, over her collarbone, across her shoulder, I rub down the outside of her arm possessively, taking my time to reach her hip. Every inch I touch is a promise.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
“I’m keeping you alive,” I breathe. “You should be thanking me.”
At the hem of her singlet, my fingers pause, then slip beneath the thin material, finding the bare skin of her waist.
So warm. So delicate.
Her body’s trembling now, but it doesn’t feel like resistance. It feels like submission. She’s letting me. I could slide my hand higher. Feel the soft swell of her breast. Or lower, fuck…
Sliding my hand up just an inch, my fingertips brush the bottom of her ribcage. Her breath hitches, and my cock pulses behind my zipper, hard as steel.
Leaning in, my lips brush the shell of her ear. “You want me to stop?” I whisper, mockingly, half hoping she’ll say something.
She doesn’t answer, even seems to be holding her breath.
“Didn’t think so,” I taunt.
Pulling back just enough, I scan her face. Her lashes are wet. Little nose flaring with quick breaths. Her lips closed tight with whatever she’s choking down. Terror? Shame? Need?
She’s so beautiful.
Her skin heats under my palm. It’s soft in a way nothing’s been for years.
Dragging my touch higher up her ribs, I let my whole hand rest there, splayed out like I’m trying to memorize her shape by touch alone.
She flinches again.
But it’s small. Barely even a twitch.
“You’re soft,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “Soft like something out of a dream. Can’t remember the last time I touched anything like you.”
My hand slips higher, fingertips ghosting along the underside of her breast. I freeze—no bra?
Fighting the urge to fully grab her, I remind myself she’s not ready. Not yet. Just the tease of it, the forbidden feel of her curves against my skin, is enough.
She breathes out a shaky breath. There it is.
“See,” I breathe, leaning closer, mouth at her temple now. “Doesn’t feel so bad does it? I knew you weren’t stupid. Knew you’d understand real quick what side your safety’s on.”
I brush the underside of her breast again. Slower this time, relishing the soft cushion of the mound. She shudders and my eyes light up.
I fucking knew it. Knew I could win her over. Maybe I don’t have her fully, but it won’t take as long as I thought.
Trailing slowly back down, my hand follows the dip of her waist to the soft curve of her hip, my hand now fully cupping her side.
She’s so small under my hand. So vulnerable. And I want her so fucking bad I feel sick with it.
Just holding her like this—skin-to-skin—has me strung out.
Breathing in deep, I suck her scent down into my lungs, like it might ground me.
It doesn’t.
“You got no idea,” I whisper, lips brushing her hairline. “What kind of men are out there. What they’d do if they found you. What they’d take. What they’d break.”
My stroke slips further down, tracing the edge of her waistband. Right above the place I want most.
But I stop myself. “I’m not one of them,” I mutter. “I’m not. I’m keeping you alive. I’m… better than them. I’m gonna give you a choice.”
I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or me, but my hand continues its back-and-forth claim along her waistband. Feeling her soft skin. The warmth. The way she’s breathing fast and shallow.
My other hand finds her knee and she jerks, just a little. Not enough to mean ‘no’, just instinct.
Tracing slowly up her thigh, her legs bare in the tiny shorts she’s wearing, I get lost in thoughts of sinking between those supple thighs.
She must’ve been freezing out there. I’ll keep her warm from now on. Body heat is the best method.
Caressing the inside of her thigh with my thumb, I work my way higher, almost to where I desperately want to touch.