Chapter Five
Malory
This can’t be real.
How does a man like Tyson live in such a picturesque place.
And I refuse to think of it as mine or whatever he was trying to imply by that comment. That’s just too much for one night.
From the looks of him I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually lived in a one-bedroom apartment with a mattress on the floor and a bench-press as the only seating option.
I guess it doesn’t matter either way.
It’s a prison cell all the same. No matter how much I adore to look of it.
Rooted in the hallway, I have no idea what to do with myself as Tyson strides over to the fireplace.
The muscles on his back rippling as he shrugs off his hoodie and starts setting up a fire. Leaving him in a skintight shirt clinging tightly to his broad back.
From afar, I can’t quite make out the black patterns running up his arms. I didn’t notice all those tattoos before.
As if he wasn’t attractive enough, in that dangerous, can kill you at any moment kind of way.
The flames start dancing amidst the logs, the promise of their warmth compelling me closer until I can’t resist their temptation any longer.
The leather squeaks beneath me as I awkwardly settle down on the couch, letting Tyson drape a fluffy blanket over my shoulders.
“I’ll go get your stuff from the trunk. Stay here, don’t try anything stupid again.” He warns, catching my chin between his fingers as heat rushes through my body at the contact.
“I mean it, Malory. We’re miles aways from civilization, you’ll only hurt yourself or worse out in the wild.” His eyes darken. “The car would be your only option, but I’m keeping the keys with me at all times so unless you can hotwire it, you’re out of luck, little one.”
The defiance in my expression must be obvious because he adds. “Wherever you run, I’ll always find you. But out there, you’d be glad if it’s me who gets to you first, before the other predators start closing in.”
And with that he’s gone, leaving me to mull over his words in silence.
The bedroom on the first floor which now belongs to me is surprisingly spacious, with its only downside being that I’m sharing a balcony with Tyson who’s sleeping right next door. The shared upstairs bathroom not making things much better either.
Now that I think of it, this is the only space where I can have any semblance of privacy.
Keeping my distance will probably be for the best given how jumbled my feelings towards this man are. And I’ve only known him for only a few short hours.
Most of which I haven’t even been conscious for.
He’s the kind of person whose presence dominates you, takes away your breath and your sanity straight with it.
And I’m entirely too susceptible to it.
Emotionally exhausted, I fall onto the soft bed, already wearing the same pair of pajamas as my heavy eyes flutter closed, giving way to the sweet relief of sleep.
I don’t cry.
During this whole ordeal I haven’t shed a tear like any sane person would.
My whole life, I felt desperate for something more, felt trapped as I was forced to be someone my parents deemed acceptable in high society.
There’s a small part of me that’s relieved I’ve gotten away from their constant supervision, the pressure of being the perfect daughter. That’s all I’ve ever known, that’s what always came first.
Never my interests or wishes, but those of others.
On paper, I had everything I could wish for, and yet what I longed for the most was freedom. No matter how small.
And now, I’m trapped once more in a different kind of prison, unsure of which one is worse.
Blinking my eyes open, I pull the comforter over my head, shielding myself from the rays of sunshine filtering in through the white curtains.
Since when is it so bright in here? With the sun already high in the sky, I must have slept well past noon.
What the hell did I do last night?
Last night.
I freeze as it all starts coming back to me.
The black eyes hovering above me, the heat of his strong arms around me, of his rough hands on my skin.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I throw myself back into the pillows. It wasn’t just a dream after all.
On the flip side, it’s finally bright enough outside that I’m able to take a better look around the unfamiliar room.
It’s simple yet gorgeous, with a beautifully carved wooden dresser and bedframe complementing the cream-colored bedding.
Untangling myself from between the sheets, my bare feet sink into the woven carpet as I pad towards the French doors to let it some fresh air.
My breath leaves my lungs as I’m struck by the most beautiful view.
Over the treetops, a deep valley stretches out as far as one can see, covered in an endless sea of greenery blending into the clear blue sky.
I’m left absolutely speechless . How on earth does a place like this even exist and how come that someone like Tyson just happened to stumble upon it.
As much as I hate to admit it, this involuntary stay has gotten a tiny bit more enjoyable and it’s definitely not because of the man who brought me here.
Not in the slightest.
Tyson has left my bags untouched near the doorway when he brought me up here in the early morning hours, so I decide to take a look at what he packed after knocking me out in my bathroom.
To my utter dismay, almost all my clothes and art supplies are here. They’re all jumbled together though, but I guess he was in a hurry since kidnapping someone might not be exactly tolerated by the justice system.
It’s strangely touching that he thought to bring all of it, that he was considerate enough to think about my needs before uprooting my life.
I am definitely someone who needs their familiar, comfort items around them at all times to ease my anxiety. Wear clothes that fit me just right and cosmetics that are gentle enough for my sensitive skin.
By the way, by all of it I mean even my underwear.
The picture of him fisting the lacy scraps of fabric making my legs clench involuntarily.
Assuming I am going to be stuck here for a while, I spend the next hour or so sorting through my clothes, stacking them neatly into the dresser because I might as well settle in for the time being.
When I feel a bit more put together, which given the circumstances isn’t a lot, I throw on a pair of black leggings, knit socks and a baggy sweatshirt.
Although it’s spring, the weather is still not warm enough for short sleeves. Even more so in the woods.
With a quick glance towards the floor length mirror in the corner, I slowly open the door, careful not to make a sound in case Tyson is somewhere nearby.
I’m not ready for that confrontation quite yet, but the need to brush my teeth finally forces me to get over myself and slip into the bathroom across the hallway.
A gasp falling from my lips as I enter, marveling at the brownish-grey tiles, black faucets, and a full-size tub sitting in the midst of it all.
It’s not your overly modern, all white bathroom which to me seems just impersonal and cold.
This has its own character, going perfectly with the rest of the interior. And it’s fully stocked with beauty products, most of which I recognize from my own bathroom but they’re all new.
Is there something this man hasn’t thought of beforehand?
For a guy, he’s awfully perceptive.
I knew something was off when he reached for that first aid kit last night, I was right about him having been there before.
The man is a full-on stalker .
I mean I had a hunch from the unhinged remarks he dropped yesterday but this ultimately confirms it.
And yet it doesn’t really change anything.
I know it’s pathetic to admit, but I’m grateful that he’s treating me decently because any other man most definitely wouldn’t have bothered. Especially one with a personal vendetta.
They’d view me as an extension of my father, making me pay for whatever he did without a second thought about whether I’m innocent or not.
I’m not that sheltered to take his kindness for granted, because for a moment last night, I was almost certain that I would spend the rest of my probably very short life chained up in a moldy basement.
After brushing my teeth and throwing my hair up in a messy bun, I decide to scope out the rest of the cabin.
I don’t want to face Tyson quite yet, but at the same time, I’m becoming more and more restless. I haven’t heard a sign that he’s up here since waking up and he hasn’t come to check on me either.
A similar wooden pattern to my bedframe adorns the staircase railing, making me believe all of this has been hand crafted by the man himself.
I can’t resist brushing my fingertips along the smooth surface as I descend.
The whole downstairs area is drenched in daylight, looking much more inviting than it did last night.
Completed with shiplap walls, exposed beams and floor to ceiling windows opening up to a sort of backyard on the opposite side from the porch. There’s no fence in sight but I assume that the tree line serves to mark the property border.
I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
It’s empty.
Neither Nero nor Tyson anywhere to be found.
Now that I think of it, I haven’t heard anyone down here either. I should be relieved, yet a sense of unease settles over me at being left here all on my own.
Great, now I’m craving the company of my captor. This is all so messed up I can barely keep up with how fast my head spins.
My concerns quickly evaporate as my gaze lands on the ginormous marble kitchen island set with an assortment of fruits and a kettle of steaming hot tea.
And in the midst of it all, a neatly folded note instantly catches my attention.
Morning, little one.
If you crave something else, feel free to look around or just call out for me.
Tyson
Huh , that’s weirdly considerate.
I always eat fruit for breakfast because something heavier would make me feel sick early in the day. Why am I not in the least surprised he knows that.
My kidnapper made me breakfast, now the world finally makes sense.
Pouring myself a cup of the deliciously smelling beverage, I nibble at some apple slices since I’m not that hungry with my stomach tied in a nervous knot.
Giving up halfway through the piece of fruit, I set my heart on looking through the cabinets.
I go through every nook and cranny, discovering all kinds of meticulously organized dishes and utensils, especially taking note of where Tyson keeps his sharp knives.
Apparently, he trusts that I won’t kill him in his sleep to leave them out in the open.
And he’d be right in his assumption. A weak, petite girl like me isn’t a threat to him.
The right hook I threw with those nail scissors was the best I had in me, and that didn’t faze him in the least.
It’s insulting really, he could have at least pretended to be hurting to make me feel a little less like a total failure.
Dropping my head with a heavy sigh, I brace myself against the counter when I hear it.
A heavy thud coming from the outside, again and again .
Following the source of the strange noise, I step out onto the porch just as the sound of a splitting log echoes through the air, making me stop dead in my tracks.
Tyson who’s standing not too far off over by the greenhouse is swinging an enormous axe above his head, chopping wood with long, powerful thrusts.
And he’s shirtless.
His sun kissed skin glistening with a sheen of sweat running down the crevices of his muscles bunching up with every menacing move.
He’s wearing the same black combat boots and cargo pants hanging low on his sculpted waist. His chiseled abs looking like they’re made of granite.
Endless seconds pass and I swallow hard, unable to tear my eyes away from his body straining with each swing.
The man is massive, easily 6’3”.
Cocking his head my way, our eyes lock and the guy smirks like he knows exactly how long I’ve been watching him.
At least I didn’t stare open-mouthed.
“Come here.” He orders, making my feet move without a second thought.
Something about his dominant tone making me want to follow his every command. I need to snap out of this.
As I approach, Nero who’s been peacefully napping in the shade of the nearby trees shoots up, trotting over to greet me.
I feel bad for how I reacted yesterday. He’s a sweetheart despite the scary exterior. Though the same can’t be said about his owner.
I giggle when he jumps up, licking my cheek, his paws landing on my chest as he steadies himself.
Standing on his hind legs, the dog is taller than me. That’s not embarrassing at all.
“Ow, those are my boobs.” I laugh, stepping back with one last scratch behind his ear. I resume making my way towards the lumberjack with Nero at my heels.
It’s astonishing how fast the doggy took to me. But then he most likely doesn’t get many visitors around here.
My smile falters as I spot Tyson’s eyes glued to my chest, making my cheeks heat under his intense scrutiny.
When I self-consciously wrap my arms around my middle, his attention immediately snaps back to my face as he clears his throat.
“Want to give it a try?” He motions towards the axe hanging loosely by his side.
“Ehm... not really...” I shrink back, suddenly intimidated by his sheer size.
Was he this tall yesterday because I’m really struggling to crane my neck down here.
“Come on, I’ll guide you.”
Something unreadable softens in his gaze as he pulls me closer by my waist. Before I have a chance to escape, he pushes the axe into my shaky hands.
Right, give the woman you kidnapped a sharp weapon, that’s the brilliant thing to do.
Tingles erupt all over my skin as he turns me into position, his large palms splayed over my hips.
Tyson’s broad chest covers my back, the heat of his body seeping into me as his huge hands envelop my small ones, hiding them completely. His whole frame tightly wrapped around me like a cage with no way to break free.
Not that it would cross my mind at the moment, too flustered to concentrate on the piece of wood in front of me as liquid fire floods my veins.
I wouldn’t be able to lift that axe by myself even if I wanted to. My body following along wantonly while Tyson does all the hard work, our bodies moving like one.
Each time we make impact, I jump back from the flying splinters and straight into his hard torso, shuddering as his breath, heavy from the exertion, brushes against the side of my face.
“I was promised a tour, remember?” I wiggle in his hold, overly aware of every inch where our bodies are connected.
It’s too intimate, too much.
“I wouldn’t forget, little one.” He grins down at me and this time my jaw slackens.
He’s devastating.
How can someone be so brutally handsome yet deathly at the same time?
I guess a predator has to attract its prey somehow.
Tyson grabs my hand without hesitation and a full body shudder travels up my arm as he circles his thumb over the back of my palm.
He does it like it’s the most natural thing to do for two people who barely know each other.
Not mentioning the detail that one of them isn’t here of their own free will.
After leading me through the greenhouse that’s almost bursting at the seams with greenery, we walk off the property towards the sound of running water. Towards a creek that’s winding its way down from a spring in the nearby mountains.
All this time, Tyson hasn’t let me go of my hand, keeping it neatly trapped in his. Not that I’ve tried letting go either.
He tells me every last detail about this place, making it evident how much time and care he invested into building it. Going as far as showing me where he laid pipes to have running water in the cabin, even installing filters to make it safe for us to drink.
Then the man moves on to solar panels and other off-grid things that I don’t even attempt to understand.
Since he still hasn’t bothered with a shirt, his chiseled chest further distracting me from whatever he’s saying. My focus involuntarily shifts towards the trail of black hair running down the middle of his sculpted abdomen before getting cut off by his waistband.
Whenever I think he’s not watching me, I discreetly study the intricate tattoos that cover most of his upper body, telling myself that it’s only because of my appreciation for art.
His right arm has a full sleeve, with elements of nature scattered in between while a detailed replica of a rifle covers Tyson’s other side, right over his ribs.
As I slow my steps, walking closely behind him whenever the trail grows too narrow, a skull stretching across his whole back and broad shoulders looks back at me. It’s eyes black pits of nothingness.
I’d be terrified if I wasn’t so damn fascinated by every new layer of this man that I get to unravel.
The rest of the afternoon is spent with us walking around the edge of the thick forest, our fingers firmly intwined.
I don’t know what to make of the whirlwind inside of me but I’ve long given up on trying to resist it.
Nero strolls contently before us, sniffing at every fallen leaf while I listen to the occasional flutter of wings above, raising my head towards the wild birds.
It’s so peaceful. Making me almost forget about the circumstances that brought me here not even half a day ago.
I find myself enjoying Tyson’s deep soothing voice as we fall in step beside each other.
The feeling of being his captive a distant memory.