Chapter 5 #2
“The guy you remember is as gone as you are to the world.” He yanked me up by my wet hair. “You can either learn that the easy way or the hard way.”
“And this is the hard way?” I asked, flinching as his fingers tightened. “Kidnapping me? Stripping me? Locking me up?”
“You sent me to hell, Alex. I’m just returning the favor.”
He let go, and I sank into my seat again as his words echoed through my heart. “Will you at least give my clothes back? Please,” I begged, sliding my hands under my thighs, as the urge to cover myself nearly overpowered me.
His gaze settled on my breasts, and I felt my nipples harden.
“I like the view. Eight years is a long time to go without seeing a pair of tits. You’ll get clothes when I’m good and ready.
” He set a plate of food in front of me, and the smell of scrambled eggs, something that had always reminded me of wet dog when I cooked them, turned my stomach.
“I’m not hungry.”
He sat across from me, his own plate in front of him. “It’s not optional. Eat your damn food.”
Rage erupted from me, refusing to be contained, and I had to act, had to do something, if only to alleviate the madness festering inside me. I knocked the plate off the table, and though I was disappointed it failed to shatter, the way the food spattered the floor gave some satisfaction.
He rubbed the stubble that shadowed his jaw, as if contemplating, and rose from his chair.
He rounded the table, furious green eyes narrowed, and I grabbed my seat to keep from bolting.
Oh God. I’d never been more sorry about losing my temper.
He settled next to me, and I couldn’t comprehend what happened next.
One second I was sitting upright, and the next he’d pulled me over his lap.
His palm came down fast and hard, but I didn’t make a sound, didn’t even fight him.
I was too shocked, too aware of him underneath me as his thighs burned into my abdomen.
His hand stalled on my ass, lightly massaging, then he continued spanking me, each smack landing with more intensity than the last. He set me upright again, and only then did I register the deep sting in my bottom.
He reclaimed the seat across from me, and I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
All I could do was stare. There were no words, no fits or hysterics, just pure stunned silence on my part.
“If you think a tantrum will get you out of eating, you’re sorely mistaken.” He pointed at my breakfast on the floor. “Get down there and eat it.”
“I’m not a fucking dog.”
He jumped from his chair so fast, I didn’t have a chance to bolt.
His fingers pressed into my jaw. “Last chance before I use that on you.” He forced my gaze to the thick paddle hanging on the wall by the door.
“And trust me, that sucker is unbearable, so unless you want to experience it firsthand, get your ass on the floor and eat your breakfast. I won’t tolerate you starving yourself. Not under my roof.”
Warmth flooded my face as I slid from the chair to my knees, and as I used my hands to shovel in mouthfuls of eggs, the same old shame surfaced.
It was never far, always hidden beneath layers of forged normalcy.
“I haven’t had a problem with that in six months,” I said, despising the weak quality of my voice.
The eggs didn’t want to go down, and I almost gagged. The potatoes weren’t much better.
“Good, and we’re going to keep it that way.”
“How did you know?” I asked. He’d just been released from prison, so how had he found out about my problem with anorexia?
“I know everything about you.”
Our eyes connected and held, and I searched for the truth, because surely he didn’t mean everything. Seconds ticked past, each one whittling away my thin grasp on sanity. I held my breath, horrified by the possibility that he knew.
He broke our stare, his expression unchanged, and I exhaled in relief.
Silence ensued, interrupted by the scrape of his fork against china, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind of disquiet that made every second feel like an eternity.
My mind was numb. I hadn’t processed, and I wasn’t ready to do so.
“Why did you starve yourself?” he asked, jerking me to awareness.
I had no idea how to explain. I couldn’t explain, not without going into things I didn’t want to reveal, like how after the first inpatient treatment, I’d relapsed on purpose because being locked inside that facility had been the most peaceful three months I’d experienced in a long time.
My treatment had kept Zach away. “I don’t know. ”
“Bullshit.”
I scooped up a handful of potatoes. “It started after…” I began, raising my eyes to his, “after you went away.”
“Your eating disorder is my fault then?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I was dealing with a lot of stuff and—”
“Save it, Alex. I’m sure you were really struggling in your daddy’s mansion, going out on the weekends with boyfriends and friends, loading up your closets with expensive clothes. Spare me the sob story, ‘cause I’m not buying.”
“Why’d you ask then?” With a tilt of my head, I raised my brows.
“Don’t get smart with me. I thought you might actually tell the truth for once in your life.” He pushed back from the table. “Clear the table and load the dishwasher.” He swept a hand toward the messy floor. “And clean up this mess.”
Indignation rose, but I kept my mouth shut.
Rising to my feet, I grabbed my plate from the floor and his from the table before making my way to the sink.
I took my time scrubbing the few dishes from breakfast, and after I’d loaded them into the dishwasher, I slammed the door, turned around, and found him watching me.
He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and biceps bulging.
“I need a broom.”
He fetched one from a closet near the door leading to God knew where. Where the hell had he taken me? I saw nothing but trees, though the distinct hum of a highway gave me hope that help existed beyond all the thick foliage.
He shoved the broom into my hands, and our fingers brushed together—the kind of touch that lingered enough to make me shiver. I swallowed hard and swept up the mess, sensing him behind me the whole time. His warm palms settled on my hips, fingers curling around to my front. I swayed into his body.
“Can…can I ask you something, Rafe?”
“You can ask.”
“Have you…” My voice faltered, and I had to swallow hard in order to force the question out. “Have you had sex since getting out?”
He trembled. “No,” he groaned as he dipped a finger inside me, and I quaked at the thought that he hadn’t been with anyone in such a long time.
“Now it’s my turn to ask you something,” he said. “Just how badly do you want me to fuck you?”
A whimper escaped. It was no secret my body wanted him, had always wanted him. But me, the woman he’d kidnapped, she didn’t want him. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
“You wanted it back then too.” With a growl, he pushed me away. “I don’t want you like this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I turned to face him, the broom handle keeping me upright.
“It means I don’t want you willing.” He knocked the broom to the floor and gripped my wrists.
In the rays of the sun peeking through the skylight, my scars stood out as lines of abstract art on my forearms, sketched in blood by my inability to cope with stress.
He pulled out my arms and put the marred skin on display.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing,” I said, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Who did this?”
“No one.”
He jerked me close, and his immovable hands framed my cheeks. “Who. Did. This?”
“I did.”
For the first time since he’d re-entered my life, he appeared speechless. His gaze scoured my face, as if looking for answers.
“Why?”
I shook my head, unable to speak, scared he’d see too much. But I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away. I wanted to bathe in the gentleness breaking through in that instant when I glimpsed the old Rafe.
He blinked and the moment shattered, his emotions going into lockdown. Without another word, he dragged me toward the cellar.
“Don’t put me back down there,” I pleaded.
He flung open the door and herded me down the stairs.
I was shaking too much to fight. Back in the cage, he fastened shackles around my wrists and jerked my arms high, attaching the chain to a hook in the ceiling.
“This should keep you out of trouble for a while.” He held my chin, fingers bruising my jaw.
“Every time you rebel, this is where you’ll end up.
Learn to obey me, and we’ll get along fine. ”
And that’s how he left me. Alone, cold, and in the dark, with my arms suspended above my head.