Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Lily
When I wake, I have no idea where I am. It feels like I've been swimming through a vat of molasses.
There's something heavy closing in around me, something not right.
My tongue feels thick in my mouth, like I can't speak.
My head lulls from side to side. I can't hold it up on my own. What did he do to me?
Panic surges through my veins.
“Oh good, you're awake.” Killian stands in front of me, and it's then that I realize I'm upright.
My hands are stretched above my head, and when I look up, I see them tied together, a hook gripping the rope, keeping them held high. The hoodie I had on is gone, heels off, and all I have on is the skimpy lingerie.
My feet are still on the floor, but when he crosses the room to a rope on the side, my heart skips a beat. Well, it skips several beats. Honestly, at this point I think it might have stopped entirely.
“Here I was being patient and kind,” Killian says, reaching for the rope that’s tied to the wall.
One hand is bandaged and a reminder of my earlier action, which has gotten me here.
“You Andretti girls really know how to make a man’s blood boil.
Sometimes lessons need to be taught, and it seems like the lesson you need to learn is a little bit of gratitude. ”
“You think I’ll just let you hold me captive for as long as you want without putting up a fight?”
He chuckles and shakes his head, untying the rope. “Oh, I knew you were going to put up a fight. I just underestimated you.”
“There’s nothing you gain by having me here. Get me down from this hook and let me go home.”
I glance around the room, trying to put the pieces together.
There's a couch in front of me several feet away.
It's a cognac-colored leather with plush pillows on either side. The rest of the room is bare aside from a rolling tray that displays various tools—knives, pliers, a pear-shaped metal device split into expanding segments, thumbscrews, and a torch. It dawns on me that it’s very possible he is about to torture me.
How I'm going to get out of this, I don't know, but I can’t let him sense fear.
Killian sighs and shakes his head, giving the rope a little polite tug, jerking my hands above my head higher. “You are more valuable than you realize.”
“You know you won’t hurt me in any way. You might think you're a monster, but I know you're not. You helped Cameron find Selene.”
“Aw,” he says, giving the rope another tug, his tone mocking. “Look at you trying to appeal to my nicer side. It's a shame I don't have one. And you’re wrong. I’m no monster. Anyone can get over the fear of a monster. I'm your worst nightmare. Something you’ll never be able to escape.”
“Come on, just let me go, let me down from here. I can go on with my life. You can go on with yours. I’ll even go home and tell my siblings you were kind to me and didn't string me from the ceiling like a fucking cow you're about to butcher. I’ll let everyone know you saved me. That will end in your favor. I know how you made men work.”
He laughs, giving the rope another tug, making me hiss with pain, but there’s a hint of pleasure that follows along with it.
Pleasure that has my toes curling, wondering if I might enjoy being bound and strung up in any other situation.
Right now, though, I'm standing on my toes, just trying to hold my balance.
My tongue darts out, licking my lower lip. My throat's gone dry. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you?” he asks, scoffing and shaking his head. “How about we start with a little bit of gratitude.”
“How am I supposed to be grateful that you've done this to me?”
“That I saved you? You should be kissing my feet.”
“I’m not thanking you for saving me only for you to become my captor.”
He ties the rope off, leaving me standing on my tiptoes, my hands still stretched above my head. It is uncomfortable, the muscles in the backs of my calves screaming. I don't know how long I’m going to be able to hold it for. I don't know how long he is going to force me to hold it either.
Killian paces across the room, rolling up his sleeves, showing off forearms covered with swirling lines in black.
Celtic tattoos, I think, but they don't make any sense to me.
There's a fan blowing a soft breeze through the room, the AC turned up so high my nipples are stiff and brushing against the sheer fabric.
I struggle on the rope, trying to get down, but it does nothing.
All I'm doing is swinging back and forth.
My toes are beginning to ache from being up on them too long.
I grit my teeth, trying to push through the pain and hoping I get to the point where my entire body goes numb soon.
My calves are screaming in protest as I start swinging again.
Maybe I can flip my legs up, get enough leverage holding on to the rope between my thighs, and I might be able to unhook my hands.
Before I have a chance to test my theory, Killian stands in front of me. I could easily kick him, but it’d be useless if I’m still tied up. I just need to wait for the right time.
“If you beg me, I’ll let you down.” He just watches, thoroughly amused, with a devilish smile that under other circumstances would have me eating out of the palm of his hand. If looks could kill, that would be Killian.
I hate the way it has heat building in my core. Now isn’t the time for that, though. And he certainly isn't the man.
“I’d rather take my chances back with Nico Vidalia.”
His eyes look deep into mine as though trying to read me. “You’ve got yourself quite the reputation in Providence. Rumor has it you’re having trouble finding a fool to marry you.”
“Interested?” I shoot back, attempting to seem unfazed by his insult. “Since all the sane men didn’t work out, maybe I’ll need to look into the psychopaths.”
“A spoiled princess like yourself wouldn’t last ten seconds with me.”
“I’ve spent more than that here,” I point out. “I think you’re all talk.”
Slowly walking around me, circling as though he is calculating when to go in for the kill. I want to eat my words when I see the torture weapons out on display. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, a cold feeling rushing over me.
“There's a reason they keep women out of power in the families.
They think you're weak. They think all you're good for is giving birth to the children.
Sure, there are some women who have power, but typically it's only because of who their husband is in the family. Take Stasia, for example, married to the underboss. And Selene was the wife of the boss until he was killed, yet she still somehow manages to land a high-ranking man.” Killian stops in front of me, tilting his head to the side.
“You should have men lined up to marry you. Unless there’s something wrong.” His eyes scan my body as he circles around me again. “You have all the right assets.” I feel a sharp pain against my ass cheeks, causing me to let out a shout. “I guess you have a shitty personality.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out.
“What I don’t understand is how you didn’t snag Alesso for yourself. Wouldn’t that be a triple threat? Three fatherless sisters marrying the pinnacle of power.” He stops right in front of me. “Or did he not want you either?”
“Look at me. Everyone wants this.”
I’ve had enough of his provoking, and I use this time to strike.
With any power I have left in me, I use my legs to quickly climb up his body, wrapping my legs around Killian's head, locking my ankles behind his neck.
His face presses against my inner thighs, the sudden warmth of his breath making me shudder.
Caught off guard, I expect him to panic as he attempts to free himself, but instead he chuckles deeply.
It’s muffled between my flesh, but there’s no mistake he’s not concerned.
Thinking quickly, I look up, trying to use him as an anchor to reach the ropes binding my wrists.
My thigh muscles strain, the position awkward but potentially effective.
I can almost feel the knot with my fingertips. A sharp burn pierces me.
“Ouch!” I shout. “Are you fucking biting me, you lunatic!?”
I keep my legs wrapped around his head as Killian's teeth sink into my thigh. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make me gasp. The sharp pressure sends electricity through me, my body responding before my mind can protest.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmurs against my skin, his voice vibrating through me.
He bites again, higher this time, leaving a trail of stinging impressions up my thigh. Each nip makes my breath catch, my body betraying my practical intentions. His mouth moves with purpose, teeth and lips working relentlessly despite my attempts to get him off me now.
Then his tongue joins the assault. Wet, hot, and impossibly clever as it traces patterns on my skin. He licks where he just bit, the soothing heat contrasting with the sharp pain. My legs tighten around his head instinctively, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.
"No..." My voice comes out breathy, thin.
He chuckles, the sound muffled by my flesh. His hands, previously dangling uselessly, suddenly come to life. One grips my ass cheek, fingers digging into the soft flesh exposed. The sensation of his touch, possessive and firm, is sending a wave of heat through my veins.
I'm trapped. My legs lock around his head, his hand grips my ass, and his tongue works magic on my inner thigh. Any attempt to escape would only press him tighter against me. My plan is completely falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m losing control.
His tongue finds the sensitive spot where my thigh meets my groin, circling it with maddening precision. My hips rock involuntarily, seeking more contact. The rope above us creaks as I move, the sound barely registering through the haze building in my mind.
His other hand joins the first to grip my other ass cheek. He holds me steady, controlling my movements as my body betrays me.
I shake my head. "No," I manage to say, the word barely audible.
His response is to bite me again, harder this time, right at the junction of thigh and hip. I cry out, the sound echoing in the empty room. My body arches, seeking more of his touch, more of his mouth, more of everything he's offering.
The ropes dig into my wrists, but the pain has transformed into something else—a sharp counterpoint to the pleasure building between my legs.
Every nerve ending fires, my skin hypersensitive to his touch.
His tongue traces patterns that make my toes curl, his teeth leaving marks I know I'll feel for days.
"You taste like desperation," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "And something sweeter."
I want to respond, to say something clever or defiant, but words fail me.
All I can do is feel—the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his hands, the strain in my muscles, the building tension coiling in my core.
My hips move with a rhythm I didn't choose, chasing something I can't name but desperately need.
His tongue slides higher, teasing along the edge of the thin lingerie. I grind against him, shameless now, all thoughts of escape forgotten. All that matters is his mouth, his hands, the pleasure mounting with each passing second.
Just as I'm about to tip over the edge, just as my body tightens in anticipation of release, Killian pulls away.
His mouth leaves my skin. His hands release my ass. His head slips from between my thighs. I'm left dangling, empty, aching with unfulfilled need. My legs fall limp, body swaying gently from the hook.
"You’re crazy," I gasp, trying to make sense of the sudden abandonment.
The ropes bite into my wrists again, the pain sharp now without pleasure to mask it. My thighs throb where his mouth was, the skin sensitized and craving more. I'm left hanging, literally and figuratively, breathless with the taste of what could have been still lingering in the air.
He just smiles, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that promises everything and delivers nothing.
Slowly walking backward, he stops when he reaches the cart, then pulls it forward in my direction.
Smirking as he reaches me, dangling lifeless, he kneels to the ground, grabbing shackles that are on the floor and clasping them around my ankles.
He has control and has made it very clear.
There’s no way for me to get down. I’m stuck here until he decides otherwise.
Standing on my tiptoes, ankles chained to the floor, hands high above my head, he turns his back to leave.
I'm strung there like a toy for his pleasure. I need to get back control.
“Please,” I beg. “I’ll behave. I’ll do what you want.”
This makes him turn around, and now I need to focus on survival until I can find a better way to get out of here.