11. Kazia
11
KAZIA
A s I was laying in the warm hands of my psycho kidnapper, my body like putty in his hands, satisfaction coursed through my veins; my mind couldn’t stop racing with questions. What the fuck did I just do? Why the hell did I do that? Did I just let him touch me like that? Did a man, who’s lost his marbles, make me come harder than ever before? Why didn’t I hate it? Hate him? What the fuck is wrong with me?!
The silence in the room was so loud compared to moments ago. Every creak of the bed, every cry, and moan took over the room. All I could hear was the rush of my excitement. The beating of my own heart as I hungered for more of his touch. Squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists, I couldn't believe that I let this get this far.
I was not an innocent woman. I’ve had one-night stands and situationships throughout my life, not even a sliver of the all-consuming experience this man just gave me. I always thought I liked to have control over these kinds of situations, but this… this was nothing about my control. My body shivered at just the thought of what it looked like from above.
His arm tightened around my waist, nuzzling into my neck as he whispered. “You make me crave all the things I shouldn’t have.”
My bleeding heart cried at his words, my heart flopping onto the floor for this tortured soul, but my mind kept telling me that I needed therapy. That what I just let happen was wrong. I was letting these feelings warp into something else I shouldn’t.
I needed to pull away, get some space from him, and think this through. I analyzed the issue and my feelings and devised a plan to fix it. I could see someone to talk it through and get some outside perspective on the whole thing.
Just as I went to move, the nylon cord around my ankle caught my eye, and reality came crashing back down on me. I was a captive. Not in some lover's bed hanging out for the day or trying to find a way to excuse me so politely that I didn't have to see him again. I was a prisoner. And not only that, but a captive of a psycho that wanted to keep me, an asshole who doesn't know what he wants from me, and their dangerous older brother that looked like he was going to kill me. I was not in a position to dissect anything. I just needed to survive.
I placed my hand on the arm, tightening around my waist, knowing this was my safest option. Out of the three, at least this one wasn’t aiming to kill me. Tracing the dark ink on his arm, I couldn't help but warn myself. You’re not allowed to fall for this broken man, Kazia.
His soft, smooth lips caressed my shoulder, the affection I would typically push away from, but in this instance, I moved my neck to the side, making it easier to kiss me and be close.
I stared at the wall as he kissed me and thought about my predicament. Survival was the key to this whole thing. For now, playing at being Cezar’s plaything worked. He was delusional about our relationship, thinking of me as his somehow by fate. Still, he was the only one who prioritized my safety, even fighting his brother over me. He was the safest one to cozy up to, for now.
“Me too,” I heard the words fall from my lips before I thought about them. It was scary when your psyche took over before I got to feel things like guilt and shame.
His other arm wrapped around me, squeezing me like I was a human teddy bear, and to him, maybe I was. Running his face along my neck, inhaling me like he could fuse our souls by sheer willpower.
“I’ve never done this before.” His words stopped my breathing, and that heart I kept telling to shut up knocked my brain out of the way. “I mean, I’ve never wanted to before. The women I see are usually scared of me or are dead beneath me.” This time, my brain drop-kicked my heart back into oblivion, reminding me of who this man was who held me so tight and why I should not be giving my heart over to him. “But not you. You're special.”
Instead of the fear I expected to take over, it felt like something deep within me that had been buried long ago crawled out of its grave. Darkness filled me, calmed me, and made it so laying in the arms of this killer didn't cause me any distress. It made me even more determined.
Turning as far as his iron grip would let me, I faced this man, cupped his face into my hands, and said with more gusto than I truly felt, “And now you have me.” His eyes widened at my easy admission, but I wasn't done yet. Looking down, I bit my lip, flicking my eyes back to him, moving my body on top of his to force him to lie back with me on top of him, but I cried out in pain.
“What?!” He bolted up; his frantic voice at my distress had me smiling inside, and he searched for the culprit of my anguish.
Looking away from him, I fingered the rope at my ankle. “This has been hurting me.”
He glanced down at the rope like it was the bane of his existence. “It shouldn’t,” he growled, more animal than man. “It's half the reason I drug you with the water, so I can untie it while you sleep.”
My whole body froze. Thinking back to the past few days, that felt so short. How I kept getting tired and took a lot of naps. Not knowing what time of day it was. That slight groggy feel or when I woke up to having a dry mouth. He had been fucking up my body's equilibrium, making it easier to keep me pliable, a good little prisoner. The fingers at my side curled into a fist. Anger surged until his hand covered mine, and my head snapped up.
“I didn't want to.” His head fell as his voice grew small. “I knew you wouldn't like it, but it was the only way to keep you from being bothered by my brothers.” His hand squeezed mine like he was trying to get me to understand. Lifting his head, those normally hard-as-stone emerald eyes were more like a sea of green, swirling with emotions I didn't know he had. “They can’t question you if you were drugged asleep, and they knew it. They also… just need more time. I know they will come around.”
Come around to fucking what? What if I didn't want them to come around?
This was not the time to start bashing my only ally, so I took a few breaths, trying to calm down. Cold onyx eyes flashed before me, remembering how Nicu looked at me. That man didn't look like he would come around to anything. He looked like he was staring at a problem he needed to eliminate, one that could be simple enough with just a single bullet.
Shoving down the anger and betrayal, I took a moment before facing him. “I understand,” which was harder to say than I thought, but I quickly moved on. I needed this man to be on my side fully. Knowing he had “voices” talking to him, I wanted to ensure his subconscious didn't talk bad about me when I wasn't around. Rubbing my ankle, I waved my hand, making sure my smile wasn't too wide. “It’s alright. My skin is just sensitive. Even with the reprieve, it still causes the spot to be sore.” I hoped that was a good enough lie.
Pulling his hand away from mine, I thought about how to find the angle to get him to remove this rope. Maybe if I told him I needed to clean up? A bathroom break? Something so I can get out of this room.
He shocked me when he suddenly punched the bed between us. “Fucking shit, Cal. I don't need your opinion on how to please her better next time.” He waited a beat before growling, “No, you don't get to make requests! I don't even think she knows how to do that!”
Cal sounds like a bit of a pervert, but my interest peaked, wanting to know what he wanted me to do and what Cezar thought I didn't know about.
He sighed, his hand gesturing upwards as he rolled his eyes at me like I agreed with him and could hear what was going on in his head. Yep. This beautiful, seductive killer was a crazy person, one I’d hitched my life to, but it was better than trying to count on the other two.
“Don't listen to him. He’s a dick. I’ll tell him to burn in flames the next time he tries.”
Burn in… what the fuck? “What did-” stopping there when his full, serious attention was on me. I had to move on; he was way too serious, and I had an inkling that if I pressed further, I would fall into a rabbit hole of his own Wonderland, and I just didn't have the time. It was tempting, though.
“He’s fine,” I shrugged, wanting him to know nothing bothered me. He is talking to the voices in his head. It was going to be my in. “I think he’s kinda funny,” coy, I covered my mouth, and Cezar did a double take.
I took advantage of the stunned expression and sniffed the air. “What is that-” I lifted my shirt and crinkled my nose. “Oh, it's me. I smell gross.”
He leaned over, sniffing me before sighing, “I think you smell divine.”
Well, that didn't work. “I should take a shower, especially after…” Looking down, I intentionally played with my fingers, hoping I was giving off that embarrassed look guys like. Was I seducing my way into a shower? Yes. Yes, I was. Survival first. Dignity second.
He gave me a lopsided grin before his brows pinched, looking at the nylon rope. I needed to push him a bit more.
“You don't have to remove the rope from my ankle. If you just take it off the wall, you can walk me to the bathroom, tie it up until I'm done, and bring me back.” When he tilted his head, I made it an even better offer. “You can even stay in the bathroom with me.”
He looked at his watch, mumbling, “He said he would be out early, and he won't get out of bed until noon…” Yes. Yes. Just agree to it.
It took him a few minutes, but he shook his head and removed the rope from the wall. He kept his back to me so I couldn't see how he untied the knot, but that wasn't what I was going for this time. I needed a lay of the land, a point of view outside of this room.
Trudging me along, he shuffled me to the door and opened it. Stepping out into a hallway, I saw that both sides had hallways that led in opposite directions. He took me to the left, and I found door after door lining one side of the wall. The other side had various pieces of artwork by famous artists that seemed like a knockoff.
Looking at the last picture on the wall, I stopped. Recognizing the iconic red, white, and black drip painting from Jackson Pollock. That had to be fake, right?
I leaned in to see if it was a printed canvas -because it had to be right?- when I heard a door click, and I turned to see Cezar smiling as he tipped his head for me to go in.
Taking a hesitant step forward, I realized I was in another bedroom. Shifting my foot back, ready to bolt from the room, tattooed hands curled into my shoulder. “Don't worry, My Roma. It's the best one in the house.”
He pulled me in deeper, his finger pressed to his lips as if we were sharing a secret, which only made my pulse beat faster.
Looking at the room, it didn't seem like anything was touched. The bed was hotel-made, and all the surfaces had nothing on them. This could be a guest room. I didn't know how big this house was.
He guided me around the corner, and I almost gasped. This wasn't just a bathroom; it was a luxurious bath area—dark gray marbled granite counters, a mirror the length of the wall. A glass ten-by-ten box with a bench and control panel inside is at the far end. Was there any way I could switch to this room?
Cezar stepped up to the glass box, opened the door, and clicked a few buttons until literal rain fell from the ceiling across half the room. “Come,” he motioned to me with the crook of his finger, “let's get you clean as a knife.”
Rolling my lips in to hold my laugh, I couldn't help myself. “Do you mean whistle?”
His brows pinched as he got out of the glass shower box, scratching his head. “How is a whistle clean? People blow in it, spit gets inside, and it's almost impossible to clean.”
The arguer inside of me reared its head. “And a knife can't get dirty? Get blood and guts caked onto it?”
A sinister curl of his lips made my heart stop, and he closed the distance between us instantly. “No. Not if you're a good knife owner.” He twirled a finger around my wavy hair, his voice going low and slow, “And I'm a very good knife owner. Not a spec is left behind after use.”
Licking my lips, my body and mind warred with each other. One side told me to enjoy myself while I was lying, get him further to my side while sating the craving inside. The other told me something was drastically wrong with me for finding my kidnapper attractive, especially since he'd been drugging me to sleep.
Pushing that magnetic pull between us aside, I tried to sound unaffected. “I see your point.” Gulping after I said that didn't help, especially when my face heated under his full attention.
Mentally slapping myself, I thought back to why I wanted to do this in the first place, and my resolve hardened that fluttering feeling in my stomach. Needing to regain control, I looked at the shower and then back at myself. “I don't have any clothes to change into…”
He frowned, looking around like clothes would just appear. “Do you think…I could borrow some of yours?”
His head jerked back, mouth opening and closing before a slow, tentative smile crossed his face. “Yes. I can do that.” He nodded to the shower, “Just get in the shower, and I’ll be back in a split second with some clothes.”
Tugging my pants down, his eyes trailed down, devouring me standing in front of him in my thong. Pulling open the glass door, I looked over my shoulder. “Thank you, Cezar.”
When he heard his name, he shook his head, kept it down, and mumbled he would be back. Watching him turn the corner, I could still hear him talking hushed tone. “I told you not to look! Yes, I know she's fucking stunning. No, you can't ask her if her ass is real or not! I don't care either way.”
Holding my breath, I waited until I heard the click of the door closing and then bolted around the room like my real ass was on fire.
Opening every door, cabinet, and box I could get my hands on, trying to find something sharp. I was hoping for something small I could hide in my hair so when he took me back, I could cut this damn rope off when they weren't around.
What about drinking that damn water? I bet he was now going to insist on it. Swatting at those negative thoughts, I reminded myself, one step at a time. I can't solve all my problems in a few minutes; I just need to take advantage of the opportunities.
Knowing I was on the clock, I kept going, and when I didn't find anything in the bathroom I could use, I ran to the bedroom.
Looking through the desk first, I found a pen and pad of paper in the drawer. Finally catching a break, I snatched up the pen like a lifeline. It may not break through the rope, but I could stab someone with this. Even if this was a good start, I knew I needed more.
Keeping up my search, I went to the bed, hoping that one of them hid a knife under the pillow or, better yet, a gun. That would propel me even further out the door of this prison.
Adrenaline pumped in my chest, getting my hopes up that these men had hidden something in this room that would help me escape them.
Getting down to my knees, I lifted the bed skirt, looking around until I saw my shining hope. A black handgun was right there, looking like my salvation.
Scrambling to reach for it, my fingertips grazed the grip of the gun. Finally! Finally, something was going my way! I could feel that hope I kept buried coming forward. That was until firm, rough hands circled my ankles, and my legs were yanked back. My frustrated scream filled my ears as I watched my hope for escape drift further and further away.
A hand gripped the back of my neck, yanking me up and pinning me face-first into the bed. My instincts kicked in, and I thrashed around, trying to find a break in this iron grip to move around to escape. A curse sounded above me, followed by a heavy body landing on top of mine, making it even harder to breathe.
Was this it for me? Something inside me cracked, like a foot on a frozen lake; the cracks expanded everywhere. I tried to calm myself, somehow knowing that whatever it was that cracked shouldn't come out.
The grip on my neck tightened as a gruff voice snarled in my ear. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?!”