Chapter 3 Cade #2
Behind the door, I can hear him pacing around, muttering to himself. The walls might be falling apart, but they’re still too thick to hear what he’s saying. At least I know he’s safe and not wandering off.
It might be a little fucked up to be worried about the safety of the guy who stuffed me in a trunk and took me to a cabin in the woods, but I’m a little fucked up.
Makes sense to me that that’s where my mind would go.
Of the two of us, I know who the dangerous one is here.
And it’s not the little butterfly who’s flapping back and forth so much that he’s going to wear a path in the floor.
Without Ansel to entertain me, I rock my chair back on two legs repeatedly. To an outsider, it probably looks like I’m just bored and fidgeting. Which, valid. I’m definitely both of those things.
But that’s not why I’m doing it.
By using my weight on the back legs, I’m gradually weakening the pressure point where they join the seat of the chair. It’ll hold for now, but if needed, I’ll be able to slam myself back on them and detach them completely.
Not that I think I’ll need weapons against Ansel. If it came to it, I could incapacitate him with my bare hands. I don’t want it to come to that, of course, but I could.
No, that’s not why I’m doing this. I’m giving myself options in case someone else decides to gatecrash our little date. I have to assume that Ansel isn’t working alone, which means it’s likely only a matter of time before someone else comes to join us.
I hope it’s not soon. I haven’t had nearly enough time with my butterfly yet.
For when they do though, it’s best that I have options. My brothers would be furious if they thought I wasn’t making preparations. I’m already going to be on Wylder’s shit list when he learns I trashed my own tracker.
And Ansel still has my dagger, but I don’t know what he’s done with it. No matter. I can do things with these two chair legs that most people wouldn’t even consider.
When I’m satisfied the chair is sufficiently rickety, I stop. There’s no point ruining it completely. I have to sit somewhere.
My gaze lands on the bed. Hmm. Maybe I can persuade Ansel to tie me up there instead. We both have to sleep.
Perhaps we can do so together.
All curled up with my kidnapper. Sounds kind of romantic, right? Like the plot of one of those dark romance novels my youngest brother, Harley, reads. I’m not supposed to know about that, but I do.
It’s one of my talents—discovering things about people that they wish I didn’t know.
I can’t wait to find out what secrets Ansel is hiding.
Other than being a shit kidnapper.
That’s not a secret, though. And I shouldn’t judge him. He’s trying his best.
My mood picks up as the door swings open. Ansel doesn’t give me anything more than a cursory glance before dropping down on the bed. He glares at his phone like it’s done something to personally offend him.
“What’s wrong, little butterfly?”
He gives me a swift, withering glare. “Stop fucking calling me that.”
I click my tongue. Oh yes, someone’s upset him. I don’t like that. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? You know what they say, a problem shared is a problem halved.”
Ansel sits up suddenly, his legs over the side of the bed as he glares at me. “Why do you care, Brad?”
The false name trips me up. I kind of wish I hadn’t given it to him now. I want to see those pretty lips saying my name, no one else’s.
“Because I’m a decent person.” Lies. I’m anything but decent. Mostly unethical, amoral, and, in the bedroom, absolutely filthy. “I’m allowed to care about others.”
“I’m not ‘others,’ I’m your kidnapper. It’s too early for Stockholm syndrome. You can’t give a shit about me. It’s not right.”
“It is if I had the hots for you before following you out of that bar.”
“You were just hoping to get laid.”
“True,” I muse. “And I probably would’ve walked away and never thought of you again. But you know what happened?”
He wants to ask me. I can see it written over every inch of his beautiful face.
I lean forward, trying to get a little closer to him. The knot pulls at my wrists, but I don’t mind. “You somehow suspended me upside down from a tree and knocked me out with my own dagger.”
“See, this is what I mean.” Ansel shoves his hair back again. “That’s supposed to make you want to run in the other direction. There’s something fucking wrong with you, man.”
That has me grinning. He’s right. There’s definitely something wrong with me.
A psychiatrist would have a field day with me if I ever decided to attend one of the appointments Wylder has set up for me.
Why bother, though? I’m perfectly happy the way I am.
There’s a lot wrong with me, but nothing that needs fixing.
“Why would I run when that’s the moment you became interesting? ”
Ansel’s mouth pops open in a little O. My cock twitches. I’ve been semi-hard since he walked back into the room, but that facial expression? It has all my blood rushing south. I’m picturing him on his knees, his lips exactly like that as I shove my cock between them.
My tongue flicks over my lips as I stir in my seat. The movement snaps Ansel out of his daze. He throws himself back on the bed, rolling over so his back is to me. “It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.”
I frown. “What, on the chair?”
“Yep.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. That bed is big enough for two.”
Ansel gives an exasperated sigh and rolls to face me. “This is a kidnapping. It’s not supposed to be fair. You’re the victim.”
Aw, it’s cute that he thinks that. “Fine. But if we’re still here tomorrow night, I’m in that bed with you.”
His gaze turns weary. “If we’re still here by then, I’ll have much bigger problems than where you’re sleeping.”
“Why? Are you waiting for someone? Does that mean you’re not the one in charge?”
Ansel might think that silence is best, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s telling me all I need to know by not answering. He is waiting for someone.
And he’s not the one in charge. My butterfly is acting on someone else’s orders.
Ansel twists away. “Rest, Brad. I promise not to kill you in your sleep.”
“Good. If that’s going to happen, I want to be wide awake. Don’t let me miss out on the fun.”
It’s small—a tiny sound. But it rings through me like the loudest bell.
Ansel laughs.
This chair is high on the list of the most uncomfortable places I’ve tried to sleep, but I don’t care. I drift off replaying that sound in my ears.
I can’t wait to hear it again.