Chapter Eight
Greyson
My little Flower is exhausted by the time I take her back into her room, eyes drooping and motions slow.
She stumbles while we walk, so I scoop her up and hold her against my chest. She’s tiny, and her weight feels indescribably right in my arms. Like I’m meant to be right here with her. Like this is fate.
I try to sit Scarlett down at the metal table so I can change the sullied bedsheets, but she panics, so I set her at the foot of the bed, waiting a few moments to make sure she doesn’t tip over.
A single hour of a medium-intensity punishment has taken all the fight out of her, at least for tonight.
I really don’t know why I didn’t think to keep her more wrung out and sexually satisfied back when I had her—probably because we’d only been sleeping together for a week when she made her escape.
I wasn’t properly prepared, and I was still experiencing pretty severe mood swings.
While those haven’t disappeared, I have learned to manage them better, and I’ll take care not to subject Scarlett to the worst of them.
She watches with dazed eyes and an adorably sleepy expression as I strip and remake the bed.
When I’m done, she climbs right beneath the covers, her eyes immediately closing.
I kneel by the bed and stroke a few tendrils of hair out of her eyes.
I want to stay with her, to hold her, but experience tells me that it’ll disturb her sleep.
I don’t want to run that risk on her first day here.
She tries to shift away from my touch; I simply move with her, leaning a bit farther over the bed. Eventually, she gives a frustrated sigh and turns her back to me.
“Scarlett,” I say simply. “Don’t make me force you.”
With a grumble of irritation, she turns to face me, eyes open and laced with annoyance. I smile at her. “I’ve missed you, Flower,” I find myself reiterating. I really have.
“You would’ve done both of us a favor if you forgot me.”
“I could never forget you. Not even if I tried. And you could never forget me, as you’ve admitted.” I tuck a few strands of damp hair behind her ear.
“You know it’s different,” she mutters. “You remember me as the girl you loved to torment, and I remember you as the man who tortured me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Scarlett. I don’t remember you as the girl I loved to torment; I just remember you as the girl that I love.”
She doesn’t respond to that, but her brows furrow and she stares at me with a mixture of curiosity and fear in her gaze.
My words frighten her, but they also interest her to some degree—she watches me like I’m a riddle to solve until her eyelids start to flutter, and she slips right into a deep sleep.
I stay next to her for a while, gazing at her and reveling in the knowledge that she’s mine.
That she’ll never get another opportunity to run from me—I’ll keep her chained to my side if I have to, but I don’t think it’ll come to that.
She fell asleep with me touching her, which is a promising start.
I’ll gain her body’s trust, bit by bit, until she no longer flinches when I move in her vicinity.
At the same time, I’ll work on her mind.
And maybe, just maybe, that’ll culminate in me managing to steal her heart.
I sleep like the dead that night, which is no doubt helped by the monitor I have on my nightstand, showing a live stream from the cameras hidden in Scarlett’s temporary room.
I want her out of there and in my bed as soon as possible, but that’ll take some time and prep work.
I want her to want to leave the punishment room, to join me in my bed—but even if she doesn’t get to that point as quickly as I’d like, I’ll have her here anyways.
I’m up early in the morning. I spend about an hour working out, after which I get an alert from the motion-sensors in Scarlett’s room, informing me that she’s woken up.
I grab our breakfast from the kitchen and head back to my apartment.
After a quick pit-stop by my bedroom to pick up a very expensive gift I had made for Scarlett, I go to her designated holding room.
When I unlock the door, I see her doing sit-ups by her bed, sweat running down her naked body. We both freeze at the same time… and then, she’s scrambling back into the bed, hiding her nudity under the bedsheets.
“Good morning,” I greet her. “Don’t interrupt your routine on my behalf. You have nothing I haven’t seen, licked, and bitten before.” I tilt my head to the side. “Do you work out every morning?” The file Toby compiled on her didn’t mention any gym memberships.
She gives a half-shrug in response.
“Training yourself to try to run away again?” I ask.
My tone is teasing, but there’s something hard beneath it.
I’m under no illusions; I know Scarlett despises me right now.
She tried to shoot me and then turn the gun on herself just a day ago.
If she got the chance to leave, she would.
I’d bet she’s going to scramble to find a chance to slip away again.
Scarlett wisely doesn’t respond to my question.
I take her silence as agreement, but decide not to press the issue just yet. Instead, I stroll inside and set the tray of breakfast food on the metal table in the center of the room. Scarlett’s eyes immediately shutter.
“Come here,” I say, crooking a finger. “Breakfast time.”
Her lips thin and she shakes her head. “Not there.”
“It wasn’t a question. Easy way or hard way, Scarlett. I’m sure you noticed that this chair is well-equipped to hold you in place. If your disobedience forces me to restrain you, I’ll have to punish you. Do you really want another punishment so soon?”
Her lips seal. She tugs at the thin bedsheet as she stands, trying to use it to cover herself.
“Leave the sheet,” I instruct her. “You’ll get clothes after breakfast if you’re a good girl, but when I don’t give you any, that’s because I want you naked. Don’t try to cover yourself.”
She gives me a furious look but keeps her mouth shut. She takes a step toward the table, and then another… and then her eyes fog up, and she freezes in place.
I recognize what’s happening; she’s having the sort of memories she needs to overcome. I abandon my spot near the table and approach her. She snaps out of her daze with an audible gasp and attempts to scramble back, but I catch her hand and pull her into me.
“This is not the cell,” I tell her firmly. “This is a very different sort of room. You are not going to be tortured with pain here, or anywhere, ever again. Not while you have me. Do you understand?”
Her throat works as she swallows, casting another glance at the table and promptly squeezing her eyes shut. “Not there,” she says, shaking her head. “Please, not there.”
There’s a duality to this woman that fascinates me. She’s undoubtedly one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, but she also has glaring pressure points and vulnerabilities sitting behind sky-high, reinforced defensive walls.
“Flower, look at me.” When she doesn’t, I grab her shoulders and give her a slight shake. “Look at me.”
Her eyes snap open, fixing on mine.
“I punished you last night. Did I hurt you?”
It takes her several moments to shake her head.
“After I took you out of that cell, did I hurt you again?”
Fire sparks in her eyes. “You took my—”
“You hadn’t told me you were a virgin. If you had, I would’ve approached that situation very differently. I regret how that night went down. Aside from that, and the night I had a bad reaction to you waking me up, have I hurt you?”
“Not while you were sound of mind.” She swallows again. “But you haven’t exactly shown me you’re a model citizen when it comes to sanity.”
“I will not hurt you,” I repeat yet again. It’s a mantra I suspect I’ll need to get used to uttering with Scarlett, because of the unfortunate way we met. “I’m many terrible things, Scarlett, but I’m a man of my word.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide, and she appears so very innocent. So exposed.
“You don’t have to. I’ll prove it to you through actions.” I cup her chin. “Take a seat at the table, Scarlett. Don’t make a fuss. Breakfast will be over quickly enough.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispers.
I don’t think she’s just referring to the table. She means all of this, everything I’ve done to her since initially capturing her. Everything I’ll go on to do to her. My obsession with her, my love for her.
“Because you were always meant to be mine,” I say simply.
“You’re insane.”
I tap her nose. “Maybe so, but it doesn’t change the truth.” I slowly step back from her and take her hand. She allows me to lead her to the table with great reluctance, posture slumped. She resists a little when I gently push her into the seat, but a hard look from me makes her ass hit the metal.
Her eyes go foggy again, clouded with what’s probably another memory. I cup her chin in my hand and redirect her attention to me, picking up a forkful of scrambled eggs and holding it up to her lips. With a defeated sigh, she parts them and lets me feed her, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Her discomfort doesn’t ebb through the duration of breakfast. I know it’ll take more than a single meal at this table to help her overcome her fear of it, but it’s a start. Once she’s eaten all she can—which is nowhere near enough—I feed myself as an afterthought and push away the tray of food.
She folds her arms over her chest and crosses her legs, training her gaze on her lap.
“Uh-uh,” I say with a shake of my head. “No, Scarlett. You look at me. You stay with me.” I let her shield her body for now, allowing her that small bit of agency. But I want her eyes on me.
“I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve here,” she says, fixing me with an accusing stare. “I’m never going to care about you. I’ll never accept you, or any part of this situation. I’ll never—”