13. Luna
LUNA
I’m roused from a deep sleep as something hard and cold wedges beneath my shoulders, but I can’t open my eyes. Not yet. They’re too heavy. My entire body feels too heavy, even as I lift off the ground, my head tipping over what I now make out is an arm.
A masculine scent envelops me: clean sweat warmed into smoked wood, the sharp tang of cold air trapped in fabric, earthier than it should be. I groan on an exhale and let my head loll against a chest.
“I’ve got you, beautiful.”
I stiffen. My eyes flutter open to peek at the outline of Sawyer’s shadowed jaw, light from a lantern licking up his cheek. I don’t know who I expected, but I’d forgotten him. Forgotten earlier. Forgotten yesterday. Forgotten everything.
The peace doesn’t drain so much as it’s swallowed, gone in an instant—steam in a snowstorm. It never stood a chance.
“Why are you so cold?” I ask, my voice as exhausted as I feel. His arms squeeze to hold me steady as I try to stretch myself awake, and I’m reminded of how small I am. How weak he’s made my body.
Sawyer doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look down as he carries me into a bathroom where a claw-foot tub waits, half-full of water. Hot water—a light layer of steam curling from the surface before it’s eaten by the chilly room.
I latch to his shirt as he lowers me into the tub, but as soon as warmth hugs my frozen bottom, I release. A sigh spills from my chest—one I don’t try to hide—and I sink until a puddle gathers in my belly button.
My eyes close, then snap open at a gentle slosh of water.
Dirt ripples off Sawyer’s submerged arms, tiny particles of filth that would seize my lungs if I let it.
I hold my breath as he finds the hem of my sweater and pulls it over my head, the soaked material wetting my hair and face as I sit up.
He tosses it on the floor while I fold my arms over my breasts.
Next is his shirt, and even in the dim light of a single lantern he’s set at his feet, I can tell that it’s filthy. Dirt cakes into his brow and forms a thin layer on his face, arms, and legs. Pieces of crunchy leaves stick out in his disheveled, wavy hair.
“What were you doing?” I ask, only to lose interest as soon as the question’s spoken. My eyes glue to an ugly, pink burn scar on his chest—a matching set with his hands. Even as he pulls down his pants, I can’t look away.
“Nothing.”
As he hooks his thumbs inside his boxers, I close my eyes and listen to the soft rustle of fabric as it’s tossed to the side. Water splashes when he steps one foot into the tub, his toe edging against my thigh.
With little resistance, I scoot forward at his prompting and hold still while he eases in behind me. The water level rises to the curve of my breasts as his legs bracket mine. I don’t know if I should fight this, but I’m too tired to try. What he did to me earlier… I can’t take that again.
The water clouds as he splashes his face and arms, little ripples tapping my back. I feel every movement, and it’s almost more intimate than if I’d turned around to watch. But I don’t. Not even when his glacial hand settles on the upper swell of my breast.
I tense; gasp; slap the sides of the tub; curse the cold that bites, then blooms as he draws me to his chest.
I look down at his hand and watch a murky drop slip from his pinky. It catches on the raised edge of my areola—hesitant, punishing—then skims the tight peak of my nipple, a whisper of movement so precise it pulses between my legs.
My eyes close. Steady breaths in… And out. Trying to slow the heart that pounds beneath Sawyer’s palm. The single shell he wears taps the nape of my neck as he plants a kiss to my hair.
None of it is meant to be erotic. I can tell by the tension that compresses the air between us; Sawyer isn’t even here. He’s on autopilot, his mind busy while his body torments me on impulse.
A minute passes until I decide—with certainty—that it has nothing to do with me.
“Did something happen?”
He doesn’t answer, which makes me think that something did. When his hands move water over my arms, my nails sink into my thighs.
“I have to tell you something,” he finally says. He gathers my hair over one shoulder and glides his fingertip along my flesh. I shiver, both at his mysterious words and at his touch. Every movement is smooth, absent-minded, pornographic, confusing.
He goes on while scooping water onto my upper back and lightly scrubbing.
“I’m not gonna be here much longer… And I don’t think you’re going to acclimate to the culture here. I think you should start working on an exit strategy.”
When his fingers run up the back of my neck, I lower my head and let him massage my scalp. Little bits of pleasure roll through me despite his cryptic yet obvious words.
“Is that what you were doing tonight? Looking for a way out?”
He dips his hand in the bath to bring more water to my hair. “Yes, and I found one, but it only works for me. You’re going to have to find your own way.”
He found a way out.
He found a way out?!
“How?” My spine straightens as I grip both sides of the tub to sit up. “How are you getting out? And… I mean, are they keeping you here? Why can’t we just leave together tonight? Now.”
My palms splay on the porcelain as I take in a steadying breath. “Are you messing with my head again?”
“No,” he replies with a sigh. “I’m not… You can just forget I said anything if you want.”
“If you want to leave, why are we not leaving? Why…” Water splashes onto the floor as I fully turn to face him. “Why are you still here?”
He brings his knees up to rest his hands on them and takes his time answering. My eyes naturally draw to the scar on his chest, and I’m glad in a way because it keeps me from looking lower. He doesn’t even appear fazed to be naked with me. He looks… I don’t know how he looks. Worn down. Dazed.
“I came here for something, and I’m not going to leave until I get it. I can’t take you with me because I’m using someone’s help, and they aren’t going to let me bring along another woman.”
“Whose help?” I squint at him.
He actually found a way out. In one night, he found a way out.
How could it be that easy?
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.” I huff. “Sawyer, please. I—”
“She’s a woman. You need the help of a man… It’s not as hard as it seems. You just need to get close to someone sympathetic to your situation, then—”
“Get close to them,” I repeat. “You mean sleep with them.”
Sawyer hesitates but then nods.
“So that’s what you went to do after you tortured me then left me passed out on the floor. You went to have sex with someone.”
He runs his hand through his hair and collects a piece of leaf in the process.
Looking down at his hand, he shakes it away into the filthy water.
“I didn’t leave you to go get laid. I just needed to…
” He looks up as he thinks, his mouth open.
He gives up and shakes his head. “What does it even matter?”
“You just needed to what?” I wrap my arms around my knees while searching his face for the answer. Something happened. I can tell something happened.
He scrubs at day-old stubble before lowering his hand to his knee.
“I was out scouting the woods, and I ran into a problem I needed to fix. Trust me, you do not want to know the specifics. Just… Take my advice or don’t.
It doesn’t really make a difference to me.
I felt compelled to warn you. Maybe I shouldn’t have. ”
“Warn me…” I scoff. “You wanted to warn me that the kidnappers who want to rape me are fucked up. Thanks, Mr. Human Trafficker. I guess I’m caught up to speed.”
Sawyer turns his head and stares off absently. I expect him to throw something back at me, but he looks lost. He looks…
“Are you afraid?” I ask, wrapping my arms tighter around myself.
He peers back at me but doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. His face says it all. He’s shaken by something.
“Come here.” He crooks his finger at me and lays his legs back down, sitting up straighter.
For several moments, I just stare at him. He doesn’t look dangerous or sadistic, but I’ve learned that he can be.
What would he do if I said no?
“Please.” He offers his hand. I try not to think too hard about it. Try not to remind myself of earlier, but I can’t get past the calm look in his eyes while he watched me struggle for breath. My fingertips drift to my throat on impulse.
Slowly, I shift toward him and let him take me into his arms. He spins me around and plants my back to his chest like it was before. He isn’t obviously aroused, but that’s hardly comforting. He could be about to drown me for all I know.
He hugs me close to him while planting a kiss on my head. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
I don’t realize my shoulders have tensed until Sawyer’s expert touch makes its way to them, massaging the deep ache woven into my muscles. I’m used to being sore… this is next level.
“You must get told that all the time,” he continues, working his way to my chest. He rubs the muscles there while I let out a shaky breath. My breasts move with every knead of his fingers, nipples tingling as I wait for his hands to dip, for his palms to grope me.
“Not really,” I say just so he knows I’m not rendered speechless. That his touch doesn’t have the power to freeze my mind the way it does my body.
“No?”
I clear my throat when his hands dip just a centimeter lower, massaging the tops of my breasts. For a moment, I forget what he asked.
My appearance…
He must be kidding.
“I believe many men find me intimidating. The rest are unsettled by my condition.”
“Your condition?”
My head turns at that but not quite enough to look at him. Something cuts me off, an invisible cord jerking me to a stop before I can meet his eyes.
He doesn’t know?
“I was born with albinism. It’s a condition where—”
“I know what it is,” Sawyer says, hands sliding back to my shoulders to begin the slow descent all over again. “I don’t know that I’d call it a condition, but you’re… striking. For sure.”