Chapter 10
POV: Gabrielle?
You would think I’ve already suffered through the worst days of my life, you know being kidnapped and all.
But I hadn’t.
Yet.
Right now, this very second was the absolute worst day of my life and I knew that now.
Because I woke up with the worst fucking headache of my damned life.
Allergies, they’re a bitch, whether you’re kidnapped or not, and haven’t had a whiff of dander or plants or pollen in days, somehow, someway, they’ll still hit you.
Fuck.
Fuck my life, literally.
I thought being kidnapped by a fucking psychopath was the worst possible thing to happen to me but this—well this takes the cake, especially when I have an actual visual migraine and I can’t see straight.
I hate when that happens, when I lose my sight and all I see is blackness. My doctor’s call it genetic. I call it my own personal hell.
What should I do?
I don’t even know what time it is. How would I get a hold of Dane?
I got to my feet, wobbling as I did, and almost falling over. It was hard to walk when you couldn’t see straight. Just as I thought I was on the way to the bathroom successfully, my head landed, straight into a wall. Goddamn it, this fucking hurts. It hurt bad.
I groaned, using my hands to feel my way to the bathroom, and when my feet hit the tile, I almost screamed hallelujah, singing like I was in a church choir.
I dropped to my knees, tossing water over my face and trying to bring my vision back. Cold water always flushed the system.
Slowly, my vision changed to blurry instead of pure darkness.
But then I heard it, Dane’s voice over the camera. “Belle—what’s wrong?”
I groaned, mortified. I couldn’t even see straight. “My allergies. I have a visual migraine. I can’t see.”
I expected a response, you know something, especially since my sight was practically non-functioning right now but I heard only silence.
Then I heard footsteps and the door knob turning and I knew Dane was there, watching me.
“Here,” he said, and I felt his body close to mine and he pushed my water soaked hair out of my face.
“What—what are you doing?” I asked too quickly.
“It’ll help your allergies,” he said, lifting the sleeve of my shirt and rubbing what smelled like isopropyl alcohol on my skin.
I swatted away his hand instinctively.
“What? You don’t want help? You’d rather go with blurry vision and a killer headache all day?”
I groaned, knowing he was right. I needed his help.
“Then tell me what you’re going to do to me,” I said bluntly.
From my blurry vision, I could see him, watching me. “I designed an allergy shot. Sometimes mine act up too—out here in the forest.”
I flinched, without thinking, because in truth, I didn’t trust him completely. He was still my kidnapper and I was still his victim.
Then I finally nodded, trying to straighten my arm and relax my shoulders.
His calloused fingers waded over my skin, lingering, almost as if he was savoring this exact moment. Then the needle punctured my skin, causing me to wince for a second.
I blinked twice, my vision was still blurry but it was beginning to go back to normal.
What the actual fuck.
He wasn’t lying. It actually worked. It actually fucking worked.
“Thanks,” I muttered, as he looked down at the ground.
“You’re welcome. I hope you feel better soon.”
Did Dane, my psychopath kidnapper actually feel bad for me because I have a bad case of allergies? Could I use this to my advantage?
“I left a water bottle for you on your bedside table. Breakfast is on the table. Take a bath, watch some tv, I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“A few hours?” I asked, almost sad.
He didn’t respond, instead he just shut the door behind him, leaving me in perpetual shock. I was confused. I was conflicted. I didn’t know how to feel.
Then I felt something pool in my core.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
This can’t happen. This actually can’t happen.
I guess I was wrong before, now—it’s the worst day of my life.
Because right now I was staring at blood soaking through my pajamas bottoms.
I quickly scurried to the bathroom, dripping blood as I did and digging underneath the bathroom cupboard. There was a slim chance he’d have feminine products underneath here, but judging by all the other time’s this psychopath has surprised me, I’d take the chance.
Ah-ha! I eeked out, clutching the tampons as if they were my holy grail.
By the time I was all cleaned up and finally able to breathe I went straight for the food. After all, I needed it. Periods, especially while kidnapped, were a bitch.
I ate the chocolate chip pancakes in bed, drank all the coffee and the orange juice and practically inhaled the sausage patties. I was busy watching the seventh episode of 90 day fiance when the door opened and in Dane walked, dressed in black sweatpants and a black shirt and he looked….fucking hot.
My period was officially making me horny.
Stop looking at him, Gabrielle. If you give in, then you’ll never get out.
I pressed my back into the back of the headboard and smoothed the back of my hair out.
Stop that, too, don’t be self-conscious of how you look.
He offered me a lopsided smile. “It’s dinner time.”
“Dinner time?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Early dinner,” he corrected. “But I have a surprise for you.”
I stared at him.
“I made a cheesecake.”
“A cheesecake?” I asked, my mouth practically salivating.
That lopsided grin still remained on his face, making me melt little by little with each second.
Damn him for being so damn good looking and kind during my period.
“I figured you could use something sweet.”
I bit my lip, thinking, well I could use some cheesecake and maybe some milk.
He watched me carefully as I got to my feet, pajamas and all, my nipples clearly hard and the outline of my boobs visible, but despite that his gaze remained on my face.
He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, fiddling with the metal handcuffs and motioned for me to hold out my wrists.
“Really?” I scoffed, looking down at the cuffs.
“Really. I may be compassionate but I still realize the risk.”
The risk.
At the end of the day, that’s what I was. A risk.
I nodded, not feeling up to argue, and lifting my wrists.
He cuffed in one swift motion and led me out of the room and down the hallway. I sat at the table without fighting, I let him uncuff me and cuff one to the chair then walk away behind me. I was too tired to fight. Periods are a bitch that way.
Within a minute, he brought back a plate of food and a plastic cup of red wine. He sat down the plastic plate in front of me, a steak cooked and cut to perfection, a heaping green beans, and fingerling potatoes. It smelled amazing.
Then he took a seat across from me, putting a fork in a piece of bloody steak and taking a bite out of it. “You need iron. Eat.”
I didn’t question it, I just ate and by the time I finished, I could barely breathe properly.
“Thought it was good?” he smirked, leaning back in the chair, folding his muscular arms against his chest. Cords of muscle rippled, causing my gaze to become fixated on it as if it was the only thing I saw. “You’re staring, Belle,” his tone was humorous.
With wide eyes, I quickly drew my gaze back up to his, my cheeks heating from the embarrassment of being caught.
“How are you feeling?” his tone softened.
“Fine…just a bit light headed.”
“Are the meds working? Are you in any pain?” he sounded concerned.
My gaze searched for the humanity I sought to see in him, but eventually drifted back down to my empty plastic plate. I needed to stop looking. “I’m okay. Thanks for everything.”
I finally said, “I feel you watching me.”
He didn’t respond.
“I know you’re always watching me, probably studying me, surveying me, learning my behaviors. I still hate you, Dane.”
“I know,” he simply said. “I don’t blame you. But hate is still an emotion, Belle.”
I looked up at him and he was still staring at me, into my very soul. “I don’t have feelings for you.”
But I felt like I was lying to myself.
Because I did. I had feelings for him, and I had no idea why or how to make them stop.
“It’s perfectly normal to lie to yourself, Belle.”
“I’m not lying.”
“But you are, sweetheart. I see the way you look at me and how your body responds to mine and when I’m sweet to you, you soften. Because in truth, Belle, you were always attracted to me, as I was to you. And now you see the real me, and it frightens you, but it also excites you.
I’m sure your mind wants it to stop, but no matter how hard you try, it won’t. Because we work.”
“We do not!” I yelled, feeling the cuff restrict. “You kidnapped me. There’s no world we’d ever work in.”
His eyes lit with a fire. “You’re angry and you’re horny and you’re scared, and you don’t know which one to feel.”
“I’m angry but I’m not horny or scared, Dane! Just please, let me go already.”
“What will you do for me?” he asked, testing me again.
I scoffed. The sicko. “Nothing!”
His smile only widened. “Good girl.”
Then he got to his feet without another word and brought back the freshly made cheesecake.
He cut the slice slowly, teasing me with the proximity of an actual knife, a few feet away from my face, like the possibility of escape, then sliced a hefty slice of cheesecake and set it down in front of me with a plastic glass full of milk.
His smile spread wider. “Enjoy.”
I thought about not eating it. But fuck it, I’m here I might as well enjoy myself on my period.
The first bite of cheesecake was the best. I almost let out a moan but held it back.
Dane just sat there at me, smiling, watching me almost moan to the taste of his cheesecake.
“For a psychopath you are a good cook.”
His tongue ran over his lip. “For a psychopath, I’m good at a lot of things.”
My body tensed at the innuendo.
He stretched his arms over his hand, causing me to fixate on the tension. The tension of his arms around my body. His lips on mine. Then his tongue…down there.
Stop, Gab, you’re sick, you’re sicker than him.
“I don’t mind some blood, Belle. I can work with blood,” he sent simply as if talking about eating me out on my period was normal.
“How did you know?” I stuttered out.
He shrugged. “I saw the blood on the camera, you left some on the carpet.”
Oh god, I was about to vomit.
My face went beet red. “You’re not touching me.”
He shrugged. “As you wish, but an orgasm could do you some good. Offer you some relief.”
“I want to go back to my room.”
“Fine,” he said, getting to his feet, towering over me, grabbing my wrist tightly and looking up at me. “I just want to take care of you.” Then he cuffed my other wrist and led me back down the hall.
We walked in silence.
But the entire time all I could think about is letting him take care of me…with his hands, with his tongue, with his cock.
I was depraved, sick, twisted, but today I saw something beneath him, something I actually…liked and it terrified the shit out of me that I wasn’t as scared as I was before.