Chapter 23
POV: Gabrielle?
I was staring at the dark grey wall of his room—absent of artwork, dark and blank, just like my mind right now.
To say I was conflicted would be an understatement. I was more than conflicted, I was totally and utterly, confused—considering a life here with him then considering running away as far as I could and as fast as I could. But I couldn’t bring myself to accept either.
Dane’s arm was draped possessively around me, claiming me as his with just his touch. Though he had claimed me hours ago with much, much more.
I knew I had failed. I knew I was in deep. I knew I allowed him to claim me.
I belonged to him now, whether I liked it or not, I knew I did.
And the worst part of it all wasn’t that I let him fuck him or that I let him hold a claim over me—it was that I wasn’t terrified that he did.
Because the thought of him owning a part of me was actually….comforting?
I continued to stare at the dark, blank canvass of the bedroom wall, while lying in bed next to my kidnapper, and felt safe. Actually safe.
Like I belonged…here.
I could’ve ran now. I’m sure I could get farther than before. I’m sure I could fight him off unrestrained, and probably make it to a road and wave down a trucker or somebody for help.
But I didn’t want to.
It should’ve unsettled me, but it didn’t. Because the first time in my entire life—I actually felt safe with a man. I felt safe with my kidnapper. I felt safe with Dane.
The thought should’ve made me hurl. But instead of bile forming in the pit of my stomach, something else did. Butterflies. Warm, fluttering wings that made me feel…happy?
I scrunched my eyes closed and let out a heavy breath.
I didn’t move an inch but Dane’s heavy body shifted next to me in his sleep, as he dragged my body closer to his so that my ass was pressed as his lower half.
And the memories came flooding back in, one by one.
His lips on mine. His rough voice that somehow put me at ease.
His hands over every inch of open skin. The way he called me, Belle.
The way my nickname on his lips made my entire body want to…
submit. The way he was both tender and rough at the same time.
The way my body responded, submitting naturally, as if it was second nature.
The way he felt inside of me, as if his cock belonged.
The way I knew this wasn’t remotely normal but I didn’t want it to stop.
His grip tightened around my body as he scooted towards me, resting his chin along the top of my shoulder. His free hand ran circles down the top of my spine, causing my body to betray me with every swipe.
“Thinking about something?” His voice was barely above a soft whisper but it undid me completely.
My heart rate increased and I found myself struggling to breathe.
My body knew—it fucking knew that this wasn’t normal.
His calloused hand slid down my backside, slowly—so slow that it felt like torture.
“Belle,” he whispered again into my ear. His hot breath made me whimper. “Belle, baby,” he went on, stroking my lower back, trying to ground me.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
Eventually, my breathing regulated back to a normal state, along with my heart rate.
“There we go,” he said softly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “That’s my girl.”
His girl.
The thought should’ve made me want to barf, but instead it made me beam with pride.
I’m sick.
I’m fucking deranged.
I need to get mental help.
But instead of spitting at him—or fighting him—or running from him—or lashing out internally, I laid there, calm as can be, enjoying this moment.
Enjoying his tender touch on my skin and the way he called me Belle and the feeling building in the pit of my stomach that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, as deranged as this was—was he my soulmate?
“Do you regret it?” he asked.
It took me only a second to respond. “No.”
A short breath left his mouth. “Good.”
I wanted to tell him to take me again.
His voice lightened, “I’ll bring you some emergency contraception.”
I wanted to tell him I didn’t need it. But that was the deranged part of me speaking.
I couldn’t get pregnant, not with his kid. Fucking him was enough—but having a child with him, no, it couldn’t happen.
So, I didn’t respond.
“Go back to sleep,” he cooed into my ear, nibbling at my cartilage then shuffling me further into his body protectively. “You’re safe here.”
His words echoed in my mind.
You’re safe here.
And the fucked up thing was that I believed it.