Chapter 13
My body is jostled, an acrid smell stinging my sinuses. “I know you’re awake, don’t fight me. I’d rather you not go blind.”
What the fuck?
My eyes fly open, body tensing. Sam cradles me in his arms, white tile surrounding us. I struggle, but my hands are bound behind me and my mouth is still taped shut.
“What did I just say?” he grunts.
“Fuck you,” I mumble behind the gag.
He observes me. “Fuck me?”
“Mhmm,” I confirm with a grumble. He bends, setting me into the basin of a bathtub.
“You did fuck me, didn’t you? Came all over my cock like it was the best one you ever had.
Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get it again before we part ways.
” He winks, lightly smacking my cheek, and I growl at him like a fucking animal.
“Oh, there’s the dragon. I was wondering when she would pop out. ”
I glare daggers at him, begging for his brain to explode and shoot out his eyes. Instead, he says, “On your knees.”
Moving my legs around underneath me, I comply. The previous threat to Chelsea’s life ringing loud in my mind.
“Tilt your head back.” The sound of running water drowns out the silence, and I realize what the smell burning my nostrils is—hair dye. I whimper. So much time and money wasted on that signature bright red colour.
He rinses my hair and lathers my body, scrubbing away evidence. His fingers slide between my thighs and I clamp them closed. Sam huffs his annoyance, pulling his hand free.
I feel like I won an inch in a mile long race. But then I’m forcefully pushed forward by Sam’s hand splayed between my shoulder blades. “Let me do this or I’m going to have Brad drag your sister in here.”
Immediately, I still. Knees pinned under me, ass in the air, he thoroughly cleans me.
Walking me through each humiliating step.
Spermicidal gel he takes great pleasure coating me with internally, letting it sit while he conditions my hair.
Douching to cleanse me of all remaining traces of him.
The thought that this all happened to my sister at the hands of someone like Brad, if that is his real name, is enough to make me wither and search for death.
Finally, the water shuts off. His firm grip holds me by the bicep as I get to my feet and exit the slippery tub. My shoulders ache. All I want is to see my sister, and ensure her heart still beats. I don’t know what Brad did to her, but that shell of a human was not my Chelsea.
“Sit on the toilet, facing the wall.” he sighs, the sound heavy with bone-deep exhaustion.
I do as he says, mumbling a question once I’m sitting as comfortably as possible.
“I’m assuming you’re asking to see your sister?”
“Mhmm.”
“Let me get you ready, then if Brad’s done with her, I’m sure you can see her.”
If Brad’s done with her. Nausea stirs in my gut.
I huff loudly through my nose, and he chuffs a laugh.
Then silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
“I never wanted this,” he says suddenly, fingers methodically working through my tangled hair.
“I didn’t know what I was signing up for when I blindly agreed to whatever deal they gave me.
I just wanted out. Too young and naive to really read into the escape I was offered.
I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, they could slit my throat if you breathed a word of it.
But I guess I deserve it after all I’ve done.
” Picking up a hair brush off the counter, Sam gently runs it through my now-ebony tresses, pulling out any remaining knots.
“I’ve been where you’re going, and I’m sorry.
It will be the worst thing you ever experience.
The only way I got out was to become this.
I’m a monster, a weapon to be wielded against the weak and vulnerable.
I don’t expect your forgiveness, but maybe in knowing how I traded one leash for another, you can survive. Maybe Chelsea can too.”
I crane my neck around, eyes searching his face for the lie I expect to be painted there. But all I see is sorrow. Regret. Guilt.
I turn my back to him. I won’t allow him to pull on my heartstrings when he’s about to deliver me to a fate worse than death.
Sam places a long kiss on the top of my head, and I fight the urge to either cry or lash out. I just need to get to my sister. “For what it’s worth, I do like you. I wish we met under different circumstances,” he whispers.
Differe—is he fucking kidding me right now? I duck out from beneath his touch, forcing as much hatred into my body language as I can.
“I was into you the moment I saw you. Then Brad informed me you were the target. You and Chelsea.”
I remember the moment our eyes locked as I boarded the ship, all the crew lined up to greet us.
The connection was immediate, and ran both ways.
I knew it in my gut. Then Brad leaned over, whispering something in Sam’s ear that made his eyes go wide with shock.
Never did I think it could have been a “those are the ones we have to abduct” message between co-conspirators.
Whatever he may feel for me doesn’t matter now since my infatuation with him has been obliterated. The only thing I’m interested in now is trying to escape with my sister, and not dying in the process.
Sam’s lips brush against the shell of my ear, whispering sweet apologies I wish not to hear.
His touch slides down my arms as he nuzzles into my nape, peppering kisses.
I jerk away, but his grip turns constricting.
“Fuck, I don’t want to let you go, pretty girl, but they’ll kill us all if I interfere.
” His tongue licks up my neck, tasting the salty tears that slowly leak from the corners of my eyes.
“I wish we had the time for a proper good-bye. I want to feel you one more time.”
He finally removes his hands from my body, turning to the counter and opening his backpack. “Stand up,” he directs, voice cold. I back off the toilet seat, moving on shaky legs toward him. “Turn around.”
Sam pulls me back against his hard chest, helping me step into a clean pair of shorts.
They are barely more than underwear—bright red with white pinstripes down the side and my ass cheeks peeking out the back.
I can’t imagine a more conspicuous piece of clothing.
He pulls out a black string bikini top, tying it around my neck first. Pulling the strings at the back tight, he adjusts the cups at the front.
My chest is barely contained and I grumble my objection.
He cinches the triangles smaller, a devious smirk on his lips, and I roll my eyes.
His fingers work the strings into a secure knot at the centre of my spine, and I watch through the mirror as his gaze catches my tattoo, trailing down then back up again.
“On your knees, I can’t not have you one last time.”
I turn, dropping to the hard floor. It’s not like I can object, stuck between a rock and hard place in this shit sandwich.
His warm hand cups my chin as the other pulls the tape from my mouth.
Instinctively, I run my tongue across my lips, wetting them.
Sam groans low at the sight, pushing his grey shorts down his thighs.
I open my mouth to object, or plead. I’m not sure which. “Shh, no words, baby,” he coos, guiding his fisted cock between my parted lips.