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I struggled against the compulsion, but only managed to make a small, frightened sound. The smoke grew thicker. Stinging my eyes. Burning my throat.
“I wouldn’t fight it,” Lemaire said. “There are two ways out, and one is blocked by fire. Stay behind, and you’ll die.” He moved closer and put a hand on my belly. “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”
I shuddered at the possessive touch.
His blue-touched eyes glowed impossibly bright. “You’re going to come with me, Eden Montgomery. You’ll stay within a meter of me at all times. Say ‘yes, master’ if you understand.”
Against my will, my lips moved. “Yes, master.”
“That’s my pet.” Taking my arm, he strode back to the stairs to the lower level, pulling me onto the landing and locking the door behind us.
He released me and reinforced the compulsion by repeating that I was to stay within a meter of him, then ran lightly down the metal steps. The compulsion tugged at me like I was attached to a rope with him at the other end, forcing me to follow at the same speed so that I remained within a meter of him. I jogged down the steps after him, a hand on the rail, praying I wouldn’t trip and fall.
When we reached the bottom, he turned in the opposite direction of the cellar where I’d been imprisoned. This hall wasn’t lighted. I had to feel my way along the wall, helpless against the compulsion’s pull, my legs moving as fast as they could despite my attempts to slow down.
Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go. When Lemaire halted, I nearly ran into him.
“Stop,” he ordered absently, his attention on something in front of him.
Metal groaned, then slid to the left. A metal gate.
Lemaire took me by the arm and pulled me through an opening. The gate slammed shut behind us.
“Keep following.” He set off again, at a slower pace this time.
I found out why when I felt rough stone on either side of me. We’d entered a narrow tunnel. The damp air had a salty bite, and somewhere ahead, the surf boomed.
I trudged behind my captor, feeling my way along the uneven, pitch-black passage, trying not to panic. What if the cavern narrowed further? Lemaire was lean as a weasel. He might not have calculated for my pregnant body.
Events had happened so quickly that I’d been moving on autopilot, fueled by terror and adrenaline, my focus on surviving at any cost. Now I steadied—and noticed that the compulsion to follow him had lessened.
My step hitched. The adrenaline kicked in again.
Run.
I actually took a small step backward until I realized I had nowhere to go. The way behind us was blocked by the gate. The only way out was forward.
And yet… Lemaire didn’t seem aware that I was no longer bound to him as firmly. If I could fool him into thinking I was still under his compulsion, I might be able to escape.
I kept walking.
The sound of the surf grew louder. A light breeze teased at my nostrils. I drew a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh ocean scent. After two days in a dank cellar, it smelled like freedom.
Gradually, the darkness lightened. Somewhere ahead, light sparkled on an expanse of water, and then we were out of the tunnel and in a sea cave, its walls carved by the ocean. Moonlight slanted through the large opening, illuminating a small motorboat floating inside the cavern, its glossy black hull barely visible against the night sky beyond.
Lemaire ordered me to get into the boat and leapt the half-dozen meters to the deck, leaving me to wade through waist-deep water.
The ocean surged, lifting me off my feet. I lunged up for the mooring line, fighting to remain upright as the icy liquid receded, sucking at my legs. The nylon line stretched, and I almost went under. Somehow, I managed to stay upright, but the shock broke Lemaire’s compulsion for good.
Clinging to the line, I waded the last couple of meters to the boat. The water was up to my armpits now. The last few steps I was half-walking, half-pulling myself along the line until I reached the metal cleat it was fastened to.
I had to stretch up to grab the cleat. I clung to it, my other hand on the hull, as the ocean tugged at my water-logged clothing.
“I need help,” I told Lemaire, careful to wipe my face of expression.
Muttering under his breath, he fastened cool fingers around my wrists and swung me aboard. “Sit.” He pointed at a short bench on the boat’s port side.
My sweater and jacket were soaked, my short leather boots filled with water. I sloshed across the deck and lowered myself onto the bench.
