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I shake my head. Not because he’s wrong, but because I want him to be wrong.
“You’re not a prisoner. You’re my guest, and I want you to be happy,” he whispers, sucking on my earlobe right after. “I like you, Syrena. I like having you around.”
“I’m not a pet,” I reply, pulling away before he goes too far.
Too far for me to stop him.
“I have wants and needs too,” I add.
“What do you want then?” he asks. “Tell me, and I might be able to give it to you.”
My mouth opens, but I don’t even know what to say.
The first thing that rests on my tongue is freedom … but I know by asking him that he’ll never give it to me, and it’ll only piss him off.
So I opt for something safer. The second thing on my list.
“I want to know if my friends are safe. I want to know if Graham is treating them well.”
There’s a pause before he answers. “I can arrange that.”
It feels as if my heart just made a tiny jump in my chest. “Can I talk to them?”
“That … I don’t know.”
I sigh. The excitement is short-lived.
He approaches me and places a hand on my cheek, caressing me. I’m flabbergasted for a moment. Surprised by his sudden sweetness. “Is that why you tried to escape? Do you miss them?”
I nod. Tears well up in my eyes just thinking about them. I feel guilty for being here. For eating good food and for sleeping in a warm bed when they aren’t. Even if none of us are free, at least my prison isn’t cold and harsh.
“You don’t have to feel bad. Graham won’t hurt them if they’re still useful to him.”
“Which I was not,” I say.
“It’s probably why he sold you, yes.”
My hands turn into fists. I knew it.
“Why me? Why can’t they be safe too?”
“Patience,” he says, cupping my face. “Have faith that it will be resolved. One way or another.”
What does that mean? He’s so cryptic, yet I can’t help but think this is somehow important. Like he’s trying to tell me something without actually spilling the beans.
“Will you save them?” I ask out of the blue.
I don’t know why I think he can.
Maybe it’s because he took me from that hellhole and brought me here.
Or maybe I just know deep down only someone just as depraved as Graham could make a stand against him.
“If I can, I will.” He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me closer, his hard-on pressing against my thighs. He’s still very much naked under the towel. I haven’t forgotten.
“I promise.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat. Why do I feel like kissing him?
It’s insane. I’m going insane.
“Why … why do you do all this?” I ask.
“Because you …” He leans his forehead against mine. “Can save me.”
Me? Save him?
“It’s why I took you from that barbarian.”
“Is that my purpose?” I suck on my bottom lip. If this is what he wants, what he needs before he’ll set me free, then maybe I need to focus on that. Give him what he wants.
I lower my head. “Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
There’s another pause. “As I said, I can’t. I need to discover this on my own terms.”
He tips my chin up so he can look in my eyes, and even though I can’t see him, I can feel him as if he’s peering straight into my soul.
“I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want to be that person anymore …” His grip on my waist tightens. “If you knew who I really was, you would think I’m a devil. And I don’t want you to ever think of me that way again. I want to be a good man.”
“Then be a good man,” I mumble.
“I’m trying,” he says. “Hard.”
“Show me then … show me how hard you’re trying.” I bite my lip. “And show me what kind of monster you really are.”
I want to know him. I want to know what he’s hiding. Why he’s keeping so much a secret. Why he felt the need to kill me and then love me all the same.
A muffled chuckle leaves his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say. “You saved me from him. Graham. He was a real monster.”
My hand instinctively reaches up to his face, and I feel my way around for the second time since I met him. My fingers stroke through his hair, wondering why touching him makes me feel closer to him for some reason. Why it makes me feel like I should get to know him better.
There’s something instinctual between us … like animals that fight for power … and to fuck.
“You want me?” he asks. “The real me?”
I nod even though he’s right. I don’t know what I’m asking. Still, I want to find out.
