Well, this would be one mess he wouldn’t have to clean up. Quinn was perfectly capable of doing that for herself.
“My clothes,” Quinn asked, wincing at the hoarse croak that emanated from the general region of her throat. Scooting towards the edge of the bed, careful not to knock her arm, she turned a bland stare to the Beta who wasn’t doing half as good a job of hiding his thoughts as he believed he was. Derision and repugnance lit up those dark eyes while he tried to make a show of not looking at her as she stood.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but the things you were wearing when you came here—”
“You mean when I was kidnapped after he raped me in my apartment.”
“Were rags and have been thrown out,” the Beta finished as if she hadn’t interrupted him. Moving to a set of doors, he opened them wide to show a closet about as big as Quinn’s last apartment. “Mr. Kahler asks that you—”
“Who?”
“That you help yourself to anything in the wardrobe until other arrangements can be made.” Tone razor sharp, the Beta paced to another set of doors that let into a bathroom that neared the size of her current apartment. “Do you have any requests for dinner? Mr. Kahler wishes you to have anything you desire.”
“Well, whoever that is, all I want is access to a phone.”
“Perhaps, after you’ve refreshed yourself with a shower and a meal, we can discuss that, Miss.”
Features going slack, Quinn stared at the Beta with all the seething anger she could muster. With the enraged tenor of her shoulder and a strange pressure in her chest, it wasn’t half as impressive as she’d wanted it to be.
“He wishes you to remain here until he returns.” Delivered in a flat monotone, the Beta stared back with unsympathetic eyes.
“That’s just too bad. I want a phone.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Miss.”
“No, this is not okay! I’m not in heat anymore. You cannot keep me in this fucking house.”
It was obvious that they both wanted to be anywhere but in that room, and just as apparent that neither was going to back down on the issue. Lush lips thinned as the Beta expanded his chest in a deep inhale.
“I’ll ask the cook to prepare roasted chicken for you then, shall I? You seemed to enjoy it before.”
Before Quinn could so much as twitch in his direction, the Beta had gone out through the door and shut it with a decisive thud. The snick of metal driving home clattered through the room. With rounded eyes and parted lips, Quinn stared at the door. He couldn’t have just locked her in.
Edging towards the door as if it was an unknown animal, trembling fingers lightly touched the doorknob. When nothing untoward happened, like a few hundred volts zapping her unconscious or a pack of rabid dogs giving up a cry of alarm, she wrapped her hand around the brass and turned. Even sure as she was that it wouldn’t open, she still gasped and scurried back when it caught and held.
All she could do was stand there and stare in disbelief for the longest time. Spiteful plans to destroy the nest, his bed, anything she could lay her hands on were swallowed up in a rising tide of something dark and terrifying. Ranting screams and wailing tears were smothered under it. The lightest breeze would have knocked her over.
She’d been with Alphas before, knew their ego and aggression well enough to have gotten this far unscathed. Having dealt with the overbearing, the possessive, even a violent Alpha or two, she thought she could manage all that they threw at her when she was at her most vulnerable. This had all the hallmarks of insanity though.
Staggering under the turbulent current of her thoughts, she looked around at the lavish room. Leaden steps took her to the window past unseen measurements of wealth so she could look out into the darkness beyond. Manicured lawn stretched for untold ages before meeting a fortress of trees. Unobtrusive lights illuminated tasteful garden beds closer to the house. Pressing her forehead to the cold glass, she looked straight down. Three stories up, not a single bush was to be found that could break her fall if she thought to jump.
Rubbing at her chest where the suffocating pressure was increasing with every strained breath, Quinn stumbled to the bathroom. A cursory glance brought a glimmer of recognition. She hadn’t been lucid, but she remembered the open space with echoing white tile. Maybe she could think if she could just get his scent off her. Maybe she could keep a hold of her sanity. Keeping her head low, she managed to avoid her reflection in the large mirror as she climbed into the massive glass walled shower.
Scrubbing her skin raw and red, she ignored the scrape of bites and the pulsing of bruises. The agony at her shoulder wouldn’t quit. The bandage was soaked, leaking sluggish crimson trails to swirl down the drain. Whatever the bastard had done to her, the uneasy somersault of her stomach refused to let her peel back the sodden gauze to look at it. Raking the sharp edge of nails against her scalp, she let the slow burn distract her for the moment.
Digging out a space of calm in the black hole of her thoughts, she examined the situation. Locked up in a stranger’s house and miles from the city, it wasn’t likely that she’d be able to just walk out the front door. There was also the fact she was as weak as a kitten from Gods knew how many days of a delayed heat. Taking the time to regain some strength would be the smart thing to do.
The idea of remaining there for even a minute longer was enough to make her skin grow clammy and prickle with goosebumps under the steaming spray.
Shaking off the sensation, Quinn cut off the shower and climbed out. Once draped in a towel that could wrap around her body twice, she went to the closet in search of something resembling actual clothing to wear. It was a good thing she hadn’t been expecting much.
Miles of shirts with stiff collars and impeccable taste cast their judgment down at her as she wandered through the space. Dress slacks and suit jackets spurned her from their territory along the back wall. The center aisle was crowded with watches and ties, cufflinks and other male paraphernalia. Tipping her head forward, Quinn stared at the organized drawers tucked under racks of glossy shoes with pale grays narrowed to vicious slits.
Folded boxers stared back, mocking the sneering curl of her lips. An array of crisp white undershirts taunted her with their thin fabric. There wasn’t a single casual t-shirt to be found, no sweatpants that could be adjusted to her far smaller frame. Everything was tailored to the male and his ridiculous size.
The heel of her hand dug into her sternum. Seeking to dislodge the weight of a bull elephant from her chest, eyes closed to concentrate on filling starved lungs with air not tainted by the Alpha. Whatever was wrong with her now, it was all his fault. That much she knew at least.
Pale lashes parted, her eyes silvered in the neutral lighting. She turned in a slow circle, eying the rows of costly attire. Stepping back, Quinn let a smile spread her lips wide.
