Page 33 of Roped

When I’m finished speaking, there’s silence. The man holding me captive against his body is still. His arms are tighter, if possible, and I’m somehow clinging to them for support, my nails digging into his bare forearms. Plus, after all my attempts to get free from his hold, I’ve somehow come back to resting my head in the crook of his shoulder and arm. I’m also mapping the arches and planes of his body through the dips and curves of mine, trying to memorize where and how my body fits against his.

I should stop. I should get ahold of myself. I shouldn’t sink into him like he’s the gravity my body is bound with, but I can’t stop myself. Not even when Arsen starts to speak and, surprisingly, gives me all the answers, the leverage, I’ve been looking for.

They call it the Rawhide Redemption, a reformation program for inmates. Instead of completing their sentences on the inside, they’re sent to Rawhide to go through an initiation period. If and when they come out of it, their sentence is served, and they pledge their loyalty to the Graysons and the ranch. This man was one such inmate who’d just completed his initiation period and had started working for the Graysons. However, the Graysons missed something in their initial evaluation of him—not every inmate is eligible for the program; they only let certain kinds of criminals onto their ranch—and they realized his crime was bigger than they’d thought. It was Arsen who had caught this, and he had been in the process of making him confess. It all happened spontaneously, without a plan, or they wouldn’t have left a beaten-up man out in the open. They usually cover their tracks better than this, do a cleanup after. Like they had last night. Of another man in their program. I don’t know who beat that man up, but if I had to guess, I’d pick Radisson.

Finally, I know. I know why their secrets are so well kept and why their cowboys are so tight-lipped and loyal. It was something my father never liked. That he could never make anyone from Rawhide talk. It was hard to break them and find information, and I guess this is why. They don’t just have cowboys. They have an army of cowboys, with a twisted sense of honor and loyalty. With their own code.

I also know—down to my bones—that the man I used to think of as my Phantom is involved in this.

“You’ve got five seconds to rectify your mistake and drop ’em on the floor.”

It’s Arsen’s voice again, and he’s addressed this to Reverie. I’ve been so engrossed in my own thoughts, I don’t understand at first. But it all becomes horrifyingly clear when I watch my best friend start to take her clothes off. She unzips her hoodie and I gasp. “You asshole! Just when I thought you had redeeming qualities!” I struggle against Radisson’s hold to go help my friend, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “Are you actually asking her to get naked? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. Fucking Grayson. If anything, he commands us to get out of here, and I scream. I hurl obscenities at Arsen, at Radisson, too, for holding me captive. Who then picks me up, and with me screeching in his arms, strides out of the godforsaken cabin.

He carries me into the night one-handed, my spine still plastered against his front and his arm around my belly, holding me prisoner no matter how hard I struggle. He bounds down those rickety stairs and keeps walking into the woods, his breaths harsh and his hold on me harsher. I scratch at his arms. I punch at his torso. I flail my legs about, but nothing I do makes him loosen his hold. Until my kicking and flying feet somehow catch him in the knee and he stumbles, cursing. That’s all I need. That’s my opening, and I put my entire body into pushing against him and his hold, at last breaking free.

I drop to the ground and I run.

I run and run through the deep woods, trying to make it back to the cabin so I can save my friend. The ground feels shaky beneath my feet and sharp brambles cut through my skin as I dash under the meager moonlight, but I don’t care. I have to get to her before that animal does something even more horrible. I can hear my own animal behind me, though, my hunter, my Phantom, chasing after me. His thundering footsteps make me pump my legs even faster. Somehow, I manage to burst through the clearing where the nightmare cabin sits. Panting and puffing, I make it to one of the windows at the back and what I see makes me go still.

Arsen sits in a chair, his back to the window, but I can see how wide his thighs are sprawled and how my friend is settled between them. Her clothes are all gone now and Arsen’s hand is tangled up in her hair as he looks down at her. I’d think she’d be in pain with how brutally he’s gripping her—I don’t need to be any closer than I am to be able to see that—but it’s not pain that’s painting my friend’s cheeks red, it’s the pleasure from it, from his possessive grip. Her eyes are glazed and her mouth is parted. She’s looking at him like she never wants to look away. Like Arsen is her entire world. I’ve never seen her like that before, and even though I knew something was happening between her and Arsen, it still comes as a stunning realization that my best friend is in love with him.

Before I can draw my next heaving breath, a hand covers my mouth. I gasp into it, or try to, but it’s too big for me, like I always knew, and its grip is so tight that my breath breaks. I feel his scent of leather and spices all around me and his heat as he rasps, “Told you to not let me catch you, didn’t I?” He squeezes his grip on my mouth, making me whimper. “But you didn’t run fast enough, Princess. Let’s see if you’re ready to play now.”

CHAPTER NINE

I’M UP ON a cliff.

After dragging me away from the cabin, he threw me over his shoulder and carried me into the night for the second time. I was too frozen by what I’d seen through the window to really grasp what was happening. It wasn’t until he stopped, righted my body, and brought me down before depositing me onto a saddle that I realized he intended for me to ride on a horse. The same white one he rode on that morning.

A horse.

My terror was so great that my limbs froze and everything became a blur. I don’t remember him climbing up behind me, but he did and then snapped the reins, so we took off. I also don’t remember what direction we took; what terrain, the passing trees or anything else we might have encountered, while he made his horse gallop and fly. And then, to make matters even worse, I realized we were climbing and I clenched my eyes shut. All through this, he kept a strong hold on me, his arm banded around my belly, and I dug my nails into his skin every time I felt like I was going to throw up. Every jolt made me want to scream, but I couldn’t find my voice to do that and my body shook with fear.

Until now.

We’ve finally come to a stop at the top and I manage to open my eyes. Wide-eyed, I stare at the endless night sky with countless stars surrounding us and the thick woods spread out beneath us. If the night felt dark and oppressive down there, it’s open and lit up here. The air’s fresh and cool, much cooler than it should be for summer, and the churning in my belly starts to calm down as I drag it into my lungs.

Behind me, I feel a movement. The arm around my body vanishes, leaving me shaky once again, and I feel him climb down in one graceful motion. My heart jumps to my throat at the thought of being alone up here when he comes for me. He grabs me by the waist, his large hands spanning my entire torso, his thumbs meeting just above my belly button—something I completely missed before—and sets me down on the ground. His hold isn’t tight but firm, and I realize I need it because my body feels weak and heavy after that terrifying horse ride. I let my hands grip the sleeves of his shirt as, shaking, I look around. We’re at a clearing of some sort. It’s narrow enough that I can see both edges and the ground beyond. The other two sides are covered by dense woods, and all I can see is bottomless darkness.

What are we doing here?

Before I can gather my words to ask him that, he breaks away from my grip. My eyes snap back to him just as he goes for my arms. He yanks them both forward, causing me to stumble. “What…” I begin but forget all the words when I see what he’s got in his other hand.

A rope.

That he throws around my captured wrists and begins to loop.

I snap my eyes up to him. “Wh-what are you doing?”

His head is bent and his face is covered by the brim of his Stetson. The only things I’m able to see are his plump lips and his harsh jaw that’s pulsing as he focuses on the task.

Terrified, but now for a different reason entirely, I start twisting my hands, trying to get free, but he doesn’t let me go. He keeps winding the rope around my wrists without stopping, without sparing me a glance. And I plead, “Look, I know you’re angry. I know I shouldn’t have…” I pull away from him again; in fact, I keep pulling as I speak, but nothing seems to deter him. “I shouldn’t have snuck out of my room… or snooped. But I had to, okay? I mean, you can see that, right? It’s obvious. It’s so… I had to do something. To protect myself. To p-protect my best friend, and I… There’s no way I can trust you guys. After everything you did, everything y-you… You toyed with me for m-months. You watched me. You stalked me. You made me think that you cared when you were just doing it for your family, for… for revenge and…”

No, that’s not what this is about. That’s not why I went snooping. I didn’t go snooping because I’m angry; rather, I’m heartbroken—over what he did to me. Over the fact that he knows everything about me when I know nothing about him. When he won’t even talk to me. That’s not what I was doing, was I?

My idiotic thoughts break when, at last, he looks up.