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I was a prisoner, just like I’d always been, but this time, there was no threat of torture. Carter never came in to hurt me. He never came in to rape me either.
Not that I could blame him. I looked like hell from not showering.
But then, what did he want me for?
Why did he pay so much money for me to do nothing with me?
I couldn’t figure it out.
“Carter!” I yelled for him at the top of my lungs, desperate to get his attention. Sometimes he came, and sometimes he didn’t. I had no way to know if he was home or not.
A minute later, the bedroom door opened and he stepped inside. This time, he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking just as attractive with clothes on as he did when he was shirtless. “Yes?”
“Please let me go.” I was never the kind of woman who begged for anything, but I was starting to lose my mind. I grabbed the metal around my ankle. “It hurts so much that I can’t sleep. I need to shower. Let me walk around the house. Let me watch TV. Do something…”
He didn’t step into the room, choosing to hover by the doorway. “Is your request supposed to mean something to me? You’re a slave, which means you don’t have any rights. I don’t care how uncomfortable you are. So just shut up and stop bothering me.” He turned away to walk out.
“What the hell is going on here?” I snapped. “Why the hell did you buy me if you’re just going to keep me in here? It’s been two weeks. Men keep slaves for labor or for fucking. You haven’t done either of those things. So, what is the deal?”
Carter stared me down with his cold gaze, giving nothing away.
“Tell me.”
“You’re in no position to make demands.”
“I’m no position to do anything…so tell me. Why am I rotting away in here? If you can’t trust me whatsoever, then I’m just a liability. And if I’m more work than pleasure, there is really no purpose in keeping me.”
His eyes narrowed, full of hostility. “Would you rather I kill you?”
I didn’t know anything about this guy. I didn’t know if he would make good on that threat or not. A part of me, a big part, wanted to say yes. Being a prisoner for so many years had taken its toll on me. There were so many scars on my back that I looked like I’d been burned alive. I wanted this life to end, to close my eyes forever and never open them again. That wasn’t a weakness, just admission of exhaustion. If my life never improved, then there was no purpose. But there was one thing that kept me going, one piece of hope that wouldn’t allow me to ever give up. There was someone waiting for me, someone I could never abandon. “No.”
“Alright, then.” He turned away again.
“Carter, come on.”
He stopped on the threshold then slowly turned around.
“Please. I’m not the kind of woman who begs…but here I am.” I stood next to the bed with the chains around my legs. I brought my palms together and sighed, hoping this man would grant mercy on me.
Something I said must have changed his mind because he walked over to me and unlocked the chains around my ankles.
“Oh…god.” I rolled my head back and rubbed my swollen ankles. “That’s nice…”
Carter watched me, a new expression on his face.
I knew those moans came out inappropriately, but I didn’t care. The shackles were too tight, and my skin burned from the irritation. It was nice to feel free, even for a short while.
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the hot water before he retrieved a towel. “Get in.”
I walked into the bathroom then stood in the oversize shirt I’d been given. I waited for him to leave so I could shower. Whenever someone watched me in his stead, it was usually a woman, so I didn’t care about changing in front of her.
He leaned against the wall, the steam starting to fill the room. “Take off your clothes, or don’t shower at all.”
Even though I’d been raped and beaten more times than I could count, I still hated taking off my clothes against my will. I still respected myself, still thought I should have the right to say no. So pulling those clothes off stung, stung just like it did the first time.
Carter looked at me, his eyes scanning over the old scars along my collarbone and forearms. My back was the worst part because Egor thought my front was too beautiful to defile. Carter looked at me with restrained sympathy, like he didn’t want to feel bad for me but couldn’t help it. But there was also a hint of arousal as his jeans tightened over his front, his large package forming a defined outline near his crotch. There was both darkness and light in him. He was neither good nor evil.
