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Is this his bedroom?
No artwork decorates the walls. Clothes are neatly hung in a walk-in closet. It’s small, but it is full of men’s clothing. Putting my feet to the side, I reach up and touch the back of my head once more with my hands tied. It hurts. The blood is still on my hand from before, but the bleeding has now stopped.
Did he hit me?
I hear mumbled talking, and when I stand to check it out, my head goes dizzy. I sit back down and close my eyes for a moment, waiting for the nausea and overwhelming light-headedness to dissipate. And manage to untie my hands.
I have to take it slow. And I have to find something to protect myself with and hopefully help to get out of this situation.
I need out.
Now!
Standing slower this time, I manage not to feel like I’m going to fall and take a few breaths before I walk to the other door. Pushing it open, there’s a bathroom with only a shower and sink. I wet my face and push my hair back over my shoulders. As I look down at my clothes, I’m pleased to take in that he didn’t touch me when I was out.
How would that even make me feel?
Dirty?
Violated?
How do I get out of this without lowering myself to his level? The last thing I want to do is let that man touch me.
I don’t want to be touched anymore.
Not unless…
Goddamn! I shake my head again.
There have to be other men out there who can make me feel as good as Lucas can. I can’t want only Lucas. Not just for the mind-blowing sex, but for…
Goddammit again! I hate to even think it, but in the back of my mind, I know I like him.
I like how he cooks for me, and it’s all the things I like. Even if before or after the meal it accompanies something bad.
It’s like he says, “Hey, sorry I killed someone. Eat,” or, “Oh shit, sorry he touched you. I shot him. Eat.”
But we all know Lucas doesn’t say sorry.
Glancing up, there’s a window, and it takes a second to do the math in my head to know I can get through it. And as soon as that realization hits me, I’m climbing onto the sink and reaching for the window, but before I can open it, I hear the outer door open. And I know, I just know, I won’t have enough time to get the screen off and climb out before the bastard finds me. So I step back down, dropping my head on the counter where my feet were as the door opens.
“You have a visitor.”
Quickly, my head spins to Malik, who’s standing there, his eyes on me, roaming every inch of my body. The sleaze.
“I don’t want to see anyone,” I bite back.
“I don’t care. Now, fucking move before I make you move.”
Well, okay then. I stand straight and step to walk out the door, but half of his body is in the way. He doesn’t move, I guess, so I have to squeeze past him. He smiles, or should I say more like leers as I do, getting pleasure in the fact that I have to touch his body to get past him. Venomous words wait on the tip of my tongue to spew at him, but I keep them to myself. He’s right behind me as I exit the bedroom, and the first thing I see is Merci.
She’s on the floor, her body bare as she moves slowly. I run over to her and place my hand on her shoulder. She shivers and flinches back at my touch as if it burns her, so I stand, careful not to hurt her again.
“She couldn’t quite fuck like you.” Malik’s voice is right near my ear, the heat of his breath fanning across my skin. “But that’s no matter. She can scream like the best of them.”
“What have you done?” I ask. While looking down at Merci, my hands bawl into fists, and all I want to do is kill him in any which way possible. Her braids—her long, beautiful braids—are cut off near her neck. Her skin is burned in places, and dried tears mark her cheeks.
“You slept, and I needed someone to play with.” I spin around to face the complete asshole who’s standing right in front of me and take in his face. How he looks pleased to have shocked me. How his brows raise with unabandoned excitement. How his tongue dashes out to wet his bottom lip. My feet stay still, shocked. Damn! I should know better because this man is fucked up. I don’t want to show him my outrage, but the look of smugness on his face makes me want to slice his face off with a knife. I couldn’t hate this man more if I tried.
