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How does one stop themselves when the captivity becomes enjoyable? How does one distinguish illusion from reality? How does one convince themselves that they are still prey?
The kiss stops, but he still holds me tight in the same position, his lips only just touching mine. His chest rises and falls with deep, slow breaths and mine seems to be matching his as my body tries to compose itself.
He finally lets go of me, yet my body cannot seem to be able to move. We are standing here, in this beautiful kitchen furnished with natural wood cabinets and white granite countertops, on these warm wooden floors, just staring at each other.
I have to admit it. This man looks like a ruthless god; he is beautiful yet rough, with his wild wavy hair and bushy long beard. He is quite well-groomed without it being too much, and I wonder how come he cares. He lives on a mountain alone after all. Why bother?
No, I cannot do this. I cannot keep falling because I will be too far gone and will not have the strength to lift myself back up. He has this effect on me, emanating this energy that pulls me in and keeps me close, making me soft and compliant.
Suddenly, I feel like I have no air. He is too close, and this open space is not big enough for the two of us. I take a couple of steps back as my hand glides on the edge of the countertop and my eyes hold his. I stop and catch the slight shift in his gaze. For a split second he looked confused, and I am trying hard to figure out what he could be thinking, but this damn man is so hard to read.
His head cocks slightly to the left and even though his expression remains devoid of any feeling or emotion, I feel like I’m being passed through a CT scan. It is uncomfortable, intrusive, and even though I know he cannot read minds, I cannot help but feel like it would not be such a stretch for him.
I try to read his expression, but there are no words there for me to read. His look is passive, but stern, strong, dominant, already holding the answers to questions he did not even need to ask. I know for a fact that he is not even trying to scare the shit out of me. Or anyone that finds themselves at the receiving end of this glare for that matter. No. This is all him, this is natural, this is in his blood, and I find it difficult to hold my ground.
I do not know what he wants from me. Last time I asked, he said that he doesn’t know anymore, and I am not entirely sure what to take from that. Am I still prey? I feel like I am hunted, about to be eaten alive, but maybe not killed. I have to escape; I need to escape. If only I could stop thinking of him catching me and all the filthy things he could do when he does.
All of a sudden, he turns around and continues with his task like nothing ever happened. I shake my head, physically shake it and look around me to find everything the same. Everything in the same place as it was ten minutes ago and it feels wrong, because I am not… I am not the same… and I know for a fact that he isn’t either.
He fills my cup of coffee and slides it my way on the countertop, closing the distance between us in two long steps. I am forcing myself not to step back, but that is exactly what I wish to do. The proximity to him is painful and addictive and I cannot afford the drug.
Yet he does not stop, and suddenly I feel like I can breathe again. With his own coffee cup in hand he walks around me and goes upstairs.
“What the hell…?” I whisper to myself, confused. I stand there, braced against the white granite countertop and breathe. I know, I know I have to leave, but how? There is a snowmobile in the garage that may or may not work, yet that does not mean that it even has enough gas to take me down the mountain. Also… how long is the trip down the mountain?
I know nothing. I have no idea where I am, I have no idea where I need to go, and I am also half fucking naked! I am trapped. I am fucking trapped on a mountain in the dead of winter with a man that threatens not only my body, but my sanity too. This is a whole other level of destruction, completely opposite from what Adrien put me through, and I cannot deal with it. I am not ready for it.
I feel like I could drop on my knees right here, right now and just bellow from the depths of my lungs because I no longer feel like my life is mine. I do not know what to do, where to go, and all I want is freedom. I want my life back; I want to feel like no one owns me anymore…
But how can I be free when all I crave is to be trapped in the strong grip of this sadistic Viking?
My elbows crash on the countertop and my head falls in my hands, tears spilling on the white shiny surface. I am fighting myself as much as I am fighting Niklas and Adrien… I am fighting my needs as much as I am fighting theirs. Yet how can I not? How can I possibly trust my instincts after what I have been through?
For six months I talked to Adrien online. Six long months where he gained my trust, learned everything about me and he did not even have to try too hard, because I just fell for every ounce of bullshit he spit at me. I craved the darkness, I craved the fear, I craved the pain, all wrapped up in a bow of pleasure—he promised me all of it. Six months he made me crave it, promised me a world of pain and pleasure, promised me to make my dreams come true.
Not some sweet metaphorical notion, no. My actual dreams, the ones I had since I was little girl, the ones that haunted my whole life… How can I trust my instincts when he managed to shit on them?
I wipe my eyes, run my hands through my hair and after a few deep breaths in through the nose, out through the mouth, like my PE teacher taught me, I feel better. Logic must prevail. I am still in the game, I just do not know all the rules yet. Most importantly, I do not know him yet. I will not have a chance to win the game if I do not get to know my opponent.
— ‡ —
Maybe half an hour has passed, my coffee cup is empty, but Niklas has not come back down yet. The days are so much shorter in the winter and from looking outside, I can tell the sun is getting tired, yet the view is even more beautiful.
I look at the boarded-up door and suddenly bile rises in my throat. It is impressive how my current situation, Niklas in particular, manages to erase Adrien from my mind in a way that makes me forget that he is still searching for me, watching me.
He could quite literally be watching me right now.
I jump from the sofa faster that I thought my body could manage, and I stare to the door almost expecting Adrien to burst through it. Or catch his reflection in the window again.
Goosebumps creep their way up my body and terror crawls on my skin.
I am sprinting up the stairs before I even realize what my body is doing and when I reach the landing, I am not sure where I want to go. I know which door leads to my room, yet that is not the one I am staring at right now.
How come, even after I rationalized with myself that being around him is bad for my soul, I still find myself looking for his protection? How come my instinct is to look for the safety I know he can provide?
