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I raise my brows. “You must have a very big family then.”
He stops blinking and there it is again...the disappointment. It makes me shrivel up inside. Which doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t be wary of disappointing him. I need to focus, need to focus on getting out and not fixate over whether I’m pleasing him or not.
But sometimes I can’t help but try to please. It’s a habit. Awound.
He gives a curt nod, gesturing with his arm for us to keep going and we walk under silence and my heart starts acting up. If it comes to it, I’m going to have to cut him. Hurt him. I have never hurt another human in my life but he doesn’t give me a choice. It was he who chose to kidnap me.
When he quickly shows me the living room, I notice that unlike the rest of the house it looks like a mess. Everything is broken, like he purposefully tried to destroy everything in his way and it only confirms what I’ve been thinking all along.
He’s a madman.
He mutters something about needing to call someone to clean it up and we move on. I pretend to pay attention when he opens the door to the basement and he turns on the flashing lights, making me blink.
“This is the gym. Feel free to use any of the equipment that you want as long as you don’t hurt yourself.”
Frowning I murmur, “Why do you care whether I hurt myself?”
“Because...I don’t want to see any harm come to what is mine.”
I’m not his! But it’s as if he’s convinced himself of it and it doesn’t matter what I say or do. In his mind he will still believe it. Swallowing, I avert my gaze. Wrapping my arms around me, I whisper, “I want to go home.”
I say that because I’m trying to give him one last shot. This is his chance to set me free and I won’t have to hurt him.
“Thisisyour home,” he says sharply as if hating the fact that I have options. As if hating that fact that he’s not the only safe harbor in a storm.
“This is a cage!”
“You will be well treated,” he says heatedly and his voice and eyes almost scorch my skin. “Put your trust in me and I will never fail you.”
I blink up at him. An abductor isn’t supposed to say things like that. He’s supposed to threaten me, yell at me, maybe even hit me. So far Husband hasn’t done any of that. But that doesn’t mean that he won’t. What if I do something he doesn’t like? What if I anger him?
I need to get out. I need to ruin his plans of keeping me here before he ruins me. Before those eyes get to me, drown me then freeze me over and keep me under the surface for as long as he likes.
“Aren’t you going to show me the rest of the house?” I murmur and there’s a grain of suspicion in his eyes but he nods. We walk down the hallway and my body tenses, my muscles straining because I am preparing to run.
“Upstairs there’s mostly bedrooms,” he continues, “but there is a library if that is something you like. Most of the books are...” He trails off when he notices that I’m not following. And I’m not going to follow him upstairs. I don’t want to go up there, I want to stay here, close to the exit.
He turns around with a frown on his face and even when frowning he’s still...suggestive. Carnal. Pure masculinity and sensuality. My thighs shiver and maybe it’s not just because of my fear. I pause mid-step, hesitating. He might retaliate and he might do it forcefully and then I’m not sure I’ll still be able to defend myself. But I have to give myself a chance. This could work.
Holding the knife out, I wave with it threateningly.
“You...you’re going to open that door,” I stammer, my back pressing up against the wall. “You’re going to open that door and let me go.”
“Doll face...,” he says in a rough, melancholic voice. It’s the voice of a friend, a person who has you covered no matter what but I can’t let the protectiveness in his tone get to me. I need out.
“Don’t doll face me,” I say angrily. “Open that door!”
His eyes flare in fury, making me backtrack. He doesn’t like being told what to do. He doesn’t like taking orders. I panic, shoving forth the knife and my pulse is racing. He glances at my weapon and then up at me.
“Where is the key?” I slide along the wall toward the door. “Give me the key!”
Blood pounds in my temples and he takes a couple of steps closer to me. He’s so towering that I need to crane my neck, his shoulders three times as big as mine. I don’t have a chance against him. It was pathetic of me to even allow myself to think that and I realize that he’s not going to give me a key.
I stab with the knife in the air, flaying with it left and right when he comes even closer but he knocks it right out of my hand. My mouth flares open in a gasp and I stop blinking.
It didn’t even graze his skin. And now I don’t have a weapon anymore. But he knows that I tried to hurt him.
What is he going to do to me now...?
