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“They’re laminated. Hardest glass in the world.”
Daphne’s eyes flash in anger and she blurts, “Why do you have them? Did you install them because your little hobby is kidnapping women? Do you bring them here one after the other? What did you do with the rest of them?”
“You’re the first,” I say in a tense voice, “and the windows are laminated because the storms up here are severe and I don’t like waking up in the middle of the night from a tree smashing into my bedroom.”
She stares at me.
“Hm,” she murmurs then but she doesn’t sound like she fully believes me. She should. I’m not a liar. “What about the door?”
“You need a key to open it. A key I don’t plan on giving you.”
Her eyes blaze in rebellion. “Not even if I ask you nicely?Husband?”
That word on her lips is so sweet but it makes me want to do things with her that are the opposite of sweet.
“Not even then, doll face,” I say and jerk my head. “Come on. I should give you a round tour of the house.”
She tenses in her seat, looking at me like she hates me and at the same time wants me to help her. It amuses me, seeing the wheels turn in her mine and fuck...a part of me wants to punish her. Punish her for not being exactly how I had imagined.
Punish her for not...my fists clench...for not remembering. She’s forgotten about the past. Erased it. She must’ve been sitting on a pink cloud all this time and my jaw clenches because good thing I’m here to yank her right off it.
“I don’t want you to retain me here,” she insists. “I swear I won’t tell anyone about you. I won’t tell anyone about what happened.” She looks like she’s trying to curb her distress, trying to think clearly. “I just need you to let me run.”
I’m tempted to reach out and stroke her temple, feel her ease under my touch. She eased into it when I put her in the car. And she reached for me like she couldn’t stand our bodies being separated but then again, she didn’t know what she was doing. It was all intuitive.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I jerk my hand for her to get up and she does so, unsteadily. She watches me like she expects me to pounce on her, her cheeks flushing every time her gaze lands on my muscles. You’d think she’s a virgin. But she can’t be. She’s in her mid-twenties and nobody stays innocent for that long. Least of all a girl who looks like Daphne.
And I feel a tear in my heart when thinking about the man who touched her before me. Maybe there even were several. Maybe they all got to enjoy her over and over and spend her love. Spend love meant for me.
I drag a ragged breath barking, “Let’s go.”
Twitching, she stares at me but she follows and she walks like she’s afraid that any too sudden movements will cause me to attack her. She’s acting like I’m some kind of an animal. Then again, maybe in her blue eyes I am.
Three
Daphne
How is he making this feel almost normal? If I hadn’t been kidnapped, this situation would have felt like spending the night at a boyfriend’s house, then waking up and being given a round tour because I’m supposed to stay for the weekend.
But I don’t think he plans on keeping me here for just the weekend. I think he plans on keeping me here forever. Doing what with me exactly? What could he possibly want from me? I’m a nobody, I have no connections, nothing to offer him. So why me?
And why does he look at me like he knows me? That gaze of his crawls underneath, so reminiscent of a wolf’s, one that’s been in the wild for too long while howling to the moon, shouting out his loneliness, his pain.
Inwardly I shrug myself. Men like him don’t feel pain. He seems almost unreal, his chest rock-hard and he moves like he enjoys killing any obstacles that are in his way. Mess with him and it will cost you. That’s what his whole persona emanates. He’s not used to people saying no, not used to them fighting him because you don’t get a jawline as steely as his by being accommodating.
He’s hard in the way that a soldier is, or someone in a very high up position. Someone who is used to getting his way.
I watch his back as he walks in front of me and his muscles swell under his skin. He doesn’t turn around, not bothering to keep an eye on me but maybe he should. The knife is hidden underneath my sleeve, the blade scraping against my palm and I almost jump in the air, when he opens a door, rasping,
“This is the dining room.”
It’s tastefully decorated like the rest of the house, with draped curtains in the windows and the table is big enough to fit two dozen people. It surprises me. He lives alone. Why does he need a table or a house this big?
“Do you ever eat in here?” I ask, mostly to have something to say and mostly to distract him. I don’t want him to know that I’m planning my escape but I’m already intimidated. Even with a weapon, I don’t know if I’ll be able to overpower him.
Besides there is something about the way his eyes move that tells me he’s good at assessing his environment. If I’m going to be able to get out, I have to strike fast and then fight him as hard as I can.
“Sometimes.” His eyes watch me with intent like he’s searching for something, something hidden. “When my family comes over.”
