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Chapter Four
Carter is pulled from a safe, fuzzy place inside his head when he’s suddenly picked up by someone, his body apparently no longer strapped down to the bench from before. He clings to the person’s shoulders as he’s carried off the stage, his mind spinning as he tries to remember the man finishing with him. He decides quickly that he doesn’t care enough to worry about it. He just wants to go back to being fuzzy again.
Fuzzy is safe.
Fuzzy doesn’t hurt.
“Sir, would you like your slave prepared for transport?” someone asks.
“No,” the man holding Carter says firmly. “I’m transporting him myself.”
“Are you sure? It’s been a long evening. We will deal with him for you. Clean him. Water him. Prep him. Plug him. He’ll arrive in his cage at your compound in the morning.”
No trace of the soft, kind man from before is left when the man speaks. His tone is cold. Dangerous. “I do not repeat myself.”
“Of course! Yes. So sorry, sir. Is there anything we can do for you, then?”
“Yes. Get out of my fucking sight,” the man growls. Carter sinks in on himself, burying his face in the man’s neck at his anger. The man adjusts him in his arms and hushes him. “Not mad at you, sweetheart. You did so very well for me up there.”
Sweetheart.
He keeps using that.Why? Is it part of his game?
Who the fuck is this guy? What does he want? What does he plan on doing to Carter?
Something heavy brushes Carter’s bare arm, startling him. He’s hushed again, the thing leaving his arm before coming back less heavy. It’s not until the mystery item is spread out to cover his entire curled up body in the man’s arms that he realizes what it is.
A blanket.
This man has given him a blanket.
It’s warm. Soft. The sensation on his skin is so phenomenal that it brings fresh tears to his eyes beneath his blindfold. He hasn’t been given a blanket once since being kidnapped. No pillows. No mattresses. No clothing. Just cold concrete.
God, he had forgotten how good it felt to be cocooned in a blanket. His entire body shudders with the pleasure of it, an appreciative sigh falling from his lips. He feels himself sinking into that fuzzy safe place again.
The man seems to notice. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just rest. Let me take care-” whatever else the man planned on saying is cut off abruptly, his movements halting as well. Every muscle in his body goes tense.
Then someone says, “Roarke.”
“Henley,” the man holding Carter replies.
“Congratulations.” The person – Henley – laughs. The man holding Carter does as well. Carter feels the rumble against his body. “I know you’re leaving, but I’d love to set up a meeting for this following week. We need to discuss Miller.”
“Ah, yes.Miller.” Carter shivers at the utter disdain in the man’s voice when he says the nameMiller. “I’ll have Benny get in touch with you.”
“Perfect. Enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, trust me. I will.”
Carter doesn’t like the sound of that.
At all.
He knows he should be listening to Casey’s advice now that he’s being transported. He should be paying attention to every detail. He should be ready for his moment. Instead, he just wants to sleep. He’s so fuckingexhausted. It’s been an eternity since he last slept well. Probably not since they drugged him when he was initially captured. Adding the blanket isn’t helping. The only thing that could make this better right now would be some food to alleviate the ever-present ache in his body.
At the thought, Carter’s stomach grumbles. A man laughs. There’s no rumble against Carter’s body, so he knows it wasn’t the man holding him. He doesn’t get a chance to appreciate that before Henley is saying, “Sounds like the slut is hungry.”
“He’ll have to beg if he thinks I’m going to feed him.” Carter sags in defeat at the cruelty in the man’s words. He just wants to curl up and cry for days on end. This man doesn’t make any sense to Carter. He hushes him and calls him sweetheart, but he rapes him. He covers him with a soft blanket, yet he’s going to make Carter beg for food.
