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“Who is Julian Bellamy?” I grit out, desperate for answers and knowing she’s my best chance at getting them. I need to keep her here for as long as possible. She has to have information on my captor.
“Who?” She quirks a brow at me, grinning as if I’m pathetic.
I remain silent, wanting—no, needing—answers. If I lose my cool, it’s unlikely that this girl will help me, and I need help.
“The Crown. Who. Is. He?”
She steps out of my grip, smoothing out the sleeves of her threadbare apron. “He’s our king.” Her lip curls into a grin.
Our?
It was a benign world days ago, but now it’s laced with so many dark possibilities.
Making a mental checklist of all the options, I almost miss the way the girl’s eyes darken. My inner voice screams, but I can’t get my mouth to cooperate.She’s one of them and I didn’t even realize it.
Her eyes aren’t red, but she’s on his side. She’s no victim. This girl is here of her own free will. She reveres him, if her wide grin and sudden hostility toward me are any indication.
“You’re a fool if you try to leave,” she says, turning away and leaving me once more.
My body sags with regret. I didnothing. It was a missed opportunity to escape. The door had been wide open, and the girl was smaller than me. Maybe she’s a vampire with hidden powers, but she would’ve been my best chance to try.
Better to go out by her then to be sucked dry by the king of them all.
My hands grip my hair by the roots and pull. A scream rips through my chest as I grab the small, round table by the bed, throwing it to the ground. The metal platters clatter against the floor, scattering food everywhere. Chest heaving and breath ragged, I stand in the middle of the room trying to pull myself together while tears stream down my face.
Hope bleeds from me with every sob. At some point, I collapse in a heap on the floor, falling fast asleep, not caring what or who comes to end it all.
* * *
When I awaken, I’m lying on the bed, covered in soft linens once more. How I got up here I haven’t a clue. Last I remember, I was curled in a ball on the floor. Not that it matters. I’m thankful to at least feel rested.
The sun has set and my room is clouded in shadows. My stomach is turning from a lack of food and water. It’s my fault, as I spilled the contents of the trays brought to me earlier, but in truth, I don’t know if eating anything they give me is a good idea. Would they poison me? It’s unlikely if I’m to be their food, but still, how am I to know? I ate what Sarcos gave me at the auction, and I don’t have a clue what happened to me or for how long I was out.
If I’m to escape, I need to keep my wits about me, but I also need strength. Right now, I don’t think I could fight off the small girl from earlier if I needed to. I’m weak and dehydrated. I decide to try to round up some of the spilled food from earlier, but as I stand from the bed, I see that the mess from earlier is cleaned up. The table is righted, and two silver dishes sit atop it. I don’t waste time removing the covers and sighing at the replacement food waiting for me.
Someone has been in here, and as much as I want to dissect that truth more, I’m not going to waste the chance to finally eat. Poisoned or not, I’m starving. The trays are filled with chicken, pasta, bread, and a variety of fruits. I want to gorge myself, but I learned my lesson in the dank cell of the auction house. I eat only what I think my stomach can handle, but I drink every last ounce of the water in the full pitcher.
When I’m done, all I want to do is sleep, but curiosity wins out. I need to pull apart this room to see if I can find anything to help me understand my surroundings. Anything that could help me escape.
I begin by looking under the bed.Nothing.Then I pull out every drawer in the armoire, only to find it stocked with comfy socks and panties in every color. The last drawer is empty. As I pull out a black lacy thong, I check the tag and then I grab another, checking that size too. Every single piece is my size.
How can that be?
Why would this room be stocked full of essentials that aren’t mine in my size? Did he arrange this before I got here? And if he did, how the hell did he know my size? Tingles crawl up my spine at the thought of him or any of them looking at my underwear for sizing purposes. Did they strip me down while I was out?
“Ugh,” I yell out, frustrated that yet another day has gone by and the questions without answers just keep mounting. I stalk toward the one door in the room I haven’t yet opened. It’s a large walk-in closet and it’s stocked to the brim with everything any girl could need. From beautiful blouses to sundresses, pantsuits to sweatshirts; no expense was spared based on the designer tags.
Every freaking piece sized perfectly.
“That son of a bitch,” I screech, for so many reasons. All the ways he could know what size I am. The fact that I’m going nowhere—nobody would spend this type of money if they had any intention of letting me go. Not to mention the outrage of being kidnapped and the indignity of being sold like livestock.
Better here and alive than out there and dead.
Sometimes I hate my inner voice. That stupid, optimistic bitch, who loves to act like the voice of reason, when all I want to do is lash out. She isn’t wrong. With a closet this full, I can only hope that Julian, the king of monsters, might not plan to drain me of my life. At least not quickly.
I’ve managed to find nothing to help me with my efforts to escape, and there are still no hints as to where the hell I am. I could be in Asia at this point. And where the hell is Julian? Am I to be shut in this freaking room forever? Frustration and anger collide as I begin tearing clothes off their hangers and throwing them about the closet. I grab a grey jumpsuit and pull at the seams, needing to rip it to shreds. With every stitch that comes loose, the tension in my shoulders wanes momentarily. Destruction feels good. It feels necessary to channel my fury.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” The alien accent snakes its way up my spine, leaving chills in its wake.Not Julian... a woman. “Thatwasa perfectly gorgeous, one-of-a-kind Chanel.”
