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“I’m going to go grab water and some bandages, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Well, you know what I mean.”
I snort, lifting my wrists to show I can’t really go anywhere anyway.
I stare up at the ceiling, watching the fan blades spin and spin, blurring together with a force I wish I had at this moment. The breeze feels good against my feverish skin, drying the sweat until I feel sticky. I’d like to shower and put on a clean pair of clothes. I hear him rummaging around in his bathroom, and I’m left wondering why the hell I’m here and how he knows me or what he wants with me.
He knows my name, but I don’t know this man. I have never met him, and I’d remember a face as beautiful as his. It’s one that isn’t easily forgotten. He’s all sharp edges, intense gazes, stubble on his cheeks, and muscular arms under his tailored shirt. His espresso-brown hair is almost black, but I notice the depth of the warm hues throughout the styled strands in the light.
I shouldn’t notice such things about my kidnapper’s brother, but even tied like a pig, I suppose it’s hard to ignore when someone is absolutely breathtaking.
My attention floats to the bedroom door, and I want to try to get up again, but it’s pointless. I can’t walk like this. All I have to do is give it time. Dri seems to be a little more level-headed, still kind, but not as careless as his brother. Maybe if I talk to him, he will let me go home.
“Okay, this isn’t going to be fun. It will hurt, but I’ll try to make it as quick and painless as possible.” He sets the first-aid kit on the bed, then opens the door to the mini fridge across from the foot of the bed, snagging a bottle of water. He smiles; well, it's more like a sexy smirk as he walks over to the side of the bed. He unscrews the cap, and the crack of the plastic breaking causes me to flinch.
I imagine this guy breaking my bones for a split second, and new fear has my heart rate kicking up a notch.
“I won’t hurt you, Mable. You have never been safer, and I promise you that.” The bed dips when he sits down next to me, and his thumb slides under my chin. “Open,” he says.
I roll my lips together instead.
He lifts a groomed brow, amused by my antics. “You think I’d poison you only when I’ve just got you? Silly, girl.” He lifts the bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig. My dumb brain forgets where we are for a moment, and I watch as his throat moves up and down. He licks his lips, but they are still wet from the water. “See? It’s safe.”
I open my mouth, lifting my head and dying for something to drink. He bends down, cups my head with his large palm, and holds me closer to him. He presses the bottle against my lips, and I whimper when he tilts it.
“Careful,” he warns just as the cold water hits the back of my throat.
I chug it, but some runs out of the side of my lips. I don’t care. I drink it greedily as if I haven’t had a drink in days. It feels like days…hell, weeks.
He pulls the water away, and I can take a breath.
“Slow down, or you’ll drink too much too fast and get sick.”
I don’t say anything but nod my head to acknowledge I heard him. He lifts the bottle to my lips again, and I try to drink it slower. The plastic crinkles the emptier the bottle becomes, and when I’ve consumed every drop, it tosses it to the side.
“Better?”
I nod my head, lying back down on the bed, sighing. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He opens the nightstand and grabs something that fits in the palm of his hand. With a flick of his wrist, a blade slashes through the air, and the shine of the light reflects from the silver.
A scream rips through me, and I roll away from him, falling right off the bed with a hard thump. My shoulder screams since it hits first. The shards of the damn vase impale in my skin dig deeper from hitting the floor, and I cry out again.
“Mable!” Dri runs around the bed and is at my side instantly.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” I beg him, letting the tears I’ve been holding back fall free. “Please. I just want to go home. Please.” I can’t seem to stop begging. “I just want to go home. Can I go home?”
His arms are under me, lifting me from the floor and onto the bed again. I hiss when his hand drifts over my shoulder, and a flash of anger drifts over his eyes.
“Why would you do that? Why would you hurt yourself?”
“You have a knife! How was I supposed to react?” I scream at him, turning my head away as I cry. I squeeze my eyes shut and think about my best friend, the only person in the world who cares about me. She will come for me. She will figure out something is wrong when I don’t call her.
His hands are on my cheeks, his thumb rubbing against my bottom lip as he turns my head. “Look at me, Mable.”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. This is all a bad dream. It has to be.
“Look. At. Me,” he repeats.
I open my eyes, and he is holding the knife again. I whimper, trying to wiggle away from him, but he holds me down, slicing through the ropes around my wrist. “That’s all I wanted to do. That’s it. You aren’t a prisoner here.”
