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“You’re not the one who makes the rules. And I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that pretty ass of yours again and seeing it turn red from my discipline. Remember, sub, we have a contract which states unequivocally that you agree to surrender yourself to my authority.”
Ignoring him, Miley said, “Let’s see if we can’t do something about these bindings. They feel like cheap cotton line—maybe laundry line?”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” said Damon. “Frannie once told me her father preferred to have all of his linens line-dried in the sun.”
“Fine. Let me see if I can manipulate the knots and get your hands free. If I can do that, you can untie your feet and then set me free.”
“Oh, to have a violet wand again,” he said wistfully, making her laugh.
“You are a sick bastard,” she chuckled.
Sliding her hands up and down the pole, she was finally able to get hold of the thin rope around Damon’s wrists, untying the loose knots and freeing his hands.
“Such a clever girl,” he crooned.
“You do know that’s what the hunter says to the velociraptor right before she kills him, right?”
“Seems as good an analogy as any—smart, quick, works well alone or in a group and only defeated by the T-Rex’s greater strength.”
“Yeah, but those tiny upper limbs and hands—you know what they say about men—small hands, smaller dick. But then I suppose that wouldn’t apply to you, now, would it? I mean, we both know better.”
“I am so taking you to The Carriage House when we get out of here. And I am definitely buying a spinning wheel like the ones they had in the old amusement parks where the beautiful, sexy girl is strapped to the wheel and it spins as her partner throws knives at various balloons, popping them and scaring the audience.”
Miley laughed again. She realized she’d laughed more with Damon than anyone she’d ever known, including Seth. She really was going to have to tell him she loved him. The admission to herself was no longer as scary as it had once been. He just put it all out there, and she was so cautious. He was right, and she needed to be the badass he believed she was.
Damon came around to the front of the pole, took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, hungrily. God, the man knew how to kiss. He knew how to make it more than foreplay; it was an end in and of itself.
“Count yourself lucky that I don’t believe we’re out of danger yet,” said Damon.
“I think you’re probably right, and you should untie me.”
Damon reached around behind her and untied the knots that kept her wrists bound behind her back. He then knelt down and untied her ankles, freeing her from the pole and steadying her as she stepped away.
They moved around the space together—Damon looking at the wine, smashing the most expensive bottles onto the floor—while Miley searched for a means of escape. There were two doors, one which led up into the house and the other which led up, presumably to the outside. The door to the outside had the tiniest window, which allowed a small sliver of light to shine through.
Miley approached the stairwell leading to the outside door. There was a trip wire strung across the first step. “I guess we know where she got her ideas for setting IEDs.” She stepped gingerly over the wire, treading carefully up each step. “That’s not good.”
“What is it?” he asked from the floor of the wine cellar.
“It appears to be a wire, rigged to the door. It is either attached to a bomb, or more likely, high voltage electricity.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because a bomb would level the house and destroy his wine collection. Fitz doesn’t collect wine, but if somebody destroyed his collection of high-end Scotch, heads would roll.”
Damon chuckled. “That sounds like Fitz.”
Miley grinned as she made her way carefully down the stairs. Once on the relatively safe floor, she looked at the stairwell. “I’m pretty sure the trip wire triggers an explosive device and that the one wrapped around the door knob is conducting high voltage electricity.”
“What do you say we take a look at the other door?” Damon said, heading toward the stairs that led up to the interior door. As with the last one, there was a trip wire on the first step and wire wrapped around the door handle. “This one’s no good either.”
“I can see that,” said Miley, shaking her head and pointing toward a small wire that ran along the exposed piping. “That’s not good, either.”
“Do you think he just meant for us to die, tied to that pole?”
“I don’t think that was his plan—that we stayed tied to the pole, but it does appear he meant to keep us locked away until we died. I don’t know. It just seems to me, he isn’t going to give up the wine.”
“Maybe he figured he’d wait until we die, bury us under the floor, and then go back to life as usual.”
