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What is this about this woman?
I part my lips, about to maybe try and find a way to discuss this with Emma, but I don’t get any words out.
She’s snoring lightly.
Satisfied and asleep.
Maybe I should worry about this, but I don’t. Instead it brings a smile to my face to know that she’s okay. To know that she’s happy.
If it wasn’t for the irritating bleeping sound from my phone, I don’t think I’d move.
I like being underneath Emma, holding onto her, making her feel special for as long as I can.
But we could be in trouble here, and I need to keep on top of everything.
If something is about to happen, then I have to be aware of it.
That’s the only way I can keep me and Emma alive.
So I slip out gently from underneath her and I find my cell phone, to see who the message is from.
My heart skips a beat as I see the name on my screen.
Samantha.
She has a lead on Hudson.
It is on.
SEVEN
EMMA
What the hell is wrong with me?
I barely recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror.
Something happened last night, something changed me, and I don’t know how to explain it. Even to myself.
The closest I keep coming is Stockholm Syndrome.
It must be something like that because no normal person would let their kidnapper fuck them like that and enjoy it.
And my God, did I enjoy it!
It was out of this world.
I’ve never felt anything like that before. That’s why I don’t know who I am anymore. That’s why I’m questioning my sanity. Especially as I run my fingers all over my bruises.
Do they hurt?
I don’t even know.
Kinda, but all I can really recall as I look at them is the phenomenal explosions of pleasure I felt in my body last night. I was like a volcano and the lava of pleasure that wouldn’t stop erupting. I can almost still feel the burning hot bliss shuddering through me right now.
My finger finds my lip, which has a definite imprint on it. I mean, that makes sense. Owen did draw blood last night. But again, I liked it.
“He’s old,” I whisper to myself in the mirror. “What is wrong with you?”
