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“Goodnight, Rain,” Geoffrey says, giving me a little wave. “Remember what I said.”
“What the fuck did you say?” Clunk snarls, sounding defensive and uncertain.
“I told her to behave herself, you raging bull man. If you’d let me medicate you for that anger we wouldn’t all be fearful for our lives around you.”
Clunk slams the door after me and shoves me forward.
We ascend the stairs, passing a door that I know leads to near where I’ve been kept captive. I start to panic, wondering if he’s going to hurt me like the men did last night.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Why are you not taking me to my room?”
“The captain wants ya.” He gives me another shove. “You don’t move I’m tossing you overboard. Don’t have time to be babysitting.”
That has me picking up the pace but it’s easier said than done because the floor is rough on my feet even through the paper covers.
“What does he want with me?”
“The fuck you think?”
“Wait… please… just take me back to my room.”
He sighs and grabs my arm, yanking me along as though I weigh nothing which to him I probably do. “Like I said, don’t have time.”
We move towards the stairs leading to the bridge but enter the heavy door by it. I spy two doors opposite one another, both say Captain on them engraved in gold plaques.
I’m tugged towards the left and he hits the metal with the side of his fist before opening the door and shoving me inside.
“Wait,” I beg, turning, but he closes the door after me, plunging me into darkness.
Only moonlight filters in through small windows and shows a large space with soft rugs and a large dining table. I try to make out the art that lines the walls in heavy frames but the light doesn’t allow it.
I’m alone again, in a room that looks like it should be a living room but feels void of life and homeliness.
What now?
I stand on the closest black rug and relish the soft feeling of it beneath my sore feet.
“Come here,” the captain calls through a thinner door opposite. Light escapes the edges just enough for me to make it out in the dark. “Now.” I don’t move. “If I have to stop what I’m doing to get you I’ll be annoyed.”
Closing my eyes and inhaling for any amount of bravery I pad towards the door and tug on the handle until it opens.
Warm orange light warms me, bouncing off the white of my jacket as I look down.
“Close the door,” he instructs, his tone harsh.
I do so, looking around carefully, spying a large, king-size bed with heavy green duvets and thick-looking pillows. There are books in closed shelves around the walls. Lights are fixed into the wall that have been switched off so the only light comes from the faux fireplace.
“Eighty-seven,” he grunts aloud, his voice sounds strained. “Eighty-eight.”
I find him carefully and my heart stops for a moment. The sheer power of his muscles in this light as he hangs upside down from a metal bar by his feet and pulls his shoulders towards his knees with his arms crossed at his chest.
“Ninety.”
I missed a few in my stupor.
The orange lighting shows the curve of every muscle hidden beneath tanned, smooth, tattooed skin. I’ve never felt so tiny and insignificant in comparison to another person before.
Beads of sweat trickle along his abdomen, catching in the light hair on his sternum. Some escape and move to his neck as he continues to work his abs as though I’m not here.
“One hundred.” With a loud cry he folds his body upwards, grabs the bar with one hand and slowly lowers his feet like a trained gymnast. When he drops I feel the earth shake and press my back against the door.
“You look ridiculous,” he comments. “What are you wearing?”
“Anything I can,” I reply, keeping my eyes on his knees as he wipes his face on a towel.
“You’re prettier than I expected.”
Did he not know who he was kidnapping? Does he even have the right person?
Does it make me an awful person to hope he did and he’ll get them instead?
“Sorry?”
I hear the smile in his voice when he changes the subject. “Why won’t you look at me?”
I gulp but stay silent and keep my eyes down.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
He takes a wide step towards me. I try to melt into the door but science won’t allow it. “You’re to sleep here tonight.”
“Sorry?”
“Apology accepted.”
I look at him with wide eyes and immediately wish I hadn’t. The topping is just as good as the cake below.
His hair is mahogany, I can see a glimpse of it above his ears, peeking out from under the black bandana. He has dark, striking brows above the purest green eyes I have ever seen. They’re like leaves at the beginning of spring. The flickering flames reflect a dangerous glower in them that has me shrinking away, fighting to pull my eyes free. They finally find a new path along a thick scar that spans from the inner corner of his eye, where the bridge of his nose meets his brow, to his cheekbone. It in no way mars the dangerously sinful beauty of his face and only makes me more alluring.
