Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
We pass an opulent Christmas tree adorned with a set of baubles in the classic red, gold, and green colors. Boxes wrapped in red tartan lay under it, adorned with massive silk bows, and I arch my neck to check if—yep, a big-ass fucking glittery star sits on top of the tree.
What. The. Fuck.
We go down a hallway, and when the light comes on in the next room, I stiffen at the sight of white tiles. Of course he’s not gonna kill me just like that. Why make cleanup difficult when a massive bathtub is right there!
I should be more scared, but the irony of my situation replaces raw fear with an odd mixture of amusement and anger. I can’t be certain of anything, and it’s breaking my mind as if it's a glass bauble hitting stone tiles.
He puts me down so fast I lose my balance.
He steadies me against the wall. “Sorry. I forgot what hanging with one’s head down can do to people.” He sounds apologetic, as if that is the biggest issue with his treatment of me!
And how does he even know what hanging upside down does? How many times has he done this? Maybe him appearing in my life has nothing to do with the murder of my family? After all, it would be just my luck to become the victim of one horrific crime, only to be abducted by a serial killer later in life. If the universe is to be in balance, someone has to be unlucky, so that someone else can win the lottery.
He looks into my eyes, and for a second I get a glimpse of the hazel softness I started falling for, but I now recognize Saint for the wolf he is, and I shall not be fooled again. “I will take the gag out, but don’t scream. There’s no one around. Not in the house, not in the forest. And don’t try to bite me. It won’t end well.”
Resigned, I lean against the wall and nod, ready to speak the moment he takes out the ball. “Please don’t eat me. Or if you have to, don’t cut off my leg, then keep me alive, eat the leg, and then cut off my other leg. If you have to eat me, just kill me quickly. Please.” I sniff as tears streak down my face once more.
The gag drops to the floor as Saint leans in, wiping away my tears. “What are you talking about?” His eyes are so soft, so gentle as he strokes my face that I sob even harder, unable to control my own body. It’s so pathetic. I am pathetic, and the worst thing is no matter what I say, my fate rests in his beautiful hands.
“Look, will you feel better if I uncuff you? I don’t even like pork very much, and I heard human meat is more intense. Not really the right flavor profile for me, if you catch my drift,” he adds, winking.
I don’t. I don’t know what he wants from me, but I’ll take any opportunity to survive this. “Please. I just… I’m… very confused,” I utter, trying to calm down and play his game as I glance around for potential weapons.
Saint inhales and opens his coat before placing it on a hanger meant for towels. He then pushes up the sleeves of his turtleneck and leans into the tub, first closing the drain and then starting the water.
“You need to calm down. My intentions are perfectly harmless—” He stalls, considering what he just said, and smiles at me. “Toward you, that is. I just want us to have a nice long chat.”
I don’t trust him for a second, but it does give me some hope. “Okay… I’ll try. I’ll listen,” I say even though my voice trembles.
The bubbling of the water becomes a constant whoosh in my ears as Saint leans down to remove the straps from around my legs. I could use this moment to my advantage. To maybe slide on top of him and then attempt slamming his head against the floor with my weight, but I’m under no illusion about the difference in our physical strength and prowess, especially when my hands are still cuffed back. So I calm my frantic mind and focus on breathing until the moment he unbuckles my belt, and then casually pulls down my fly.
I stare at him, wide-eyed as blood rushes to my head, setting even my ears on fire. “You… what? What are you doing?” I whimper in panic, but my messy brain reminds me of how he pushed me against the corridor wall last night, and how hard I came with his fingers wrapped around my dick.
This is wrong. So wrong.
Yet I don’t move as he shoves my pants down and kneels to help me out of my boots. It’s a bizarre situation, yet I fear any wrong move might shatter the frail truce we’ve established.