Captive Souls Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

Advertisement2

Although I didn’t see the signs of addiction in him. That didn’t mean much; addicts were experts at lying, hiding their true selves.

But Knox wasn’t hiding his true self. He was showing what a monster he was without shame, regret. He wanted me to see it. Be scared.

And though I was plenty scared, I couldn’t give in to that fear. This was only the beginning, after all. This was a month of living with the devil, and I was going to use it as training to survive being married to whatever Stone was.

Training to end him.

Because I’d figured there was truly no escape. Nothing that wouldn’t risk my sister. I’d let him think Knox broke me. And while I was here, I’d watch Knox. His cruelty, brutality, hoping it would rub off on me. It basically leached from his skin, so it should.

And most importantly, I would ignore any and all attraction I had to the man. It must’ve been some kind of mirage, some trickster magic of the Appalachian woods that had me feeling it.

I was definitely not attracted to him.

No.

I was fascinated by him. Because on the surface, he seemed like my destruction, but if I played things right, he might just be my salvation.

He’d teach me to be the villain I’d need to be.

Because I was beginning to understand that life wasn’t like my books. A woman didn’t need to slay dragons nor ride them. No, she needed to become a dragon, breathe fire on all men who considered her conquerable.

One Day Later

I didn’t see Knox for the entirety of the day after our … altercation, if that’s what you’d call it. I’d hidden inside the cabin, bracing for him to come in the door, hurt me … or make good on that shadow of prurience I’d told myself I had imagined.

I’d shuffled and dealt my cards, the spread changing except one Tarot card.

The Devil.

It came time after time.

It was too weird, even for me.

The Devil card was, granted, a misunderstood card. It didn’t hold its roots in the classic religious connotations of the term. Not to me anyway.

The Devil represented a darker side of us all, one we rarely brought to light, one we ignored, shunned or reviled. It was the ugly little voice in our heads saying jealous things, self-deprecating things, or wanting things that were deplorable. Destructive.

It warned against taking the path of instant gratification because it was often the path of destruction.

Even without a Tarot card, I understood that giving in to any kind of carnal desire I felt for Knox would lead me to ruin.

And yet…

I’d always felt an affinity for that card. Especially given the battles I’d fought in the past. It had brought shadows to light, understanding them so I could release their hold.

The Devil was also about sexuality. About being unashamed about cravings that society scorned or shunned—providing everything was consensual and everyone was of age. But again, this card represented how exploring such things was walking on a narrow path. If not with someone safe and respectful, pain and devastation would ensue.

Again, this was all too chilling and much too accurate for my situation, even for me. Rattled, I’d buried the cards in my bag then stared at the wall until I couldn’t stare anymore.

I was not a person to sit idle. So I’d tidied. Cleaned. Straightened up the rustic cabin as best I could.

The furnishings were sparse, linens mostly threadbare, but the table was made of solid wood, the rug covering smooth wooden floors. In the tiny linen cabinet I’d discovered old lace curtains that had once hung on the windows. This place had fallen into disrepair, but it was built well, to withstand. And small touches like the lace curtains, the fading paint on the shutters, the rugs, the overgrown garden, told me that at one point, people had lived here and been proud to call it home.

Now this was little more than a cage. But I could rectify that. Turn it into something a little better, do the previous owners a favor. I was relieved to have a task, to do something other than gaze at the door, waiting for Knox to return.

When Knox finally came in, I instantly retreated to the bathroom, telling myself I was there to clean it, not escape him. I mentally said that as I scrubbed behind the toilet with an old toothbrush I found in the back of the cabinet.

When I emerged, he was once again cooking, the telltale smell of meat wafting through the cabin. Disgusted, I’d pursed my lips, stomped into the cabin to snatch a piece of quickly staling bread, careful not to look at him before retreating outside to eat before going to bed.

I didn’t fall asleep for a long time. Couldn’t. Not with him there. It was barely possible to breathe through the thick air.


Advertisement3

Advertisement4