Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Everything inside him itched to call out to Taron and make an attempt at conversation, but then he remembered how much it hurt when he’d been punched in the face, and that he lived in a cage, not on an unusual bed, so he pulled the blanket over himself, facing the wall instead.
Still, each heavy footstep echoed along his spine and made his heart heavier, his throat tighter, until all he could do was lie still, hoping the loneliness wouldn’t triumph over pride.
In the time he’d been down here, there had been no other visitors, so unless Taron was going somewhere to meet people, he had no friends. It wasn’t all that surprising, considering his attitude, but made Colin’s situation even more perilous. Why did Taron live here? Did he hate his family? Did he have any family? Did he choose a remote location to hunt for men who he’d keep for his pleasure?
The clack of a plate put down on the floor was by now engraved inside Colin, but he pretended to remain ignorant of its presence, waiting for the relief of the heavy footsteps fading as Taron made his way up the stairs. But like many times before, Taron lingered without trying to initiate contact, and the distinct sense of being watched was like tiny needles gradually pushing under the skin at the back of Colin’s neck.
Taron knocked on the floor to get his attention, but Colin was having none of that and slid the blanket over his head. He would only eat once Taron was gone. When he felt a gentle pull on the fabric, he cocooned himself inside of it, curling his knees to his chest for good measure. He didn’t need Taron’s presence. Or his dick.
If anything, Taron needed, Colin because he was a sad, friendless, sexless, murderous fuck.
“Co-lin…”
It took Colin a few seconds to realize that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him and that he had heard his name spoken in a deep, whisper-like grunt, which sounded like a call from another planet.
He wanted to ignore it, but the temptation was like a physical presence on his shoulder, and he found himself rolling to his stomach to glance at Taron behind the bars.
Taron sighed loudly, and presented Colin with a stack of books. On top of it lay The Girl in the Last Train Car by Anasstasiya Lucas. His book. Then Taron smiled at him and put that one on the floor, revealing the next book in the stack. A Mirror Image, also by Anasstasiya Lucas. The new book he’d been waiting for despite not even having read the previous one. It was a brand new shiny hardback too. How did Taron—?
Of course. He’d gone through Colin’s bag.
More importantly though, the fucker did speak?
He swallowed, staring at the plate, which had a fancy-looking spiral made of carrot for decoration. What the hell did all this mean? “What are we celebrating? Captivity day 21?”
Taron groaned and sat on the floor behind the books and the plate, as if he knew he should keep his distance. With his heavy boots, biceps like boulders and the hunting knife at his belt, he didn’t look any less menacing.
“I can see. You even spoke right now.”
Colin crossed his arms. “I’ve got time.”
They stared at each other for what felt like ages, but then Taron got up, grabbed a pen and a notebook, and started scribbling furiously once he sat back. Colin liked his food warm, so he reluctantly decided to eat in the meanwhile.
Once Taron was done, he ripped out the page and passed it to Colin.
* * *
I had surgery as a kid. Some nerves were damaged, so my vocal cords are partially paralyzed. It’s unpleasant to make myself speak, and it sounds like I’m a swamp monster, but I can whisper if I have to.
* * *
Colin smiled at that last bit. Taron’s voice did sound unusual, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he described. “I’m impressed. You’re becoming more and more of a social butterfly,” he said, chewing on the spiralized carrot.
Taron groaned.
Colin hesitated, but no matter how shitty the whole situation was, Taron was trying to start a dialogue, so he decided to once again ask one of his most pressing questions. “No? Then why do you have the cage?”
Taron punched the floor, making Colin jump and barely miss the roof of his prison with his head. He started signing, making sure Colin understood as he went along.
Oookay. Colin enjoyed a bit of Science Fiction as much as the next guy, hence he’d been looking forward to the next big superhero flick, but perhaps Taron actually thought he lived in another reality?