Page 119 of Whispers and Wildfire
“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what? That—”
He placed a fingertip on my lips, cutting me off. “You’re mine, which means I take care of you.” He clasped my hand and tugged me toward the bedroom. “Let’s go. Bedtime, princess.”
“Believe it or not, sex doesn’t solve all of a woman’s problems.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” He paused and glanced at me. “Although if you start something, I’m certainly not saying no.”
“It’s the middle of the night. If you’re not here for sex, why are you here?”
He led me into my bedroom and shut the door. “To help you sleep. I figured it might be easier if you’re not alone.”
I stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He was serious. I hadn’t even told him I was having trouble sleeping. He just knew. And he was going to do what he could to fix it.
“Really?” I asked, my voice quiet.
“Of course. Look, I know you don’t like to admit when something is hard, so you don’t have to. And if you want to kick me out, I’ll go.”
“No, don’t go.”
He smiled and stripped down to his boxer briefs. We got into bed, and he slipped an arm around my waist, drawing my back to his front.
The warmth of his embrace and feel of his slow breathing were like magic, unraveling the tension in my body. My eyes were heavy, so I let them close.
And for the first time in days, I felt safe.
Soon
ROSWELL MILLS
The acrid scentof bleach permeated the air in the basement as I walked down the steps. The mattress was empty, the chains I’d attached to the wall hanging loose. I paused, holding the freshly washed fitted sheet, and remembered.
She’d looked good, lying there with her wrists chained to the wall. Not as good as Melanie was going to, but I’d enjoyed it more than I’d thought I would.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t behaved.
Neither had the first.
The drunk one had been a disaster, vomiting all over the place when she finally woke up. I’d been angry with her from the beginning. Despite my attempts to coax her into calming down and sipping water, she’d done nothing but sob and complain.
I’d hated her. The bruises I’d given her were her fault. If she’d done what I said and calmed down, I wouldn’t have had to lay a hand on her.
Still, she hadn’t been a total waste of time. Taking her had given me what I’d been after in the first place—a practice run.
I’d learned that I needed to keep cleaning supplies on hand. I didn’t want it to stink down there. More importantly, I’d learned the basement was quite soundproof. I’d left the first one to scream, and with the door shut, the noise was muffled upstairs. Nothing could be heard outside unless you went to the back of the cabin.
Pleased with my first rehearsal, I’d drugged her again and dumped her in the woods, far from my hideaway.
I was confident no one would find me. She never saw my face, and she’d been drugged when I brought her into the cabin and when I took her out. As hysterical as she’d been, I doubted her story would be coherent enough to give them anything.
The second one had been better. She looked more like Melanie, which I’d liked. I’d been able to watch her and imagine it was real. I’d enjoyed the way she looked so much, unconscious and chained to the wall, that I’d gotten off on it.
That added layer of pleasure had been surprisingly intoxicating without the guilt I felt when I’d been with the whore. Melanie wouldn’t mind, and it didn’t require me to touch an unworthy substitute.
She’d even answered to Melanie when I’d told her to. I’d liked that too, although her voice had been a weak whimper. She’d been sniveling and afraid.
