Page 8 of Wreck and Ruin
She's brought me water, two bottles to be exact, and she bends down beside me, lining them up so they're within my reach. It's dangerous for her to get this close to me. I could wrap my arms around her neck and choke her out with the chains she's shackled me to.
If I could just lift my arms.
I watch her, perplexed, as she runs out of the cave, only to return a few minutes later with two rusted metal buckets, one filled with water splashing everywhere as she carries it inside, the other empty. She sets them down on my left within arm's reach.
Oh great, she's building me a fucking bathroom.
I know how these things go. I've been in this position before. It feels like a lifetime ago, and like it was just yesterday all at the same time. And I’ve done a great job forgetting about that part of my life until now, bound to rusted chains without so much as a blanket. And with the raging storm outside, it’s fucking freezing in here. I’d be lying if I said that all that water smashing against the rocks doesn't make me feel slightly unsettled. How far away are those waves? They sound pretty damn close to me.
Perhaps I’ll drown after all.
I squint my eyes and turn in the direction of the woman. We’re swallowed in darkness now, but it’s still light enough that I can make out the outline of her petite frame. She’s just standing there, silent and unmoving. Odd.She hasn’t uttered a single word this entire time, and usually, in situations like these, when someone holds you against your will, they’d have said enough for me to at least figure out their motives by now. On the other hand, silence is the most powerful weapon you can wield, especially in my world, and given her small stature, she will need to rely on every trick in the book to gain any sort of an edge on a man like me.
Tilting my head, I strain to listen for others because surely she’s not here alone. It’s pointless. I can’t hear a damn thing, no thanks to the chaos on the other side of this cave. Am I half delirious? Yes. But I’m going to have to push all that aside because I need to hurry this along. I can’t stay locked in a fucking cave. I just can’t.
I open my mouth to speak, but my words vanish when she closes the distance between us. I stiffen. The lack of lighting is a problem, so I focus on my other senses as much as my circumstances allow. I didn’t notice any weapons on her earlier when I checked her over, but in my condition, with my body broken like this, all it would take is for her to breathe near my ribs, and I’d be putty in her hands. Hers for the taking.
Prepare yourself for anything, Ezekiel.
I compartmentalize my pain, shoving it inside a little room in a corner of my mind and ignoring it. I straighten. My fists clench on instinct as her shadow hovers at my side.
I say nothing.
Two can play that game.
I jump when a slight tug on my shirt pulls at my wounds, and it takes everything I have to keep that room in my mind locked down tight. Her fingertips lightly brush the bare skin of my torso, and I realize she’s waiting for permission to remove my shirt. I don’t like how close she is, not while I’m borderline defenseless. I’m surprised that she seems non-hostile, considering she dragged me through what felt like the depths of Hell and chained me to a fucking wall. I’m guessing she did more for her own protection than anything else if her demeanor is anything to go on. Still, I don't fucking trust her.
When I don’t respond to her touches, she taps my arm again, like a child silently asking an adult for ice cream. Against my better judgment, I relax my posture. Maybe a softer approach will get her talking. I can’t envision many others visiting here, whereverhereis, so she probably isn't used to having guests. She must notice my tension shift because she moves from my side and crouches before me. She lifts my shirt, and my vision blurs in an instant, my breath shaky behind my teeth, now clenched, as the fabric pulls hard against my wounds. She immediately removes her hands, dropping my shirt.
Is she trying to help me or hurt me?
A moment passes, and I decide to throw her a bone. If not for anything, then to save myself the fucking trouble of blacking out from whatever pain that may be coming for me tonight. I’m exhausted and haven’t even begun to process The Royal, let alone being stranded in a cave somewhere.
“It has buttons. My shirt. It has buttons,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Each strained word is an effort to breathe out as the skin that covers my ribs throbs in agony. A searing burn sweeps across my entire body, and I fight to keep my reactions stifled, though I am fully aware of the shit job that I’m doing.
A whimper falls from my lips, and fuck if it isn’t embarrassing. Pain is a weakness that I can’t afford right now, and I can’t say I’m a fan of feeling vulnerable, especially in the hands of someone else. I’m exposed for the first time in a long, long time and I blame it all on these stupid chains.
She moves in even closer, hovering in front of my face, parts of her features mere shadows. I stare into her eyes and hold her gaze, not looking away from them as I remember that she’s naked.I’m a jackass.I dared to feel exposed when she hasn’t got a single stitch of clothing on. Although, I’ve got to say she seems pretty unbothered by it.
At a pace slower than a fucking tortoise, I raise my hands to undo the buttons myself, the chains rattling with each movement, and I fight back vomit with each rattle. I make it as far as the third button before she gently swats my hands away and takes over. She fumbles a little, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s never undone a button before.
Strange.
Once she reaches the last button, she removes half of my shirt, and, with a featherlight touch, dances her fingertips across my chest. I assume, by the way she touches me, pressing at my skin, that there’s blood. Of course there’s fucking blood. She dragged me by the hands over cliff-rocks that might as well have been butcher knives. I’ve had my ribs broken about a dozen or so times before, and each time, I swear the pain gets worse. I wince as she scrapes my skin, biting down on my tongue to stop myself from crying out, and a slight gasp from her lips tells me that my broken ribs are the least of my problems.
Don’t I know it.
She starts tending to my wounds and my eyes start to blur from the exhaustion and pain as it overwhelms my cold, trembling body. My tongue is still caught between my teeth to prevent me from screaming, but it’s the blood filling my mouth and trickling down the sides of my face that stops me. I try to focus on something else—a distraction. The slither of dim light seeping through the entrance before me, the silvery hues that blend with the surrounding shadows, the redhead, a siren in the dark, my captor, until everything fades to black.
Chapter7
AIRLIE
Igaze down at my stranger.
His features are shrouded, but not so much that I fail to notice the blood staining his chiseled jaw. He’s been in and out of consciousness for a little while now, finally losing the battle with sleep after I cleaned and wrapped his injuries.
