Placing a hand on the small of my back, he coaxes me inside first, but the room is pitch-black, and I can’t see a single thing.
Behind me, Gemini flicks the lights on, and I stifle a scream.
Taking a shaky step backward, I’m stopped by a hard chest.
Gemini’s hands curl around my arms as his breath fans over my cheek before he speaks. “Do you like them?” he rasps, his voice low and much darker than usual.
An unnerving shiver tingles up my nape. I’m still having trouble understanding what my eyes are seeing.
The space is much bigger than I expected, more like a windowless warehouse than a room in the middle of his house.
Rows and rows and rows of mannequins face us, all dressed in different outfits.
And they all … look like …me.
They resemble wax dolls more than mannequins. My features and likeness have been captured in the most unsettlingof ways; the only things missing are the tattoos covering most of my body.
I swallow hard, my heart beating at an alarming rate, but I try my hardest to stay calm and look unperturbed.
“How did you even have time to … do all of this?” I finally ask, relieved Gemini is still behind me and can’t see the horror in my eyes.
He chuckles, his mouth still close to my ear. My body breaks out in goose bumps.
“I told you, I never let you go.” He drags his nose down my neck, and my breath hitches. “It was just a matter of time before you were back where you belonged.”
“Which is?” I find myself asking, although I already know the answer. I clench my jaw, teeth gnashing together while I wait for him to respond.
Letting go of my arms, he circles to face me, his gaze hooded and predatory. “By my side.”
“Like your trophy?” I bite back.
“Precisely,” he drawls.
With a quick twist of his heels, he struts farther into the drafty room, hands clasped behind his back until he twirls back to face me. He snaps his fingers and points to the spot next to him. “Come stand here.”
My survival instincts are begging me to run, and my eyes flit to the open door.
Gemini catches my movement. “Don’t you dare, pet,” he says, carefully enunciating every word.
Fear tightens my throat, but I keep my head up as I slowly walk to where he’s pointing while trying my best to ignore the mannequins surrounding me.
He snaps his fingers again. “Clothes off.”
I balk at his words, and his eyes narrow menacingly. His smirk slowly tugs at his lips, as if he expects me to defy himagain. Instead, I match the intensity of his gaze and take off my clothes without any protest. There’s a small chill in the room, and I feel my nipples tightening into peaks. I keep my chin raised and my back straight, attempting to clutch on to the last of my dignity.
His chest rumbles with a pleased hum as I stand naked in front of him once again. The vulnerability of the act has not become easier, still as raw as last night. Except his gaze is a lot less clinical this time, as if he’s letting me see past the illusion, to the real him and his real intentions.
Tugging the measuring tape off his neck with a flick of the wrist, he circles around me. “What should I dress my doll up in today?” he says under his breath, holding up the tape to my shoulders and then the length of my arm.
I feel his fingers graze my body with every phony measurement he makes—it’s clearly all an act, as the clothes are ready to wear—and the realization of who has me captive sinks deeper and deeper into my skin.
Does he even see me as human?
I am but a shiny new toy for him to play with.
And what happens when he grows bored of me?
My stomach churns at the thought, but I try to regulate my breathing and keep a smooth expression on my face while Gemini continues to circle me like a starving vulture.
