Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
My initial shock and confusion quickly turn to fury. I moved from one fucking cage to another. Only this one is a literal goddamn cage! My heart speeds with anger, and my blood rushes in my ears.
I ball my fists and turn onto my knees slowly, barely making a sound and taking in my surroundings. I’m surprised by my rage; I’m not used to it. At least not used to it showing on the surface. It’s a constant, but it’s generally buried under the fear and need to display obedience.
My eyes widen when I look forward and realize the door to the cage is open.
I blink several times and even creep out slightly, but not very far at all. My hand reaches out, half expecting the door to slam shut, but it doesn’t. How… odd.
As I move, a thin blanket that I was balled up in slips down my back and to my waist, exposing my chest to the cooler air. It’s only then that I realize I’m naked, the breath stolen from my lungs. It looks like someone has neatly folded my clothes from earlier though, and they're sitting in a corner of the cage. I move to check my bra, and inwardly let out a sigh of relief when I see the baggie is still concealed in the padding.
I grip the blanket tighter around me, sitting on my knees. I take in a ragged breath and let a hand drift down to my sex. Did they hurt me? I don't feel any different. I don’t think they touched me. Shame floods my cheeks.
I wish I’d run faster. If only I’d walked the other way. Maybe they wouldn’t have been waiting. Maybe I could have gotten away. A lump grows in my throat, but I calm myself. Ifs are useless. They make me weak to dwell on them. I raise my head and focus on what’s in front of me. I’m here now, and I need to figure out why and how to get the fuck out.
The grate on the floor makes my knees hurt, but I withstand the slight pain and look around the empty room. That’s all it is. There isn't much I can see beyond this cage, which is large enough for me to stand, but only has a few square feet to move around in. There’s a doorway, although it looks like the door has been removed, on the far side and then another door to my right.
Anxiety fills my blood.
Is this a game? Choose one door and what? I’m afraid to know.
It looks like the open doorway leads to a bathroom. It looks stripped and bare, but it’s there. I imagine it’s functional.
I don’t dare leave the cage as I consider what the Romanos want from me. I slowly back deeper into the cage and nearly scream when my back hits a bucket. It’s empty and it makes the only sound in the room other than my own voice. It scared the shit out of me. I’m quick to cover my mouth and silence the shrill scream that threatened to surface. It was only a squeak of what it would’ve been.
As my heart finally calms and the stupidity of my action weighs in my mind, I hear a faint beep from the door to my right and then a click.
Someone’s here. Goosebumps prickle down my body as I clutch the thin blanket closer to me and back into the far corner of the cage, the farthest I can get away, kicking the empty bucket to the front. Right now my options are limited. There’s not much I can do at all. But I’ll bite, kick and scratch whoever’s coming in here. I won’t let them get away with this.
They took my chance at freedom. They better give it back.
The door slowly opens as I wait with bated breath.
I see a tray first. It’s silver, and sitting on top is a small, dark blue plastic cup as well as something else. It’s balanced in his massive hand as the man enters. My heartbeat slows as the door clicks shut and he turns, facing me with piercing blue eyes. They're almost like ice. His gaze freezes my heart and my rage, anger, and confusion all vanish. In their place is lust.
His corded muscles ripple as he walks toward me with confidence and an air of authority. His presence alone makes my heart stop. The way he carries himself makes it obvious that he’s the epitome of power and control. It terrifies me while it also does something else. It ignites a fire in me that I didn’t know existed. It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous.
His bright white shirt is pulled tight over his shoulders, and his faded jeans are hung low on his hips. So low that I catch a glimpse of the deep muscular “V” at his lower abdomen as he walks, and my lips part with a hunger to see more.