My lips were so dry now that they’d split open in several places like tiny paper cuts. I was cold despite the warmth in the room as I stood na**d for hours. I listened for doors opening and footsteps constantly. It became so surreal that every few seconds, I swore I heard footsteps, yet it was nothing.
My imagination ran away with me, and I couldn’t get it back under control. Images of being left here for days on end. Starving and alone. I never thought being alone would be so hard to endure, but the silence was like a knife being dragged across my skin. The fear of not knowing. The waiting. Unsure for how long I’d be left here.
I stood hanging by my arms, my tiptoes barely holding me up. Agony ate its way through my muscles as I shook uncontrollably.
Then, finally ... footsteps.
Voices.
The door opened, and I gasped, choking back the sobs. My chest heaved with relief and yet ... uncertainty. I knew I wasn’t supposed to cry, and if I did he may leave me here longer.
Voices closed in on me.
Logan’s and someone else’s. The footsteps drew closer, and I tensed, waiting for the pain or a caress. I didn’t know which. I couldn’t. My body was so distressed with the frantic worry that I was sweating. I took deep breaths like Logan had taught me in self-defence to control my fear.
But that was what he wanted—fear. Well, he had it. I was living in an ocean of it.
The familiar scent of Raul drifted into me, and my nerves sparked.
Please. No. Don’t let him take me.
I’d do anything, absolutely anything so that Raul didn’t take me.
“I will not tolerate her behavior in my house, Sculpt. Some of the men asked me why I hadn’t killed her for the disrespect.”
“I know how you operate, Raul,” Logan replied.
Raul’s hand traced up over my breast, rough calloused hands far different than Logan’s. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood in my mouth. “Trust is earned, Sculpt. You must earn that. As must she.” His fingers gripped my chin. “She is very beautiful. When you tire of her, she’ll make a good amount on auction.”
“I suspect she will. But for now, she is mine. Aren’t you, Emily?”
Never. Never again. “Yes.” I knew my voice was trembling. Logan, God, don’t do this to me. Even though I couldn’t see, I felt Logan tense. It was like the air stopped for a brief second as the room went silent.
“If you lose the fight, she’ll be sold.”
“I won’t lose.”
Raul’s finger slipped across my dry lips, and I knew what I was supposed to do. I didn’t want to do it, and my stomach churned violently at the thought of what I had to do. But I did. I couldn’t face that room downstairs again. Not now. I didn’t know if I ever could again. I slipped my tongue out and licked it then drew it into my mouth.
Raul chuckled. “Better.” He let me suckle on it for a few seconds then withdrew.
My heart was pounding so hard, I swore they could hear it. The tears sat in the rims of my eyes, teetering like a ball on a ledge. I clenched my fingers into fists, nails digging into my palm, trying desperately to focus on anything but what was happening.
I was glad I was blindfolded. It may have kept the fear alive of the unknown, but it also saved me from seeing Raul. Of looking into his narrowed eyes as I sucked his finger. I’d have never been able to force myself to do it if I’d been able to see his face. Had Logan known that? Was there a reason to him keeping me blindfolded? No. I had to stop fantasizing Logan was in any way helping me.
“You’re a lot like me, Sculpt,” Raul said. “Determined. Resilient. And I see that merciless confidence when you fight.”
“I’m nothing like you, Raul,” Logan replied. “I have what you don’t, and that is patience.”
Raul laughed. “Ahh, you know me well. Yes, that is true. I’m not a patient man.” Footsteps shifted, and the hardwood floor creaked. “She makes one mistake, and she leaves. I won’t have disobedience in my home—ever. You should know that, Sculpt.”
The door opened and closed then I heard a key turn in the lock. Silence. They’d both left. The sobs choked me as I broke into a thousand fragments. Why did he hate me so much to do this to me? What had I done wrong? Why me?
The blindfold was soaked by my tears. The pain had gone ... No, it was there; my mind had faded it out in order to survive. What remained was weakness. That was how I felt. Too tired to fight. Afraid to fight.
And God yes ... I wanted to be loved by him again. For him to hold me in his arms and take this nightmare away.
Did I really think that? How could my mind even contemplate loving him after what he’s put me through? But I did. I couldn’t control it. He’d swept me up and taken possession of my heart, even though he was now ripping it to shreds.
But I wanted Logan to save me.
I wanted the man I fell in love with to carry me away from this place.
And I wanted him to carry me away ... and then ... then I wanted to kill him.
The door opened a while later. I was half-aware of Logan’s hands on my wrists as he undid the ropes and the blindfold. I was too weak and tired to do anything except fall into his arms.
He picked me up and carried me to a bed and then pulled a white silk nightgown over my head. I thought I heard him whisper something to me as he laid me down, but the pain in my body overrode his useless words as my body screamed with agony.
He walked away then came back, and the mattress sagged as he sat beside me. He took my right hand first, gently washed it with warm water then applied cream to my burned-raw skin. He slowly massaged my cold, numb fingers then repeated the process with my other wrist and hand. I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted. It felt good, and yet I wanted the pain as a reminder of what he’d done to me.