4. WYNTER

4

WYNTER

F or once, my dreams are pleasant.

Heat wraps around me, giving my body the comfort it craves so desperately.

I’ve been so used to the cold and I want more of this warmth. I try to reach out for it, but I’m not sure if I’m even in my body, everything feels so distant in this darkness.

There are odd sounds around me. Harsh whispers that turn into shouts. Loud bangs that echo in my head.

Am I in hell ?

That’s a blow. I never considered myself a bad person. I’ve always done my best to survive and give Summer the best life I could.

All I can hope is that Charlie is still looking after her or if she’s been put into the system then a good family has taken her in.

With those hopes in my mind, I let myself drift further away until the heat makes every worry disappear.

What feels like a second later, my eyes open.

I quickly sit up and immediately feel that the bed beneath me is new. It’s definitely not the thin creaky frame with the even thinner scratchy mattress I’ve been sleeping on in my prison. These sheets are black silk and they’re on the softest mattress I’ve ever felt.

The rest of the room is just as fancy, decorated in black with splashes of red, and silver fixtures.

It’s elegant, but also kind of creepy. Like some gothic sex lair.

Is this his room? It seems so out of place from what I saw of the rest of the house.

Across the room, heavy black curtains are pulled shut, but a small slither of daylight creeps in around the edges.

After a quick glance around to make sure I really am alone I rush to the window and pull the curtains open. The light burns my eyes, but I don’t care. I’ve not felt the sun in so long.

When my eyes start to adjust, I see the grounds of the house outside. I’m up on what looks like the third floor from the height of the drop below. A light gravel walkway circles the house and beyond that is a wide yard then nothing but trees.

The few glimpses I had of outside were so different from this.

I’m somewhere new.

Guess the first guy gave me away when his plans didn’t come to fruition.

I try the window latch and to my surprise, it opens. It’s too high to jump from here unless I plan to end it all. That’s not what I want right now. All I want is to breathe.

Taking a deep breath, I let myself taste the fresh air. The trees. The grass. It’s all so brand new like I’ve never been outside before.

It adds a refreshing chill to my still naked body, bringing my nerves to life. I’m sure in the daylight my bruises stand out even more. I can’t bring myself to look down at myself. My body brings me nothing but shame now.

Spotting a white button-up shirt that’s been tossed onto a large chair in the corner, I decide to put it on. It’s better than nothing.

As soon as I slip into it I’m hit by a familiar smell. Spice . Heat .

I'm not sure where I recognize it from, but it makes my heart ache for something I wasn’t aware I was missing.

Part of me wants to rip the shirt off and toss it aside along with whatever odd feelings it’s stirring in me, but I want to be naked even less. It’s oddly comforting to have a scrap of clothing again. I could find more to wear, but I’m nervous enough with just this on. I’ve not been given permission to wear it after all.

I don’t know how much longer I have alone or if I’m being watched. Searching the room, I don't find much to help me figure anything out. There's makeup and jewelry on the dresser and expensive clothes in the walk-in closet. The only thing I find that I could maybe make use of is some rope in a drawer. There’s a lot of it. Bundles of black, and red. All neatly tied off and lined up.

Clutching one of them to my chest, I head for the door. Locked. Of course it is. Why did I expect any different?

Lucky for me this room has an actual bathroom attached to it. I’d been using a bucket in my old cell so I may as well make use of the facilities here in case I’m thrown back into the dark ages.

When I step into the room my feet are warmed by the heated tiles and it takes away some of the ache from the constant cold exposure.

Just like the bedroom, everything in here is sparkling black and silver. The shower is all open space with a huge square rainfall shower built into the ceiling. It looks big enough for two or three people to comfortably stand underneath.

On the other side of the room is an actual clawfoot tub. I’ve only ever seen them in movies.

Everything smells clean and fresh, there’s not a hint of dust or mildew anywhere. It’s all so enticing and I can’t help but feel in awe. I’ve fallen into the lap of luxury. Maybe I could actually get used to this place. It’s better than a dank cellar with a makeshift prison built inside.

This feels like I actually have a chance of getting out one day. I don’t feel like I’m destined to die in the dark.

How depressing is that? My life is so bad that being put in a fancy room by my captor makes me feel hopeful.

My body aches for a hot bath or a shower, but getting caught like that is the last thing I need. I should figure out who has me first. Find out what makes him tick and what he wants.

I never got much of a chance of that with the other guy, what with being drugged anytime he wanted me. When I first woke up there, he came down to inspect me along with a doctor. They never spoke to me, just at me. I was treated like an unruly dog. Manhandled and pinned down or drugged when I wouldn’t cooperate.

As I make use of the bathroom I can feel the evidence of what was done to me between my legs.

Grabbing a washcloth, I lather it in soap before running it under hot water. It scalds my skin, but the pain feels good like I’m burning everything away.

Once I’m as clean as can be, I’m not sure what to do with myself so I pace the room, one eye on the door the entire time. I don’t think I can handle another beating when it opens.

I’m so tired and my stomach hurts from not eating in so long.

By nightfall, I’m still left alone. The anxiety of why I’m here is starting to gnaw away at my resolve.

I still have the rope I found earlier and I keep it held tightly in my hands in case I get the chance to strangle my captor with it.

Eventually, my legs ache so much that I have to rest. I can’t bring myself to lie in a stranger's bed. Being found in it would be an open invitation for them to do what they want.

The closet feels more like home anyway. Like my little prison that kept me safe until it was time for the monsters to come for me again.

I try so hard to stay awake, but I’m so exhausted that I can’t keep my head up and I end up passing out in the corner.

There’s a change in the air when I wake up. I’m no longer in the closet, I’m back in the soft bed I found myself in earlier. But I’m no longer alone.

I’ve grown so used to my own company that when there’s someone else in the room I just know.

Peeking one eye open I see the curtains are closed and there’s a lamp on somewhere in the room so I’m not in the dark.

I feel around on the sheets for the rope, but can’t find it.

“Why sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly good bed?” A smooth-as-silk voice speaks from across the room and my whole body goes rigid. “Maybe I should have tied you up so you couldn’t get out of it? Seems like that’s what you wanted since you were cuddling up to my rope so nicely.”

At that, I sit up and look for the source of the voice. A man sits in the chair in the corner of the room like he owns the place. I can only assume he does.

Elegant is the first word that comes to my mind when I see him. The second is dangerous .

He’s dressed all in black. His face is cast in shadows from where the light only just reaches him. Green eyes stare at me from above a prominent nose and defined cheekbones. He’s an immaculate sculpture of a man. So good looking in fact that I question if he’s even real. Has my mind conjured up some god of a man to save me?

As my gaze travels south I see the bundle of rope is now on his lap.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I suppose it is safer to wait to hear what he wants before I start running my mouth.

He cocks his head as he looks at me, his long black hair falling forward over his shoulders while his eyes run down my front, over the shirt I’m wearing. I swear I see approval in his gaze. My heart picks up speed to a frantic pace that makes it pound painfully against my chest.

“Can you speak?” He frowns, his gloomy eyes suddenly looking darker.

When I don’t answer he stands up, bringing the rope with him and in two long strides he’s in front of me. He's ridiculously tall.

I can smell him this close, the musky spice of his cologne fills my nostrils. It’s what was on the shirt and fuck, it smells even better this fresh.

I flinch as he reaches his long fingers out to me, but he doesn’t hurt me. He’s gentle. Delicate, as he tilts my chin up.

“Use your voice for me.”

Is this a test?

Is he going to hurt me if I say the wrong thing?

The first words to tumble from my mouth are, “There’s blood on your neck.”

He rubs his fingers over the spot I’m looking at, but the blood doesn’t come off.

“I need a shower.” He smiles crookedly at me. “You do too. Want to wash up or eat first?”

He’s giving me a choice?

“I want to leave.”

Shadows cast over his features as he looks down at the rope in his hands and runs it through his fingers, making alarm bells ring in my head. Careful, he’s dangerous .

“I know.” His expression tightens as he looks back up at me. “Shower or dinner?”

There’s not really a choice. Still, I’m expected to play along. “Umm, dinner?” I reply, with confusion clear in my voice. At least with that option I can leave the room and look for a way out.

He holds his hand out for me to take, but I shuffle off the bed to the other side, putting some distance between us. My eyes never leaving him.

I must look like a rabid animal like this, all skittish and feral. My hair’s not been brushed since before I was taken and I’m sure the rest of me is just as unkempt.

There’s a wicked sparkle in his eyes as he watches me. I worry he’s going to make an attempt to grab me and tie me up. All he does is toss the rope over onto the chair and head toward the door.

I follow quickly behind him.

His outfit reminds me of the guards at the old house. All black tactical gear minus the mask. Could he be one of them and he’s taking me to meet my real owner? I don’t recognize his voice from any of the men that spoke to me in the basement.

As we walk through the house, I try to take in as much as I can, making a mental map of the layout. The floors are dark marble and cool under my bare feet. The rest of the decor matches the room I woke up in, making the whole place feel like some gothic mansion.

I don’t want to like any of it or be impressed, but I am.

It’s a vast difference from the oak paneling and worn floral carpets in the other house.

There’s no one else around, but from how clean the place is there must be a housekeeper.

It’s huge and I’ve already lost count of how many rooms we’ve passed by the time we reach the stairs. “Can you make it down by yourself?” he asks me over his shoulder.

“Of course, I can,” I snap and he stops midstep. I only just manage to not walk into him. Slowly, he turns and I expect to see him angry from my talking back, but he’s grinning.

He takes a step closer until we’re eye to eye and my breath catches in my throat. In this light, I can really see his eyes. They’re a breathtaking shade of dark green and begging for me to get lost in them. He’s a few inches taller than me, but the height difference isn’t that much. I find myself studying the rest of his face and my eyes settle on his full lips.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Autumn,” I say way too quickly.

“ Autumn .” He rolls the word on his tongue as he looks me up and down like he sees right through my lie. Rather than question it, he abruptly turns away and heads downstairs.

Gripping the railing, I follow him down and do my best to hide my shaking legs. My muscles are still sore and weak from lack of use, but I can’t let him know that.

“Is this your house?” I ask when we reach the bottom.

“Yes.” He makes a left and I linger as I stare at the front door that’s just a few feet away. “It’s locked and so is the front gate. Even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t make it far like that.” He doesn’t stop walking as he talks and I hurry to catch up with him.

We enter a dining hall with a long table in the center, there are two places already set at the far end.

Pulling out the chair to the left, he motions for me to sit down. I hesitate because this is all so weird. I don’t want to play house or whatever this is.

What I want is answers, but I have to bide my time before I start making demands. If I can make him think I’m obedient enough to not have to lock me away twenty-four seven then I might have a shot at freedom.

“Would you rather sit on my lap?” A shiver runs down my spine as his warm breath caresses the nape of my neck and I quickly sit down.

He takes the seat next to me and leans back, grabbing the glass of red wine from the table and knocking it all back in one go. With a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the tall chair.

I steal the moment to study him again. There’s just something about him that makes me want to stare at him all night. He’s strikingly handsome, beautiful even. That means I need to be more wary of him.

“What is this?” I quietly ask.

Peeking one eye open, he watches me through his thick lashes and smiles. “It’s baked fish. If you don’t like it or have any dietary requirements just let me know.”

I scowl at him. Obviously, he knew what I meant.

“I mean, why am I here?” I cast my eyes around the room, looking for any sign of the man before, but it’s only the two of us here.

My new captor ignores me as he fills his glass with more wine. I’m tempted to have some to settle my nerves, but I need a clear head.

“You need to eat,” he says plainly, his long fingers that are stacked with rings and end in black painted nails tap away at the table, irritating me.

“What I need is to know why I’m here.”

“Eat and then you can ask me questions. Can’t have you passing out on me.”

I grind my teeth together so I don’t lash out at him. Then I snatch up the fork and stab a small piece of carrot, chewing on it without taking my eyes off his.

He smirks as he watches me, his eyes lingering on my throat as I swallow.

“Happy now?” I snap as I hide my shaking hands under the table.

“Yes,” he says in that obnoxiously smooth tone of his.

“Then tell me why I’m here.”

“Eat some more first.”

“But you said—”

“You already asked me your question.”

So this is how he wants to play things? By being a jerk. Well, I can be stubborn too.

I grab my fork again, only to toss it onto the table. He watches on in amusement as it bounces off the other side with a loud clatter.

As I cross my arms over my chest, he raises an eyebrow and laughs into his wine, making me feel like I’m a spoiled child.

“Why am I here? Why did you buy me?”

I watch the way his throat bobs as he swallows another glass down, that smear of blood is still there, reminding me how dangerous he must be.

He leans forward on his elbows and I do my best to not shrink away from him. “You’re just going to assume that I bought you? You should be thanking me for saving you.”

Saved? Does that mean the other men are gone?

“If I was saved I’d be in a police station, not this creepy place.”

He shrugs and gathers some food onto his fork.

“I didn’t buy you, but you are mine.”

I want to scream out that I’m not anyone’s, but I bite my tongue.

“And that means?”

“I get to do whatever I want to you. Including making you eat. Now open up.” He holds the fork up to my mouth and I slap it away. His expression remains deadpan, but there’s something fiery in his eyes.

“You’re not going to do anything to me.”

“I can bend you over this table and fuck your brains out. Force you to your knees and choke you with my cock. Tie you up and edge you all night long until you're begging me to relieve that ache between your thighs. I can overpower you so easily if I want to. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You must be desperate for it since you let that old man use you as his own personal cum dumpster.”

I shoot to my feet, my chair falling over behind me and I round on him. “You don’t get to assume anything about me! I’m not desperate to be raped by anyone, including you, you tiny dick asshole!” Grabbing a knife off the table, I point it at his chest.

He looks down at it, but doesn’t stop me. I could stab it in right now and kill him.

Hell, what’s stopping me?

Slowly, I push the knife in until I feel it give as it pierces his skin. I’ve never hurt another person before. Didn’t think I had it in me, but this feels good. Wrong, but good. When I meet his eyes, he’s smiling wildly at me, and my stomach flutters.

He grabs my wrist and pushes the knife deeper. What the hell is he doing? In my panic I open my palm, letting the knife fall free.

Without letting go of me, he stands up and I try to pull away from him, but he was right about being able to overpower me whenever he likes.

He grabs the collar of his black shirt and yanks it down until the thin line of blood I just caused is visible on his tattooed chest.

“I knew it.” There’s a huge crazed grin on his face as he stares down at the mark.

I try to pull my arm free again, but he doesn’t let up. “Knew what?” I ask, panicked.

He drags his fingers over the blood and holds them up between us. The way he stares at the red shining on the tips makes my stomach do that odd flutter again. “That you had fire in your veins. I so hoped you wouldn’t be some meek little thing. Don’t get me wrong, I still would have kept you, taken care of you, but this is so much better.”

As soon as I open my mouth to speak he shoves his fingers inside. The coppery taste skates over my tongue all the way to the back of my throat and I gag.

Before I know what I’m doing, my palm connects with his cheek with a loud slap.

With wide eyes he pulls his fingers free and touches his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood and saliva. “You’re full of venom aren’t you, little viper ?”

Dropping my wrist he grabs my shirt and I yelp as he tears it open. I don’t get chance to move away before he’s driving me back to the table and forcing his body between my legs.

Out of self-preservation, I quickly say, “I’m sorry.”

I try to cover myself, but he gathers both my wrists behind my back and holds them there with one of his large hands. His other hand trails down my front. Gliding over my skin. Circling my breasts. Making my nipples pucker without actually touching them.

The heat in his eyes is so intense that I can feel it radiating off him and soaking into my own body.

“Don’t ever apologize for that .”

I thought this man was crazy, but now I know he’s a full-blown maniac.

His fingers move over to my ribs and settle there. Those beautiful eyes darkening. “You don’t get bruises like these unless you put up a fight. Or did you just lie back and let them beat you for fun?”

“Fuck you!” I snap and he grabs my chin.

“Unfortunately, I like a clean pussy so that’s going to have to wait, Autumn ."

He didn't rape me? I thought that feeling between my legs might have been from him. But he hasn't touched me?

"No, you’re really not an Autumn. Are you going to tell me your actual name or shall I just call you cum dumpster for now?” His eyes assess me like I’m a contestant in some game and he’s judging how well I’m playing. Unfortunately for me, I don’t know the rules.

I struggle against him, but that only makes my pussy rub against the bulge in his pants.

The very hard bulge. I try to ignore both it and the feeling it invokes as best as I can. It’s just my body’s natural reaction after all.

I do the only thing I can think of to get him to stop and I spit in his face. It lands on his cheek. I’m glad to be rid of some of the blood that was in my mouth, but I doubt it was worth whatever retaliation will come next.

I steel myself for a punch, a slap, a kick—whatever he likes to do for punishment.

As he leans closer, the wine on his breath and his cologne becomes overwhelming. Now there’s a coppery undertone to it all. The onslaught is enough to make my head feel light.

With his fingers, he gathers the spit from his cheek and I purse my lips so he can’t force them inside again. But he shocks me by bringing them to his own mouth. Ever so slowly he opens up, his long tongue rolling out and I get the awful thought of what he could do with that thing. Without breaking eye contact with me he sucks his fingers until his cheeks hollow out.

His eyes soften for a brief second as he inhales a deep breath through his nose, his lashes fluttering like he’s just taken a hit of something strong.

Taking them out of his mouth, he says, “No, you’re definitely a little viper. My little viper.”

His hips rock forward, making him brush against me again. An electric spark zaps between my legs and I try to close them, but only end up enclosing him against me.

He runs his fingers along the hairline on my temple as he says in that dangerously low voice of his, “This will all go so much smoother if you let me in.”

“Never.” I shake my head and he sighs. Then to my surprise, he lets me go and takes a step back. I hurry to pull my shirt closed with both hands and try not to tremble against the table.

We both watch each other in a quiet standoff as we wait for the other to make the next move. I’ve already reached my limit for the night and I’m not prepared to fight him any longer.

“If you’re going to hurt me just get it over with.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets he goes back to his seat and acts like nothing just happened.

“Finish your food. I can make you something else if you don’t like it.”

“I’m not hungry.” It’s not even a lie. My stomach’s in knots and I don’t think I could keep anything down. From the look on his face, he’s not taking another no for an answer.

“I will feed you myself if I have to. You can either sit down nicely to eat or I’ll hand-feed you from my lap. The choice is yours.”

There’s that game of false choice again. I’m not going to fall for it and think I have any power here.

Glaring at him I pick my chair back up and sit down. I suppose forcing some food down is a lot better than having anything else forced into my mouth tonight.

“Good girl.”

To stop myself from snapping back I pick some food up with my hands and eat it. I’d hoped the lack of etiquette would be a turn-off for him, but it only humors him more.

It does feel good to have food in my belly again, but I get full after just a few bites.

“I can’t eat anymore.” I look up at him nervously and he raises a brow. “I really can’t. I’m full.”

His gaze travels down to my mostly full plate. “Did they not feed you there? What exactly did they do to you?” Although his voice is low and harsh, it’s also strangely protective. Like he actually cares what happened to me.

“You tell me. I was unconscious and then I woke up here. Why don’t you fill in the gaps for me?”

His eyes snap to mine and I have to look away.

There’s a few moments of intense silence then he says, “I didn’t exactly plan on taking you, but I couldn’t leave you there for anyone else. Did you know the man that kept you?”

I shake my head.

“Will you tell me anything about why you were there? Just give me something to go on and I can help you.”

Again I refuse to answer him. If he’s so sure that he can take whatever he wants from me then why should I make this easy?

He doesn’t want to help me. He wants to use me, like all the others.

“How about that shower?” The sudden change of tone is jarring.

“I’m not—” Being the arrogant asshole he is, he holds his hand up for me to stop talking and I do, with gritted teeth.

“You can have it alone. That room is yours, for tonight. If you don’t want to talk then go make use of the bathroom and get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

“I’m not going to spoil the fun. You’ll just have to wait and see. Do you remember where your room is or do you need me to walk you there?” His eyes shine and I realize he’s getting off on this. If I looked down I’d probably see that hard length in his pants that I felt against me, but I refuse to break that easily.

“I can find it myself.” I hesitate before moving in case I’m misreading the situation, but it seems I’ve been dismissed.

With a grimace, I get up. It’s like I have a death wish as I curtsy to the smug high lord of a man.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as his eyes heat up.

Shit, that really shouldn’t be hot.

I need to keep myself in check. My temper’s already lost me the chance of getting any information from this man tonight.

“I wouldn’t bother wasting your energy looking for a way out. The house is all locked up,” he calls to me, as I leave the dining room with my head held high.

He could be lying. Maybe if I did try the front door it would open, but I don’t have it in me to risk being chained up again.

I still feel weak from the drugs constantly pumped into my system.

Hopefully, if I get some actual rest, I can figure a way out of here tomorrow.