Chapter 13

Thirteen

Cold. That’s my first thought when I start to stir. I go to reach for the blanket, but my arms can’t move. Where am I? My brain is so fuzzy. I struggle to recall my last memories. Anders. I was with Anders. Wait, I was with Anders. I try to open my eyes, but my lids just won’t cooperate. Those orgasms must have really taken it out of me! I can feel the brain fog trying to lift, but I am being pulled back under. I fight against it, willing my limbs to move, my eyes to open, my mind to clear, but it’s a struggle. Slowly, so slowly, the outside world starts to filter in.

My eyes crack open, but there is darkness still, and I can’t see anything. My fingers twitch, but my arms still won’t move. I can wiggle my toes, but my legs are frozen. I am on a hard, cold surface. I can hear dripping to my left. Turning my head towards the sound, I realise the darkness is from the material over my eyes. What the fuck? I try harder to move my limbs, but they’re being held in place. The rattle of metal echoes. I am bound. Tied down. Blindfolded. Shit.

I try to call out, but my voice is barely a rasp. I have a bitter taste in my mouth, and it is as dry as a desert. I try to swallow, but I have no saliva.

Footsteps. The sound grows louder as they approach. More metal clanging. Keys? A door opens to my right, but the hinges protest, like they aren’t used often. My breathing is uneven. I don’t even bother trying to pretend I’m not awake. I’m not that good of an actress.

I can’t hear any movement from the direction of the door, but there is the sound of chains clanking to my left. I’m not alone. There’s someone else in here, also bound by the sounds of it. Anders? I try to push my head against the surface I am on, to dislodge the blindfold, but rough hands quickly still my movements.

“None of that, Your Highness. You might mark that pretty face if you keep scratching your head like that,” grumbles a voice close to my right side.

Male, definitely. I don’t fight him, but do slowly turn my face in his direction.

“You must have made a mistake; I am no Highness. I’m no-one. But if you let me and my friend go, we won’t say anything. We can just pretend this never happened and you can find the person you are really after.”

My captor just huffs a laugh and moves around me, heading towards the sound of the rattling metal coming from my left that kicked up a notch when I started to speak. Maybe it is Anders, and he’s reacting to my voice? I don’t dare say his name, though, just in case.

More movement sounds, almost like a scuffle. Deep grunts before a loud thump, and a muffled moan. I start pulling against my arm restraints to get my captor’s attention, worried he’s attacking Anders.

“Hey, back over here, big guy. I don’t like being left out,” I say, completely faking any kind of bravery.

Silence. Maybe I stunned him? At least his attack has ceased.

I feel it before I hear anything. A presence, standing where the door is. Whoever it is absolutely radiates menacing power. I mean, I’ve read that description in books, but I never really understood its meaning until now.

“So, this is her, then. The prodigal daughter returned.” His voice is smooth, tone cultured, but the inflection is dead. No emotion at all. “Show her to me.”

My captor shuffles over, and I hear more metal sounds. Cranking? My body start to rise. No, not my body, the surface I’m clearly chained to. I’m still disoriented with the blindfold on, and no light seeping through, but my body is tilting like I am being made to stand up.

Once upright, a thud sounds and the surface with my body attached shudders to a halt before I can feel myself being rotated to face the doorway. Rough hands pull the blindfold from my face and my vision is assaulted by bright lights, like walking out into the middle of the day after being in the cinema. I squint and try to limit the light filtering through, willing my eyes to adjust quickly.

I turn my head and take in my surroundings. Concrete walls, concrete floor, concrete ceiling. I try to turn in the direction of the other captive, to see if it is indeed Anders, but with the rotation, they are behind me now.

I am bound at the wrists and ankles, spread eagle by what looks like leather cuffs with small padlocks attached to them. Chains from the cuffs extend outwards to the corners of a metal frame with what appears to be a thin layer of concrete inlaid.

I look down at my body, noticing for the first time that I’m clothed in black leggings and a black tank. I squirm a little and can feel that I have underwear and a bra on. Someone has clearly clothed me because the last thing I remember is being naked in Anders’s bed with him wrapped around me.

I lift my head to face the man in the doorway. He is impeccably dressed. Black dress shoes peek out from beneath a perfectly tailored black pin-stripe suit. Black button-down shirt, black vest, black tie. There is even a black jewel glinting from his tie pin. I’m about to make a snide remark about being on the way to a funeral with the black-on-black get-up, but my heart stutters to a complete stop when I see his face.

He is striking. Black hair immaculately tamed, but with a slight curl. High cheekbones and slashing black brows. Full lips that are flat. But that is not what has caught my attention. It’s his startling green eyes. My green eyes. The ones my mum said were just like his.

“Hello, daughter.”