Chapter Two

Paralysis

Ella

The dread curling in her stomach constricted, making it difficult to think.

Beg.

The word exploded in her head, filling her senses until the sound of her heart banging plagued her ears.

Beg, beg, beg.

Tucker was going to make her beg. Even though she'd never pleaded with a single soul until she'd set eyes on him, and she'd sworn she never would. As the reality dawned on her, there was little doubt in her mind. He would achieve it. He had the means and the obvious inclination.

If it was possible, her heart accelerated at the danger of that certainty. He was going to do something to her. Something over which she had no control, but beyond the obvious performative denigration he clearly enjoyed, she had no idea what he meant by the threat.

"I'm sorry that I ran."

Unable to think of anything else to say, she spewed another insincere apology. She wasn't truly sorry and, given half a chance, she would no doubt run again, but it was possible she might regret inciting the current turn of events.

"Oh, Ella." His smile lit up his face, revealing the same handsome features that had started to thaw her earlier in the day. "I know you might believe that, but I promise you that you're not sorry yet."

His gaze was hungry as it devoured her breasts, and taking his time, he edged the blue blanket farther down her body. Time froze as he inched it along her midriff, stopping only inches short of where her pelvis began. The dread crawling around her skin chilled her limbs until she could hardly feel her fingers and toes.

"But you will be." His attention skimmed along her bared skin until he found her face. His eyes conveyed a mixture of emotions, but she struggled to decipher them. The man wielded such power over her at that moment—the power to be kind or cruel, the power to starve or feed, and in the end, the power of life or death—to not know his mind only exacerbated her alarm. "I promise by the time I untie you, you will be sorry."

"Oh God." She believed him. There was no doubt about that.

Few people on the planet had ever truly produced sorrow, regret, or remorse from Ella, but staring into his cold blue eyes, she had the sense that Tucker was one of them.

Balling into fists, her fingernails dug into the palm of her hands as she tried to calm her breathing.

"What are you going to do?"

Or more like, what am I going to do?

The question reverberated in her mind as his lips twisted.

Somehow, his silence was even scarier than his menacing tone.

"That's enough of your questions." Leaning toward her, he pressed one fingertip to her lips and hushed her.

Panting around the digit, her eyes widened with dismay. She wanted to bite the finger and spit in his face, but her panic guaranteed her acquiescence. However much it pained her, she wasn't an idiot. Until she could find a way out of his binds and his cabin, there was no choice but to conform.

"Quiet, little girl, or I'll find your ball gag again." There was absolute sincerity in his voice. "Is that what you want?"

No!

She might not have been permitted to speak, but Ella was certain that the word burst from her every pore. She knew her eyes delivered the message, whether or not her lips remained passive.

"No?" His tone was tinged with conceit, her toes curling at the sound.

Jerk.Her gaze narrowed at his superiority complex.

Could she really have ever admitted, if only to herself, that she desired the arrogant oaf? If so, she'd been blind to confess such an abhorrence. Blinded by terror at her captivity, perhaps? That was the only logical explanation. There was no way she craved a man as cruel as Tucker.

No way in any of her twisted daydreams that she could want a man as sordid as the one towering over her.

She shook her head, uncertain if her glare conveyed the distress or contempt swilling in her emotions. Maybe it made no difference either way. Tucker seemed hellbent on enacting his sick revenge, whatever her view.

Her body stiffened at the terrifying prospect. He was angry, and he could do whatever he liked with her. How was she ever going to get away from his clutches?

It wasn't the first time since she'd roused in the forest alone that she'd stared down the barrel of her own mortality. As her gaze flitted past his head to the wooden ceiling, she had to wonder if the inside of his unimpressive cabin would be the final view she ever saw.

"Good." The pressure on her lips lessened. "Then we agree."

Agree?Inwardly, she scowled at the premise. She didn't agree with anything the man had done, and whatever her fate, she had no clue how he, or her useless father, could live with themselves.

"Lie here and take your punishment."

His gaze bore into her expression, compelling her to remain as impassive as she could. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal the true extent of her terror. It was awful enough she'd admitted her fear, only for it to be dismissed out of hand. She couldn't allow him any more power in their already stacked dynamic.

"Do as you're told, when you're told to do it, then…" The hand that hovered at her mouth fell to her chin, stroking her skin as he went on. "Then I'll hear your apology."

Crap.

Trepidation knotted inside her as she read his gaze and realized Tucker was deadly serious. His shrewd expression reminded her of the way he'd looked when he'd left her dangling in the barn. Everything he was about to do had been well thought through, but rather than being reassuring, the thought only petrified her.

Tucker had proven what he was prepared to achieve with careful consideration. It seemed little was off the table.

Oh God.

Opening her lips, she dragged in another breath. He'd already stripped her without her agreement. God only knew what else he'd done when he'd had the opportunity. Tucker had hardly contemplated her consent when she'd been conscious, let alone when she'd been out for the count.

Squeezing the muscles at the apex of her thighs, she felt for any anomalies. Did anything seem different since she'd woken up? There was no obvious pain, and that, at least, was good, but how could she know what he'd done while she'd slept? The thought was debilitating.

"Very good." For some reason, he seemed pleased with her introspection.

No doubt, he believed it to be the product of his warning and that she was contrite when the reality was further from the truth than he could possibly understand.

She'd tell him whatever she thought he wanted to hear to get out of his binds. If that meant apologizing until she screamed the words from the blasted rafters, then so be it. Her pride would have to take the fall.

"Let's begin." He swept away the remaining blanket in one fell swoop, displaying her body to the chilly air.

Her lips parted to gasp, the sound echoing around her as he folded the cover and placed it on the chair behind him. The panic shattering her senses overrode her initial intrigue at the care he seemed to take over the task. Why should a man as callous as Tucker—a man prepared to take a woman who didn't belong to him and use his might to keep her—care about something as trivial as a blanket?

She didn't know the answer, but as he spun around to face her, all thoughts of the query evaporated.

Whatever happened next, she had to survive.