Chapter 4

FOUR

AELLA

T hey let me use the bathroom, albeit at gunpoint, and then they fed and shackled me back to the dusty bed in what seemed to be a garage of some kind. I thought I spotted a motorcycle in the distance—up on a lift—when they led me to the bathroom down the hall. Now, though, it seems silent.

Even though I've been yanking on my cuffs for hours, they haven't given me an inch. Neither has the bed frame.

"It's reinforced steel," a graveled voice says from the shadows near the door.

I screech, my heart speeding with fear.

It's him.

The one who took me in the first place has been here the entire time.

"So, you take prisoners often, then," I retort, trying not to let any fear leak into my tone. It still shakes.

A soft chuckle moves through the room as his imposing figure steps from the shadows .

When had he come in?

I'll admit, I'd fallen asleep for a couple of hours, adrenaline having left me bone tired from my ordeal. Once they'd fed me, the food had zapped the last of my consciousness. But I hadn't heard him enter, and the door squeaks awful.

"Rarely. But when we need to, we know the bed frame will hold. More often, women get cuffed to the bed for other reasons."

The innuendo isn't lost on me, but I ignore how my body squirms under his glare. He doesn't seem to blink. He's honed in on me like I'm something to devour, and he's been starving for years.

"What do you plan to do with me?" I ask as he sits where the other man had only hours before. Dawn is breaking; likely, no one will know I've been missing for some time. I haven't had contact with my father in almost a year, and I just lost my fiancé and best friend in one fell swoop.

He shrugs. "Don't know yet. That's up to the boss."

Funny, I thought he was the boss.

He has an overbearing presence, one that has me questioning my bodily reactions and my sanity.

"I don't want to die," I say. I don't know why I said it, but I needed to tell him, and I couldn't ignore the need.

"Don't you?"

His question startles me, and I move closer to the bed frame, tucking my knees into my body. "What?"

He leans in, and his scent covers me like a fucking air pocket only he and I are stuck in. I can't escape it: leather and something rustic like sandalwood. I swallow, and he flicks his eyes down my throat for a split second.

"There's something in your eyes, Bambi. Something that tells a predator like me you're prey. It calls out to me. Don't you feel it inside you?"

His hand skims down the underside of my cuffed arm. He lets his fingers tease my bare armpit and then hike over the side of my breast. Even though there are two layers of clothing over them, my nipples harden for him, pressing against the cotton of my bra.

My breathing is erratic at best.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell him, swallowing as I taste the lie on the tip of my tongue.

"Mmm, I think you do. You've been dying for a long time and given over to the notion, Bambi. Whether you want to admit it or not."

When he straightens, taking his hand with him, a part of me wants to beg for it back. The way my body responded to his touch is something I've never felt before. Not with anyone.

It doesn't matter if I'm a virgin, saved for my husband on our wedding day—the one who'd rather be caught dead than caught fucking me—I've never felt attraction like I just had.

"And who are you to tell me what I feel?" I ask, trying to keep him from leaving. Sitting here, alone with my own thoughts, has been driving me more insane than the notion of being kidnapped.

"I could be death himself for all you know. Who are you to question me?" he counters, and I shift on the bed.

My arm burns, so I use the other one to perch under a pillow. My hand is cuffed up on the very top bar of the metal headboard, and keeping it upright is taking its toll on me.

The man stands, fumbling in his pocket for something before pulling out a key. He works the key into the cuffs, and for some ungodly reason, I don't bolt for the door.

I'm caught in his gravity, watching as he helps me lie on the bed. He cuffs me to the lowest bar on the headboard, which allows my arm reprieve.

He leans over me, pocketing the key.

I have to admit, he could be Death himself. I'd follow him to hell in an instant.

The notion causes my chest to swell with worry over my mental state.

"There, Bambi. Now you can get some sleep."

My mouth opens to thank him, and then I think better of it. They kidnapped me, and I won't thank him for loosening my restraints.

"Braxton! What the fuck are you doing?" a voice shouts, and I jump. I notice Braxton doesn't. His eyes are locked on mine, and I can't escape them.

"Just helping Bambi get more comfortable," he admits, finally breaking our stare and standing straighter to eye the man who'd entered the room earlier.

"I told you to stay away from her. You said you understood!"

"Awe, come on, Miles. Since when have you not let your Cobras off leash for a little fun?"

Cobras?

I look between them, thankful it's not me with whom Miles is angry. The rage on his face is the most I've ever seen someone show before. I live in a world of tightly veiled appearances: fake men and even faker women. You say nothing that you don't want to be printed in the media and pretend to fit in with everyone at every function. It's why I've been pulling away from the limelight. Why the Star Times recently reported there's been no sightings of me, even with Carter on red-carpet events for charities and the company.

"You are not them , and you fucking know it!" Miles shouts and even my body quakes nervously.

But Braxton only scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to fucking hurt her."

"And how do I know that, Brax? What happened to Cherry? Was that you behaving?"

Braxton looks at his boots. "That was different, and you know it."

"You'd best scurry back off to your lair and stay there, Brax."

"And what are you going to do with her?" Brax looks over at me, and my pulse speeds.

Who was Cherry, and what did he do to her?

"She's none of your concern any longer. You know how you get. Stay away from here for the time being."

Brax opens his mouth to argue, but Miles's face hardens further, and he nods.

Brax looks at me. "If they decide to dispose of you, I'll see you then. Goodnight, Bambi."

Part of me wants to beg Braxton to stay. Tell Miles to leave him the fuck alone. While I can feel the looming danger of him, as well as I can feel a coming storm in my arm after I broke in middle school, something is lurking beneath his skin that rouses a darker side in me.

Something I didn't know existed.

"So, you and I are going to have a little chat," Miles says, undoing my handcuffs and sitting on the end of the bed.

When I sit up in the middle of the bed, I notice the shift in his body. He's not afraid of me, but he's uncomfortable.

Who are these men?

"About? If you think I have any information on my father's enterprises, you're wrong. I've tried to stay away from him as much as possible."

He rolls his eyes. "And your fiancé? You're going to tell me the man you were fucking didn't tell you anything about what he and your father got up to?"

Of course, he thinks I'm just what the media said I was.

I don't know how many times I'd been called a whore when I would go out with male friends over the years. Or called a tramp who was sullying my father's name. Or a cheater. When all the while, I've fucked no one.

"I'm a fucking virgin, so no, he wasn't whispering sweet nothings and plans in my ear at nighttime. And if you two fools would've done your homework and gone inside the house, you'd have seen my best friend riding his dick and my bedroom that is on the opposite wall as his."

The news makes him soften. "Well, he's a fucking fool. That's intel we can use."

I nearly choke on the air. "Excuse me?" I hadn't meant to give them anything, but my outburst somehow had.

"Pretty princess, anyone who isn't thoroughly fucking you until your cunt is aching and your knees are weak is a goddamn fool." His eyes bore into me. I feel like they're chipping away at my resolve.

"I—Well... All I was saying is I don't know anything." I'm flustered, and he knows it.

A small laugh filters out of him, and I sit back and cross my arms.

"You're still a bargaining chip for when we need one."

"Good, call and give him a ransom or whatever you're going to do. I'm ready to go."

He nods. "So ready to go back to a life with sadness living in your beautiful eyes?"

His words make me fucking angry. So livid that I sit forward and spew, "Stop trying to read me! The both of you! You don't fucking know me!"

He leans in, anguish on his features. His hand comes up, and I bristle, awaiting the slap of pain accompanying the strike. But he brushes my hair behind my ear, and I open my eyes. His green eyes are far deeper than anything I've ever seen before.

"Dangerous men see what others don't, princess. We see that which people try to hide. I can't stop reading you because the moment I don't assess a situation correctly is the moment of my death."

Something in my chest winds with pain at the thought of his death.

You don't fucking know them!

The reminder has me scurrying back to safety near the headboard. "Do you need anything else?"

He laughs. "Are you dismissing me, princess?"

I look toward the window, where the rising sun fills the room with light.

"Very well," he says, standing and moving toward me.

I don't turn my face away from the beauty of the sunrise beyond the pane, only lift my arm for him to shackle me once more.

"Brax was right, you know? You need to rest. Come, lie down."

Even though I know it's ridiculous, I listen. I curl up and get comfortable with my arm beneath a pillow. He waits before cuffing me to the lowest bar.

As my eyes shut, my mind quiets.

But I'll never forget the words he utters before he leaves.

"You belong to the Cobras now, princess. Sleep while you can."