Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Huxley

I SLEPT A couple of hours, but mostly I’ve been restless. The wood floors are hard and the obvious anxiety from being locked inside a fucking cage in some psychopath’s house kept me from letting down my guard.

I’m thankful that Glory was able to find some rest, at least. She’s sleeping soundly now, her body curled against my side and her head on my chest. Perhaps her touch is another reason I can’t sleep. My heart has been pounding painfully since she laid her head on my chest. She must have been able to hear it beating.

I rub my hand over her back as she rests, unwilling to let her go, though my mind screams to get up, to move, to figure a way out of this mess. But I can’t bring myself to give up this moment because even in our shitty situation, I’m selfish enough to favor holding her close over taking action.

There’s a loud thud from outside and it startles me. It startles Glory, too, her body jerking her awake.

She shoots up and looks around the room. “What was that?”

I watch her shoulders slump as the realization hits her all over again that we’re still trapped here, that it isn’t a dream. Another loud thud sounds, and I sit up, too.

Light floods the home from the hallway, showing us clearly that the sun has risen. Though there’s no window inside our cage room, plenty of light seeps in through the large windows at the front of the small home, and it filters into our room.

I reach for Glory, running my hand down the back of her head.

She turns to look at me, her green eyes scanning the features of my face. “Did you sleep at all?” she asks softly, and the genuine concern in her voice guts me.

“A little.”

She sighs. “I was hoping I’d wake up to find this was all a dream…a nightmare.”

“I know. I was hoping the same.”

“Has he come back?”

I shake my head. “No. At least I haven’t seen him come down the hallway.” I shift, sitting up straighter with my back against the wall. “I think he’s outside.” Another loud thud echoes, confirming my thoughts. “Sounds like he’s chopping wood or something.”

She turns sideways to face me, her knees bent and legs fawned. “What are we gonna do?”

I let out a long breath and rub my hands over my face. “I honestly don’t fucking know.”

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t lost control of myself with my dad, we would never have been out in the woods. This never would’ve happened. I’m such a fuck-up.”

She buries her face in her hands and it makes me boil with rage to hear her talk about herself like that. I grab her wrists, maybe a little too harshly, and yank them away from her face. Her head snaps up and her eyes widen in surprise at my roughness, but I have her attention.

“You’re not a fuck-up, Glory. Yes, you’ve fucked up a few times in your life, but your mistakes don’t define you. And regardless, what you did to your dad…that wasn’t a mistake. He hurt you. He hurt you in the most disgusting way imaginable, and he deserved what you did to him.”

“But we wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t—”

I jerk her wrists, tugging them toward me, pulling her closer as I lean forward. “If you hadn’t, I would have. I would’ve killed him if I’d found him…doing that to you.”

She visibly swallows, her tender throat bobbing, drawing my gaze to the curve of her neck. Her skin looks so soft, so smooth, and I find myself wondering if she’s sensitive there…if my lips would tickle her skin or trigger desire…

“Hux?” It’s like snapping myself from a trance to drag my eyes away to meet hers. She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head and hooded eyes. Her voice is a whisper when she speaks again. “You…Your eyes are different when you look at me now.”

My fists clench unconsciously, but they’re wrapped around her wrists. She gasps as I squeeze, and the way it makes her plump lips part is almost inviting.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I swallow my longing for her because I’m certain it has no place in this cage. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She looks down and shakes her head. “Don’t try to make me think I’m seeing things. I know what I see when I look at you.”

“What do you see?”

“Well, I don’t see my stepbrother. Not exactly. I see a man who’s come to my rescue over and over again, even at his own risk.”

“I care about you.” I let my hands fall away from her wrists and grip her cheeks instead. “I’ll always rescue you, Glory. Always.”

She leans forward and I feel the shift between us as something visceral, as if something unseen stirs inside her and reaches out between us, clawing into my burning flesh and pulling me closer. Before I know it, her lips are only a breath from mine and I have no idea what’s fucking happening here.

I try to convince myself that this is only desperation, that it’s only need for a greater connection in the midst of a dangerous crisis, a need to solidify a physical bond to strengthen each other when we’re feeling so powerless.

But I know it’s something more. It’s aching, repressed cravings for more rushing to the surface. It’s years of denial for me and years of loneliness for her. It’s need I can no longer deny myself, knowing I can never deny her.

When her eyes flutter shut, it feels like a door slamming closed on our past, on our platonic bond as step-siblings. It feels like permission…

No.

It feels like a request, a demand to touch my lips to hers and take the last of our innocent relationship, swallow it down, and let it spark a fire in my gut that I know will burn us both to ashes.

Her tongue sweeps innocently across her lips and fuck, that makes me lose control. Gripping her cheeks, I slam my lips to hers, kissing her with a fierce passion I’ve never shared with anyone.

She whimpers against my lips, the sweetest sound of letting go as she parts them for me. Her tongue seeks mine as ferociously as mine seeks hers, and fuck, she tastes better than I ever imagined she would. She tastes sweet, just like maple candy.

Her body leans into mine as she grips my shirt, and I imagine she can feel my heart beating wildly beneath her touch. One hand slips down to her neck, wrapping around the side of it, my thumb slipping over that soft, smooth skin.

I kiss her as though I could consume her, deeply and with hunger. For some reason, I always imagined her returning a kiss with gentle innocence, with curious and soft exploration, but she’s shattered my delusion. She holds nothing back, and it makes me wonder if she wanted me as much as I’ve wanted her—if we’ve always wanted each other and have just been pointlessly denying ourselves.

She moves quickly, shifting to straddle my outstretched legs. I groan as her body sways into mine, as she presses a palm to the wall above my head to brace herself as she bends and deepens our kiss.

Good God, I never expected—

My head snaps, turning toward the door and breaking our kiss as I see him enter like a black shadow in the night. Glory gasps as he approaches, her hands falling away as she quickly pulls her leg over mine, moving behind me. I get to my knees and move in front of her to shield her body with mine.

He moves in front of the cage, coming in close, crouching to his haunches. Sweat dots his brow, and his hands rest on the handle of a large axe, the blade seated heavily on the floor between his legs. There’s something odd swirling behind his dark eyes, something I can’t quite place.

“Is the entertainment for your benefit or for mine?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

I brood, choosing silence.

“Tell me your names.”

“No.”

“Tell me your names, and I’ll think about letting you go.”

“Fuck no. You don’t need to know who we are, and we don’t need to know who you are. Let us go and we’ll disappear. We’ve got our own damn secrets to hide.”

The man smirks, an unamused lift of the corner of his lips. He runs a hand through his thick black hair, and I’m fixated on the darkness of his eyes.

“You two are my secret now,” he says. “But I haven’t decided whether it’s a secret worth keeping…or burying.”

Glory whimpers, her hands coming up to grip my biceps as she presses her face into my back. Her need for me strengthens my resolve, gives me pride, makes my chest rise in indignation against this man as her savior, her protector.

He leans sideways, trying to peek around me at Glory. “What’s wrong, little bird? Does being locked in a cage frighten you? Or does it set you free? Does it give you permission to do things you’ve always wanted to do but never let yourself?” He looks at me. “Was that the first time she’s kissed you? Or has she kissed you before and feared this one might be the last?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Everything you do is my business now.”

His eyes burrow into mine, the darkness within them setting off a rush of…something. Anxiety? Anger? Passion? I can’t find the words to describe what washes over me, but it’s an unsettling feeling.

“I have a delivery to make,” he tells us. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Use the shower if you want, you both look like hell. If you behave yourselves, I might feel inclined to feed you when I return.”

Glory shoves to her feet and darts out from behind me, rushing to grip the bars in front of him. He stands to meet her eyes, though his height forces him to look down upon her. “Don’t leave us in here, please! Just let us go home. I promise, we won’t say a word about you to anyone. We just want to go home. We don’t even know your name. We won’t tell a soul. Please.”

God, the way her voice trembles…

The man steps closer, looking down at her in a way that makes my fists clench, though I don’t know whether I want to punch him or hold her more.

“My name is Ambrose Bishop,” he says, his gaze flickering across her face, drawing a line down to her heaving chest. “Now you know my name…and that’s too much information to let you go.”

The knowledge is more confining than the cage because it’s damning. He can’t let us go now with the knowledge of his name—he told us intentionally and the truth of that hits us violently, like a silent blast of energy through the metal bars.

He doesn’t intend to let us go.

Ambrose Bishop swivels and strides from the room to the sound of Glory’s scream.