Chapter Four

Free Fall

Ella

The first thing Ella noticed was the gnawing discomfort in her head. Not bad enough to penetrate her slumber, the ache simply nagged in the corners of her mind, warning perhaps that she should wake, that something was wrong. Even within the confines of her sleep, though, she sensed her body's exhaustion, and while she could not say how or why she was so weary, she ignored the silent caution and slept on.

All that seemed to matter was that she rested. As if the weight of some ill-fated adventure had pummeled her, and this was the first chance she'd had to close her eyes. Ella dismissed the pain for as long as she could until its intrusion cut into the floating comfort of her dreams, and she could bear it no more.

The next thing was her restricted movement. Alarm bells rang out louder as she tried to shift her hand to her face and found that, for no particular reason, she wasn't able to. Sighing, she stretched, prepared to try again. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep on her arm, and she had lost the feeling? Maybe that's why she couldn't move it properly.

It was only when her second, then third attempts failed that her heart rate sped up, sending adrenaline to wake her.

Something's wrong.

Her eyelids flickered in recognition, her toes wriggling as she roused. Something soft was covering her, and she was warm.

I must be in bed.

Her lips curled into a lazy smile at the soothing idea. Bed sounded perfect. Finally, back in her own enormous king-sized divan, she could get proper beauty sleep and put the nightmare of Tucker behind her.

An image of his face burst into her mind's eye, disturbing what remained of her rest.

Tucker had been a fiend. She didn't know much about the guy or care to know more, but what she knew was dreadful enough. He was a man the same age as her father who was utterly as callous, prepared to hurt and denigrate to get what he wanted.

He was nothing to her.

Maybe I dreamed him?

The thought was oddly warming. Yes, that must have been what happened.

I was so tired that I crashed out and dreamed the whole sorry encounter.

There was no cabin in the woods, no barn to be trussed up in, and no rabbit pie, but first and foremost, there was definitely no Tucker. No man as dark and foreboding existed in real life. She'd conjured him based on one of those spicy romance books she liked to devour on vacation.

There was no captor determined to bring her to her knees. No one compelling her to call him sir, and no one with the kinds of blue eyes she could dive into.

Tucker was a figment of her imagination.

Her muscles relaxed at the verdict, though as she leaned into the peace, she realized that both her arms were stretched behind her head.

Strange.

Brow furrowed, she turned her head, her gaze opening to clarify it was indeed the case.

But that's not right.

Her pulse quickened, although there were no obvious signs of danger.

The barn was all part of my nightmare. I'm not there now. I'm in bed.

She could feel the support of the mattress beneath her, confirming the point.

Slowly, as though she sensed the significance of the outcome, her head twisted in the opposite direction. There, too, was her bicep, her left arm extended in the same way as the right. Something definitely wasn't right. Ella had never woken up in such an awkward position before.

Pulling in a deep breath, she instructed her hands to lower to her sides. Maybe she'd only fallen asleep in an odd, contorted position? Exhaustion could do that, and it would explain her confusion as she awoke. But yet again, her body refused to respond to her brain's command. However hard she jerked her arms to join the rest of her body, they didn't seem to move, and as she focused, she swore she felt something soft wrapped around her wrists.

A familiar panic tightened in the middle of her chest, spreading out to her ribs and beyond until suddenly, it was difficult to catch her breath.

Oh God.

The dread was cold, extending across her like an icy blast.

There was something unnervingly recognizable about her situation. She certainly wasn't dangling from ropes in a barn. She was warm and reasonably comfortable—a far cry from the hideous evening she'd spent in Tucker's outhouse—but being immobilized and anxiety-ridden was all too reminiscent of her time there.

Pulling in a shaky breath, she strained to listen. Was there anything she could hear that would elaborate the situation for her? Any telltale signs of where she was and why she couldn't move? Listening harder, there wasn't much to discern, save for the noise of her hammering heart and an infrequent crackle of what might have been a fire, although if such a thing was there, Ella felt none of its benefit.

She forced her head into a neutral position, resolved that there was only one way to know what was happening for sure. She had to be brave, had to open her eyes properly and see where she was.

She had to know for sure.

Time slowed in that surreal way it did sometimes, lengthening each second into what seemed like an hour. She'd lost track of those hours by the time her eyes were ready to open, the sound of her racing heart blocking out the fizzing noises she thought she'd heard.

Come on.

Balling her hands into fists, she willed herself on, but still her eyes resisted. Her lids felt heavy as though they, too, thought it better not to see.

In the end, she forced them open, taking in the sight of a wooden ceiling overhead. When her gaze darted lower and spotted the baby blue blanket she'd clung to before, time appeared to cease altogether.

Shit!

Any semblance of calm shattered into a thousand splinters, each metaphorical shard flying through the air and landing in her skin simultaneously. As though those spikes had really pierced her flesh, she lurched from the bed and let out a cry.

"Ella."

He emerged in her peripheral vision as though he'd been hiding there all along, just watching and waiting.

No doubt he has.

"Oh God!" She spoke the words that time. "Oh God, no!"

How could this be right? How could she be back here in the shitty hut he called home?

Just like that, the answer came to her, crushing her with the weight of its inevitability.

She'd run! Broken free from the tree and fled before finding the river. She'd been happy there for a moment before he'd arrived. She remembered that much, but she couldn't recall what had transpired next.

"Do you remember what happened?" His voice was even.

"I…" Her voice trailed away. "I don't know."

"What was that?" There was a harder edge to his tone that time. "Do you also need a reminder about how to refer to me, little girl?"

Her blood chilled at the perverted pet name he'd created for her.

Little girl.How could she have forgotten that?

"Wh-why am I here again?" Her voice broke as she asked, her bewilderment unraveling into desperation. The bad dream she thought she'd left behind was real, the reality of it slamming her hard in the face.

"Didn't you hear me?" He loomed closer, his blue eyes drilling into her face.

"And me?" Trepidation throbbed in her head. "Can you hear me?"

"Oh, I hear you, little girl."

She shivered at his menacing tone.

"I'm the one who scooped you from the ground when your knees gave way." He leaned closer, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "I'm the one who lured the bear away, so you didn't get mauled."

"Bear?" Her brow creased as fleetingly a recollection of the animal exploded in her mind.

"You don't remember." He folded his arms over his chest.

"Not really."

"And me?" His eyebrow arched. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes." How could she ever forget Tucker? Hell, the man had even haunted her subconscious.

"Yes…" he prompted, evidently waiting for the word he wanted to hear.

"You want me to call you sir?" Resignation resounded in her voice.

"So, you do remember?"

"Yes." Sir. The word stuck in her throat.

"Do you remember running?" He didn't push the point any further, and she was thankful for the short-term reprieve. She knew the subject would return to bite her.

"Yes." She swallowed. "I do now."

"Want to tell me about that?" Dropping to one knee, he lowered beside her.

Tell him about it? What did he want to hear?

"I had to get away." She sniffed back tears, turning to rub them away on her skin. "I can't stay here, can't survive like this."

"You were silly, little girl." He shook his head, though she noticed how his stare never left hers. "You know that, don't you?"

"I…" Did she? "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." He placed his hand on the blanket, resting on her belly. "You can die out there."

"I could die in here."

"Hardly." He smirked at her quip. "I will feed and warm you, and when you deserve it, I'll clothe you."

Wait, what? "When I d-deserve it?" What the fuck did that mean? Wasn't she dressed? Her attention turned to her outstretched body, praying that she could feel her joggers and sweater, but to her alarm, she realized she couldn't.

"Oh, crap." She couldn't catch her breath. "I'm naked."

"That's right." His gaze was knowing.

"You took my clothes off?" He'd carried her back to this awful place, then taken the liberty of stripping her? The swell of freezing dismay furled in her chest as he drew closer.

He stripped me!

Well, of course, he had. Tucker had a proven track record of the behavior, didn't he? What else had she expected?

"You were very naughty, little girl." He blew out a breath, his hand brushing along the top of the blanket and skimming her right breast. "Weren't you?"

"No." She could scarcely even get the word out.

"Oh, yes."

She sensed he was only half serious, but who knew with Tucker? Sometimes, he seemed gentle and interested in her, and other times, he was the monster again. The hand approaching her throat reminded her more of the latter.

"And naughty girls need to be punished."

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. "What does that mean?"

What would she have done to coax the gentle version of Tucker from his hard shell at that moment? The answer echoed in her head.

Anything.

"What I said." His voice was soft. "I'll punish you."

Oh God. "How?"

"However I choose." There was an ugly conceit in his tone. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

The End