Chapter 9

Iheard a thud from behind my door, startling me. My mouth dried, and the tears came to a screeching halt. Someone was coming. My heart pounded, and I darted my head left to right to see where I could hide. There was nothing in this room other that a king-sized bed with a chair beside it. I couldn't hide under the bed; my tits would never let me fit. Maybe in the dark, empty closet? No. There were no clothes to hind behind. In a panic, acting on the impulse of adrenaline, the only place I could think of hiding was behind the curtain.

I scurried and twisted myself into it like a burrito. My stomach gurgles at the thought of food. Mmm burrito. How long had it been since my last meal? It was anyone's guess, but I knew it had been too long. Shit, my feet. The green polish on my toes and my pasty white ankles stuck out from underneath the drapes of the curtain. Idiot. The sound of locks clunking and electrical hums echoed through the air, and the door clicked open. Instinctively, my hand smacked over my mouth to mute my pants, sending a rush of fear and angst through my veins.

Adrenaline was the only thing telling me who or what was the other side of the door. Terror washed across my face in thought of who it could be, letting the names run a vicious cycle in my brain. Only relying on my hearing and sense of smell. I gasped at the squeaky rotation of wheels echoing across the room, like a cart being wheeled in, and the door closed behind it, creating a clap and mechanical buzz as it shut and locked. I waited in silence with my heart in my throat. The sound of faint but calm feminine breaths and a bright flashlight beamed across the room.

"Miss?" a soft, coaxing voice called out. A woman. The unease that fluttered in my stomach almost vanished completely from her tone. Was she here to rescue me? A police-woman maybe? I unrolled myself from the curtain tangle, seeing the woman was standing by the door with a perturbed look on her face, noticing my red eyes from crying. I squawked loudly, stumbling my way across the room toward her.

"Help! Please help me!" She scrunched her face into a genuine sympathetic glare, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. Her eyes darted from my head to toes more than once, and written all over her face was a look that only sunk my heart. Repetition. This clearly was a regular occurrence, that she was accustomed to. She wasn't here to save me. My mind stewed into a vicious torment of just how many women had been here, let a lone the women in the cages. Wallowing in their own vomit, pee, and dignity.

She was dressed effortlessly in a crisp maid outfit with a tight bun perched behind her head. "Sorry to scare you, miss," she offered sincerely, but her voice was firm. My lips parted, and my words sat at the tip of my tongue, but she interrupted me from speaking. "Please, you must be hungry." She gestured to the food she had rolled on the trolly with an apprehensive look on her face.

I hadn't even smelt it until now; the scent of freshly baked eggs and bacon intoxicated my nose. The growl that rumbled startled me. God, I was famished. But the thought of the food being laced with something tapped at my mind. It would be a stupid mistake to eat something I didn't know from a person I didn't trust. Still, it would also be stupid not to eat, because you needed to eat to survive. Either way, I was doomed. I frowned. The fact that this woman had a way in also meant she had a way out. None-the-less, I tried reasoning with her again, for my freedom. Holding onto the slither of hope that this woman actually possessed any morals at all. "Please. Help me... I-" I croaked but she interrupted me again.

"I'm sorry. But I can't help you." she retorted, holding her hand up, a sense of anguish in her voice. Her tone tugged at my tears, salty droplets fell from my cheeks onto the dull ache of my wound at my chest. I held my breath for a moment to respond to her. "Why? You're not really going to leave me here, are you? You work for these psychos?" I whispered in horror. There was another hum at the door, my goosebumps rose, and a chill hit me. Oh fuck. The door popped open, and the woman gulped hard in mimic of my own. She scurried back to the door in a panic, like an abused servant would. I lost my breath as two pale, sharply curled horns peeked out behind the slowly opening door. The very two horns that were attached to my stalker. The shadow man.

‘He better not kill this one too quick.' The very words from Damon tugged at my heart, a pain I didn't know humans could feel. He'd come back for me. Was he going to kill me now? I was about to die for sure. My throat narrowed as he stepped into the room. He leant against the wall with his arm splayed, and the woman bolted out the door. Terror and panic raced through my veins, so much so that I could piss myself and not even know it. I was alone with the man that had been stalking me. Alone with the man who had kidnapped me. Masked, tall, muscly, scary, haunting, smelly, and murderous. My body stilled, and I fell to my knees on the carpet, like I had liquified. My chest started to pant heavy. I held my hand at my chest as if it would help catch my breath again, but it didn't.

Was I about to have another panic attack? Please don't let me black out. I braced myself for his approach, but the murderous bastard just stood there. He sported a wicked pair of black shredded jeans, hanging a little too tightly against the V of his hips. Every inch of his flesh was painted black, except for the pale skin peeking under the shreds of the jeans. He blended into the wall. Like a shadow. Except the green glow of his amulet shone against his remarkable toned physique. He was shirtless again. My lips separated, but a breath failed to draw in. With heavy eyes, I trailed them across his torso. His rock-solid torso. Studying him with a creased brow and wandering eyes. I shuddered from the cold shiver that ripped down my spine, like I had been cloaked by spider webs. He took a step toward me, and I forced myself off my knees, scampering backwards with the sheet scrunched firmly in a death grip in my hand.

"No! Stay away. Stay the fuck away, you freak!" I croaked in a terrorised screech between my sobs. I had tried to sound at least a little less weak, like I could fight him if he tried something on me, but it was no different to a little mouse squeak. And I didn't know how to fight or throw a punch. Or yell, as it turns out. He tensed, and the speed of his chest expanding and falling quickened. The hollow note of his breath grew louder as it blew against the metal frame of his mask. Anger? Shit. He tilted his head.

I swallowed hard, and my brain split into the horrifying memory of him at my bedside in the dark of the night, like a bogeyman. His faceless mask has embedded a spot into my brain. He took another step, and the floor between us suddenly felt very thin. Like he was stepping on ice, and I was about to fall through the crack, plummeting to my stone-cold death. My eyes widened from the sensation of the carpet clinging to the bed sheet wrapped around me, tugging as I scurried backwards further, revealing a little more of my skin than he needed to see.

My gasp bounced through the air as he was suddenly standing by my side, crouching so that he was eye to eye with me on the floor, like he had done the night he took me. Be it last night, or last week, or last year. I hadn't a single slither of a clue as to how long I had truly been in this time warp. I stayed still, frozen. I could feel his eyes burning against me, though a better term would be the lack thereof. I couldn't see any eyes. The mask was designed that way, with his eyes hidden completely by the thick layer of mesh behind the skeletal eye holes. It was truly terrifying. He was truly terrifying. I wondered briefly what colour his eyes were, what he really looked like.

Who he was under all the fa?ade, but the thought was quick to stray away. I had too many thoughts in my head scrummaging around to focus on one. And that wasn't one I should have had in my mind anyway. The silence between us was only adding to the panic and terror that hounded me. His stoic calm sent a wave of electric sensations I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Anger and loathing were the first to come to mind, but that didn't even scratch the surface as to what truly was screaming on the inside of this man. He was no different to a slow ticking time bomb, waiting for the right moment to defuse. Fucking chaos. More than any nightmare could comprehend. And one I couldn't wake from. He hovered there for what felt like too long, studying me as I melted into the carpet. Quivering.

Either the theatrics of being slow and antagonizing was his thing, or he was patiently studying what sick fucking things he wanted to do to me. I summoned all the courage I had to finally mutter something out. "W… wh… what do you want from me?" It came out in a gravelly, stuttered squeak. How embarrassing. To be fair, I was only expecting him to reply with ‘Your head on a stick' or ‘Your soul' or something obvious, like what a murderer would say. But he didn't respond, which only made my breath flee my body more. A breath that stunk to no end, evidence of the lack of dental hygiene. I should have brushed my teeth when I"d had the chance earlier, but I was too busy roaming around the room. I smacked my lips shut, mindlessly darting my tongue across the fur of my teeth and the dryness of my mouth. Yuck.

Still, he didn't move. He just observed. Being this close to the mask under the lighting, and him being so still, I had enough time to really observe him. The mouth of his mask was moulded shut. Maybe he was mute? He didn't speak, not even a whisper. Like a shadow. I guess his mask was mouthless for a reason. Was he even real? Thoughtlessly, my hand drifted towards him, completely out of my control. I wanted to touch it, feel the mask.

For a reason I couldn't explain, maybe because I thought I was dreaming. Maybe he wasn't real. I needed to touch it, or him. Yet another intellectual default of mine, the moral compass once again parting my soul. A deep, animalistic growl purred from his chest. His hand snatched my wrist and clamped down hard, enough to leave a dull bruise. A faint shake of his head was enough to send the message. A warning. What the fuck was wrong with me? He moved quickly, throwing himself over me somehow in less than a blink of an eye. His hand wrapped around my throat, hard. The other around both of my wrists. And somehow, I was lying down. What in the ever-loving fuck just happened? I shuddered, I was tiny against him, he was pure power.

He held my arms above my head, as well as the tendrils of my hair locked in his fingers from the grasp he had on my wrists. I dropped my eyes inconspicuously to the tug of my sheet, catching a glimpse that it had wriggled even further down my body. Not enough to free my breasts entirely, but I knew my nipples were teetering right at the fold of the fabric. I gulped, loud against his hand. The sheet was also down far enough that the burn from Ruby was now very visible and for some reason, hurting again. I drew in a sharp breath between my teeth at whatever air I could siphon through his grip. It was not quite tight enough to completely block my airway, but it was enough to send a buzzing sensation to my brain, very similar to the same feeling the night of my twenty-first birthday drinking with Tilly.

He mirrored me, dropping his gaze to where the sheet had fallen to. The mask"s thick horns hovered closer to my face as he shifted his view, tilting his head slightly to my wound. The mask looked like it might be velcroed on. Though I couldn"t be certain as his capes hood was covering the whole piece. At least, now I knew for sure, he was human. His breath picked up pace and he shifted away from my neck.

I gasped for a full chest of air and blew it all out with an embarrassing high-pitched pant as his fingertip trailed my delicate skin, right along the jugular like he had done in my room. Which was inevitably thumping with adrenaline, and something dark. His delicate touch shouldn't have tightened the slither of need where it did, no fucking way it should have. But it did.

He trailed further down, and his finger pressed gently onto the wound, tracing the shape of it firmly. I yelped, and my chest caved in a wince to the pain. Then he did the unthinkable. A predatory, animalistic, purring groan. In response to my pain and suffering. The feared flutter in my stomach triggered the tears to come out harder, and the sick mother fucker let out a singlular, wry, hoarse chuckle. He rolled his neck back, letting the Adam"s apple break free from under the mask. I blinked to free to tears so I could get a clear view of his pale, unpainted, chiselled jawline. It put an immediate stop to my sobs, like I was a deer staring into headlights.

Crap. He was not in any way, shape, or form what I was expecting, for what I had imagined an unidentified, silent, terrifying kidnapper to be anyway. At the very least I envisioned a seedy old man behind the mask, with a sick fetish to rape and kill. But he wasn't old. He was maybe in his thirties at most. And considering he hadn't killed me yet, given the number of times he had the opportunity to, he was… different.

I think, he was dare I say it, attractive. Double crap. He was remarkable. More than attractive. I closed my eyes to his scent that wandered my nose, one that I knew I'd never forget since the first time I had smelled it. Letting the aromas of his erotic lustful musky cologne mixed with the metallic tang of blood, fresh pine, and damp moisture intoxicate me. I fell into memory of him at my bedside again, only this time, I wasn't exactly against the idea of it. Despite the scent of blood.

And that wasn't the most worrying part. The ache between my thighs only grew the more I let the memory raid my brain, so much so that I hadn't noticed he had managed to manoeuvre himself between my legs. And as much as I wanted to tell him to get away from me, to let me go, or plea for my life... I didn't. Okay, seriously, what was wrong with me? I should be screaming for my life. He just poked my wound and laughed at my pain. Why wasn"t I screaming?

He released my wrists, though I kept them where they were, remembering his warning. Don't touch. He balanced himself on one knee and planted his other between the very top of my pubic bone. I quivered, an unidentified man was hovering over me, about to do God knew what to me. But the heated liquid between my slit quickly pulled me into a mindless bliss. The shadow man pressed his knee a little harder against me, eliciting a breathy, pitched moan and another frightful tear from my eye to fall. He splayed both his arms either side of me as he leant further toward my face. Intensifying the scent of him. My chest hurt from panting so hard.

I didn't wriggle an inch, I stayed complacent as he drew in my own scent. He groaned loudly as if I intoxicated his brain in a way I couldn't explain. Even if I tried. Like I was the smell of something he had been missing, longing for. Craving. His chest tightened, and he was suddenly breathing faster. Beads of sweat glistened against the black paint on his chest. Not an ounce of hair was on it other than the trail he had from his belly button, disappearing under the strap of his jeans. A sense of desperation filled the air as his veiny painted hand strayed, his long finger trailing down the arc of my neck again but with a different motive, sending me into an unholy shudder between aroused and terrified. He paused at the wound again before tugging at the sheet.

A gasp ripped from my mouth as his grip quickly yanked a heap of the sheet, pulling it entirely out from underneath me and discarding it half way across the room. I panted heavily underneath him as he leant back slightly to burn his gaze onto my exposed, thick frame. Tears trailed my cheeks again, falling faster along my skin. He was quick to begin prying my thighs apart with his knee. I whimpered from the intrusion of his finger as it brushed through my parted slit. My body temperature skyrocketed again, and the climax that was on edge from earlier was right at my core, ready to explode.

I whimpered and another animalistic growl vibrated from within his chest, only this time, it wasn't from the unthinkable. I don't know why or what had gotten into me but I arched my back with need. I had completely lost control of my body at this point. His finger swirled once at the swollen area of my clit, and colours of the rainbow sparked around me in my brain, an unfamiliar sensation. I almost fell apart for him there and then, making me feel like Jell-O, and instinctively I lifted my hip to meet more of his touch, but his elbow knocked it down and he growled. Fuck, wake up to yourself, Esme. What the fuck has gotten into you?

Had I completely lost my fucking mind? Yes, because I arched my back again and let out a loud panting whimper. "Please, I…" I thoughtlessly begged for a release, but he stopped. No! This was not right. Keep, mouth, shut. He pulled his fingertip from between my folds, leaving a throb in his absence. And didn't that fuck off pretty quick? The cold, jagged edge of his knife pressed against the arc of my pelvis. I gasped and pulled myself back, but he pinned me down with little effort. "No! Please don't." I cried out. This was it. This was the moment I died a slow painful death. He's going to kill me.

I huffed at his strength, though it shouldn"t come as a surprise that this man was a machine. He was not saine, and I was stupid enough to forget that. I was truly in over my head, lost on my own tormented mind fuck of sexual deprivation, curiosity, and unfamiliar desires. I shuddered as his knife trailed along on the apex of my pussy, nausea making me want to vomit, but I hadn"t eating anything yet. The pressure of the blade was not pressed with enough force to push through my labia, nor my skin. But it was enough to remind me that there was something wrong with me, because even though I was fucking terrified, I was still soaking wet.

The shadow man growled; he knew I was aroused. The vibration hummed at my need for him, which caused my body to instinctively lift. And I think he hated that. I think he hated that I liked it. Because he pulled the knife away. His knife met my skin once more, right at the top of my collar bone, and somehow I didn't flinch. He trailed the silver over my skin, and I let him. Hitting a part of my curiosity, recklessness and cryptic thoughts I didn't know I had.

No longer an inch of fear in my body. I groaned from the sensation loudly, this was so fucked up. He hissed at my arousal, the sick fucking freak. Or was I the sick fucking freak for liking it? I felt a warm trickle of moisture where the jagged edge broke my skin and string of curses of what I should say to him ram raided my brain but wouldn't come out. He pressed harder, and the flow of blood trickled down my collarbone, over my arm and onto the carpet. And suddenly, like I had woken up from a nightmare with a pinch, I screamed, and every good feeling I had gone. As was he. The room was empty and the door slammed shut.

What the fuck.