Claimed

Her ass and thighs still stung from the beating, and the wound on her calf was itching like crazy, but at least there was some give in the chains. When he’d gone out earlier that morning, he’d cuffed her wrists directly to one of the posts and left her that way, with her arms uncomfortably over her head.

She could hear him moving about in the kitchen of the small cabin, whistling while he clanked pots and slammed cabinet doors. The smell of fresh brewing coffee and sizzling bacon reached her nostrils, and she realized she was starving, the handful of crackers and cheese he’d given her the day before only a distant memory.

They’d gone to bed soon after her bath. James had insisted on drying her, and then re-bandaging her leg. He’d even insisted on brushing her teeth, forcing her to place her hands behind her head while he did so. She’d wanted to scream. She’d wanted to hit him. Instead she’d stood there, passive and unresisting, too afraid of him to protest.

Once in bed, James had wrapped her in a bear hug and pulled her close against his bare chest. Though he had fallen quickly asleep, Kelsey lay awake a long time in his tight embrace, plotting how she might escape. She needed to pretend to play along. She had to stop balking as she had been doing, as hard as that would be. She had to lull him into a false sense of security, enough so he would let his guard down, at least a little. Then she would find something she could use as a weapon. He’d brought the gun with him, after all. Maybe he’d brought the bullets too. There was that pocket knife he’d produced to cut the switch, or she could get hold of a kitchen knife.

If you’d asked her a week before if she could cut someone with a knife, she would have insisted she could not. Now, however, she knew she could—and would. She would slit the bastard’s throat while he slept, grab his car keys and hightail it the hell out of there.

She didn’t think she would sleep at all that night, but somehow she had, because she woke to find James standing over her, his hair wet from a shower, a small towel wrapped around his waist. She could see by the pale pink color of the sky outside the window that it was barely dawn.

He’d let her pee, though he stood there watching like the creep he was, and refused even to let her wipe herself, instead reaching his hand between her legs with a wad of toilet paper. “Though I have forgiven you for trying to kill me,” he informed her as he pulled her to her feet, “you are still in disgrace. It’s up to you how fast you win back basic privileges. You’re going to need to show me that you are repentant and ready to obey me. Is that understood, Kelsey?”

She’d made the mistake of staring at him, open-mouthed with dismay and disbelief. That had earned her a slap across the face and a stern reminder. “How do you address me? Let’s try again.” James had glared at her and then repeated, speaking slowly as if to a stupid child, “Is that understood, Kelsey?”

“Yes, sir,” she’d managed through gritted teeth.

Now James came into the bedroom carrying an old-fashioned TV tray with its own metal stand. Kelsey had to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth at the sight of the plate heaped with food, and her empty stomach roiled with anticipation. He sat the tray on its stand beside the bed. There was a mug of steaming coffee, a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and a bowl of something gray and gloppy.

“Ready for breakfast?” James asked with a smile.

I’m ready to fucking kill you. “Yes, please, sir,” Kelsey managed, her taste buds already anticipating the salty crunch of the bacon and the soft, buttery-looking eggs.

“I’ll remove the chains if you promise to behave. Do you promise?”

“Yes, sir.”

Using a small key, he unlocked the cuffs and pulled them from her wrists. He put his arms supportively around her as she sat up, and she had to resist the strong urge to elbow him away. Let him think she was weaker than she was.

He sat beside her and reached for the mug of coffee, which she now saw was black. There was no second mug. He took a sip and set it back down. He picked up a piece of bacon and bit off half of it. He scooped up a forkful of eggs and shoveled it into his mouth. He continued to eat without looking at her. Kelsey’s mouth continued to water as she waited impatiently for him to give her some.

Finally he looked at her, but instead of offering her bacon and eggs, he picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl. He brought a spoonful of thick oatmeal to Kelsey’s lips. Kelsey felt her gorge rise and she pressed her lips together, angling her head away. The spoon followed her, a blob of the warm cereal falling onto her thigh.