I’m hoping they’ll help me. I’m hoping I can scream and maybe they’ll call the cops.
I blinked. “I was just wondering.”
“Don’t wonder.” Cain went to my left wrist, untied the ribbon, and freed my hand. “Since we’re asking questions and getting answers, where’s the meeting spot?”
I watched him untie the right hand. “I’ll tell you on the fourth day.”
“I hope that’s a wise decision.” He freed my right hand.
Right as I was about to stretch it, he grabbed the hand and yanked me to him. “Remember. On the fourth day, you will take my brothers and me to the meeting spot?”
So those two guys are his brothers.
“Of course.” I straightened myself and fully sat up.
He frowned. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
My stomach growled. “A little.”
He moved his hands to my ankles and undid those satin ribbons. “You should have some herbal tea first.”
With this day ahead of me, I would rather get a shot of alcohol. Two shots.
When my ankles were free, I moved my feet around as if feeling my body for the first time.
This is my life for the next four days.
The whole moment was surreal. I’d gone through immense amounts of stress yesterday—from thinking I was going to die to being cut to orgasming and sucking off a complete stranger.
My emotions spun around like a tornado.
He tenderly grabbed my chin and put my view on him. “You were amazing last night.”
That was the last thing I thought he would say.
Visions of last night flashed in my head. My body heated from those thoughts.
He lifted his finger to my bottom lip and outlined it. “I know you felt fear and pain, but did you feel pleasure?”
“You know I did.”
He quirked his brows again. “How would I know?”
“I came hard and loud.”
He grinned. “I’m sure I’m not the first man to do that.”
“But. . .”
“But what?”
“But that orgasm was more intense. . .stronger. . .”
A fierce possessiveness filled his eyes. “We’ll have to explore that more later.”
I shuddered in desire. The sensation shocked me. I shouldn’t have been turned on by him.
What is wrong with me?
My eyes watered.
I’m the very definition of wrong.
I moved my face from his fingers and looked at the wall that hid the soul coffin.
I’ll never be able to forget that shit.
He touched the side of my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I was already fucked up.” My eyes watered more. “Now. . .”
“Now what?”
A tear spilled from my eye. “Now there’s probably no saving me.”
He took my chin and brought my view back to me. “That’s not fair to you or the strong spirit that resides within that beautiful body.”
“I. . .don’t even know. . .why I’m crying.”
He grinned. “I can think of a few reasons.”
I sniffled.
“It’s perfectly fine for you to cry right now.”
“I don’t care.” I wiped my eyes. “It’s a waste. Tears won’t help me.”
He let go of my chin. “Describe your feelings right now?”
“I don’t want to.”
He sneered. “Describe them”
“I feel emotional and usually, I’m not. . .like that.” I wiped more tears from my cheeks. “I’m a rock. I don’t cry.”
“Why not?”
I rubbed under my nose. “Because life isn’t that bad to be sitting around whimpering and shit.”
A dark chuckle left him. “What?”
“I mean. . .” I shrugged. “If shit is bad, then I just need to fix it or go. I don’t need to sit around and cry about it like a fucking baby. Tears don’t do anything but keep you there and in the fucked up situation.”
He watched me with interest. “Crying is a natural response.”
“But is it necessary?”
“I’ve always believed so.” He raised his hand to my hair and then ran his fingers through it, brushing the tips against my scalp.
Shocked at how good it felt, I let my head fall back and sighed in relief.
What’s going on with me?
My mind said jerk away.
My aching soul begged me to welcome the soothing.
Slowly, he ran his fingers through my hair. “Crying can come from deep sadness.”
I shivered, but couldn’t explain why. Instead, I leaned in his hand’s direction, needing more of his touch. Yearning for more soft, feathery strokes.
“Tears come from grief too.” He shifted his movements to more relaxing massaging, tenderly combing and kneading his fingertips along my scalp.
The soft movements delivered warmth through me.
“Tears can also come from extreme happiness and joy.”
I shook my head. “I’ve never cried from being happy.”
“Then you’ve never truly been happy.”
For some reason that made more tears spill from my eyes. They burst from me. I was so embarrassed. I rushed to wipe them away with both hands.
“Stop.” He grabbed my hands hard and placed them back in my lap. “Let them go. Just cry.”
“I don’t want to.” My vision blurred from the tears. My breathing picked up. My chest rose and fell as if I was running.
He never released my hands as he whispered, “Slowly breathe.”