“Pacing,” I said, meeting his eyes. I’d only walked around the room, dragging my hand across the wall. I probably looked like a mental patient. “I’m bored.”
He reached out as if to touch me, but stopped. “Don’t worry. Your time is almost up.”
Alarmed, my eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“It means enjoy your boredom. I came to ask if you have any request for a last meal.”
Was I a dead woman kneeling? The idea of food made me nauseous now. I was out of time.
“I’ll choose for you,” he said, straightening.
He left, and I felt sick. There was no more time. I picked up my chain and moved to the other side of the room where the chain met the wall. Then I sat and let my eyes follow the four corners of the wall in search of a hiding place for a camera. I noticed nothing. Still, I shifted my position to hide what I was about to do.
My fingers roved over the screws that bolted the chain in place. I stuck one manicured nail into the head of one of the screws, determined to loosen it. My nail broke instead. I tried another, using another nail with the same result.
I was about to give it one more shot when a voice came from above, scaring the crap out of me.
“And here I thought you’d learned your lesson.”
My hands fisted as I waited for what would come next. I hadn’t heard him come in. Had he ever left? No. I saw him leave. Had he purposely let me hear his approach the other times and used his stealth to catch me?
“Get to your feet.” He sounded like a drill sergeant I’d seen on TV.
With no hesitation, I did, keeping my head faced away. That left me facing the wall. He crowded me. “You’re a brat,” he said, slipping the hair away from my face. I felt all of him pressed against me, including his very real arousal. He lifted my hand and splayed it next to my face. “Look what you’ve done.” The only thing wrong was that I’d destroyed my free manicure. “If you were mine, I’d bend you over my knee.” He stepped back. “But our time is up. You are being sold.”
“What?” I cried.
“You’ll wish for me in the end.” He bent down quickly, and then my leg was free.
“Bastard,” I said, as there was no reason to call him King. I looked at the door to the hall and it was closed. Running would be a bad thing if that door was locked.
“Get cleaned up, and if you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”
I jerked out of his embrace, no longer caring what would happen. I marched to the bathroom and faced him. He stood there with a bottle of something and a towel. I took it from him and pivoted away. Angry tears fell from my eyes, and I didn’t want him to see.
“You can go,” I said with my back to him.
“Why would I do that?”
I turned the water on. “You’re the devil,” I cried.
Part of me wanted him to react. At least I had some idea of what to expect with him. Who I was being sold to was something worse to fear. What would my fate be?
“You want me to punish you, little bird. You’re a bratty little submissive who wants to be put in her place. The fun I could have had breaking you. You’ll wish you were better to me if you end up with a sadist.”
I ignored him, got in and took a shower as he watched. As much as I wanted to be bratty, I didn’t think I could take having his hands on me. My mind had already dreamed up what it would be like. Is this what Stockholm syndrome felt like? It couldn’t be it. I hadn’t been his captive long enough to need or want him in that way, or had I?
Yet, there was a terrible attraction I felt. It was wrong on every level but there. I scrubbed myself hard to wash away all the bad girl thoughts I had about a man who was about to sell me to what… the highest bidder? I did not know.
When I was done, he handed me my clothes. The clothes I’d been wearing the day he’d taken me. I had no idea where they’d come from. But I’d kept my head facing away from him. He’d likely walked away while I was in the shower without me knowing. The man moved like a ghost.
“Do you need my help?” he asked, sounding sarcastic.
“No,” I snapped.
“Your face is flushed. Your nipples are tight. You want me to fuck you so bad, you’re pissed about it.”
Facing him, I glared, embarrassed by the truth of his words, and he laughed. The dark, rich laughter of a man secure he was right every time he spoke.