Taken (Dark Legacy Duet 1)

He rises to his feet and grips my hair and kisses me hard. All I can taste is myself. Me on his tongue, his face. My scent clinging to him.

And then, a moment later, he stops, draws back. “What happened to you fighting me?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “Where’s the fight you promised?” His voice is low, deep, mocking.

“Let me down from here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my pocket knife, opens it. He holds out his arm, and I watch him slice his skin, just below the crease of his elbow.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“My notch.”

He doesn’t even flinch. Just closes the knife and looks at me. Any humor is gone from his eyes. He doesn’t say a word as he pockets it and turns to walk away.

“Where are you going?” I yell after him, tugging at the restraints which seem to tighten as I struggle. “Sebastian!”

He stops, turns.

“I have a meeting,” he says, making a point of checking his watch. “And as for what I’m doing, I’m being gentle with you, considering the caning you endured. Think of this as what you’re owed for all the back talk, the bad behavior. I forget nothing, and I forgive nothing, not without punishment, Helena. Think about that as you spend a few hours here and thank your lucky stars this is all I’m doing.”

“Come back! You can’t leave me here like this. Come back, damn it!”

But he doesn’t even look back. He just walks on, crosses the pool and disappears into the house.8HelenaIt’s nightfall before I finally hear footsteps behind me, but when I turn, a new panic grips me when I see it’s not Sebastian but Gregory. He’s walking purposefully toward me, and I wonder when he got back to the island. If they’re all back.

He’s wearing a suit, the jacket still on, and when he reaches me, he stops, takes stock of my situation, and slips his jacket off his shoulders.

I don’t know what to expect with him, but I’m not exactly in a position where I have much choice, so when he sets the jacket over my shoulders and wraps a strong arm around my middle before reaching up to undo the cuffs, all I can do is try to stand on my own legs, which aren’t cooperating. My arms are worse, though. They’re limp. I can’t even manage to slap him away.

“Where’s Sebastian?”

“He asked me to take you to your room. Stop struggling.”

“I can walk.”

“No, you can’t. You can’t even stand. How long did he have you out here?”

“All afternoon.”

He makes a disapproving sound and carries me into the house and up to my room.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

I’m embarrassed, but I nod.

He walks me inside, and I try to squirm away. “I can do this part.”

He ignores me and walks me to the toilet, sets me on it, then turns and walks out, closing the door behind him. I pee and with some effort, manage to clean myself. I stagger to the sink and am washing my hands when he opens the door and holds out an oversized T-shirt.

“What’s that for?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to sit around naked but if you’d rather—”

“No.” Then, “I don’t have clothes,” I say stupidly.

He helps me to the chaise. My knees keep giving out, and I need his help.

“Can you lift your arms?” he asks.

I try but shake my head. He takes one arm at a time and dresses me like he would a child. It feels strange to have him do this. Almost intimate. And as soon as he slips the shirt over my head, I realize it’s his. I can smell him on it.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m not. I’m just taking care of what’s ours.”

He sits down beside me and pulls the table closer. He picks up the glass of water and brings it to my lips.

I drink greedily, parched. When the glass is empty, he sets it down, picks up the spoon, and scoops up some soup. He brings it to my mouth, and I hesitate.

“What do you think? I’m going to poison you?”

I don’t, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? I understand my brother. Just eat.”

I open my mouth and drink the broth soup. It’s good. So good.

“Can I have some wine?” I ask after finishing half the soup.

He puts the spoon down and pours me a glass of wine from the bottle. It’s a rich, warming red, and it’s exactly what I need.

“Thank you.”

He nods. We don’t talk while he spoon-feeds me the rest of the soup and the glass of wine.

“You know, you all act like I should just get over it already and be a good little whipping girl but put yourself in my place. How would you be if you were taken against your will and made a prisoner? If you were treated like I am here? I’m alone. Completely alone.”