Taken by Lies (Truth or Lies 1)

“Kai, wake up!” I scream as I roll her over onto her back.

Ice. Her body shoots off frosty sparks through my warm body. She’s as bone-chilling as I remember, possibly colder. I shudder for a second as her cool combines with my fire causing the hair on my arm to stand as goosebumps form.

I survey her, looking for any sign of the injury that would have caused her to collapse and not wake up. But other than the bruise that was already covering her eye, I don’t see any visible head injury.

And then I watch her chest rising and falling. She must have knocked herself unconscious when she fell. I know I shouldn’t move her, but I can’t keep her lying on the bare floor. She needs a bed; she needs sleep and food. She needs medical support and therapists to heal, but I’m not sure I’m willing to let anyone else see or touch her even to help her. She’s mine.

Gently, I cradle her head and scoop up her legs. Having her in my arms does something primal to my body. It arouses an urge I haven’t felt since the last time I kissed her. I feel alive even though her skin prickles mine—a steady, calmness pulses from her thin veins to my thicker cords. I feel more settled and more urgent at the same time. An awakening builds inside as my stomach clenches at what I let happen to this beautiful woman in my arms; she still seems like a girl to me in so many ways.

“What are you doing to me, Kai?” I whisper into her ear.

Her breathing is still slow and constant in my arms.

“Sir?” Westcott asks with concern in his eyes.

“She’s breathing. I think she just collapsed from exhaustion. Is the master bedroom ready?”

He nods.

“I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No,” my voice cuts through the room. I won’t have anyone take her away from me. Not now.

I rush past him to the bedroom I usually occupy when I’m staying here. This is my favorite house out of all the ones I own. If I can’t be on the sea, then I’ll take this beach house as a close second. But I just got back last night and slept at the club before coming here. None of my stuff is here or unpacked.

Kai can have the master; I’ll take one of the spares, I decide as I climb the stairs to the second floor. She doesn’t stir the entire time I hold her.

I kick open the door to the spacious master bedroom. An oversized white canopy bed sits against the far wall with white linen sheets giving off a beach vibe as it gets the perfect view of the ocean out the floor to ceiling windows—one of the windows pushes out as a concealed door leading out to the private balcony. There isn’t much else in this bedroom. I like to keep everything simple and elegant. Only a door impedes the bare walls and leads to the deluxe bathroom suite where the walk-in closet is.

This room will serve as the perfect gilded cage for Kai. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with her yet. Killing her would be the easiest, but as I’ve already determined from our last encounter, I can’t kill this girl. Locking her away is the next best thing to ensure I keep my power. This room isn’t exactly a prison, but to her, it will feel like one.

I carefully lay her down on top of the covers on the bed. A quiet moan escapes her lips, but otherwise, she doesn’t stir.

I walk quickly to my closet that is always filled with the basics for when I stay here and pull out one of my shirts for her to sleep in before I return to her side.

She’s still breathing, still knocked out when I return.

So I begin the slow, torturous work of removing her sweater and jeans. Her feet are already bare, filthy from spending days walking barefoot, swollen, and covered in deep lesions. The only parts of her body I can see are her hands, feet, and face—and if they are any indication of what lies beneath her clothes, I’m not sure I can bear it.

I pull her sweater up her smooth stomach attentively as I’m not sure what I will reveal.

I’m not a squeamish man, but when I see the cuts, bruises, and scars marking her skin, I want to hurl. I force myself to stay put and continue removing the sweater from her frozen, defeated body. I finally get the sweater over her head, and I lose my mind.

What the fuck did Jarod do to you?

What did I do?

I thought death was the worst thing that could have happened to Kai, my pretty girl, but I was wrong. This—this is the worst thing anyone could ever experience.

Every inch of her skin is covered in her anguish and pain.

Scars.

Bruises.

Cuts.

All of her is broken.