Page 14 of Unhinged

“Not right now, little bird.”

She growls in frustration, and I smile.

“Are you a little bird or an angry cat?” I pull back and gaze at her, noticing the irritation in her sky-blue eyes.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asks.

I take a step back, and her gaze dips to the thick outline of my cock, pressing through the tight gray sweatpants I’m wearing. “What am I doing, Alice?”

“Teasing me,” she breathes, her eyes still fixed on the outline of my cock. “Please, Taren.”

I arch a brow. “Why do you want it?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t explain it.”

“Then I can’t fuck you, little bird.” I tilt my head. “Not like this. Not here.”

Alice’s brow furrows. “Then when?”

“When you open your heart to me.”

She looks even more confused.

“I need you to understand that this isn’t purely physical,” I add.

Her chest rises and falls with deep breaths. “That makes no sense. You don’t know me.”

I smirk. “I beg to differ. I might not know your favorite color or the type of music that makes your heart flutter, but I’ve seen your soul bare, felt the depths of your passion, and the rawness of your vulnerability. I know the rhythm of your heartbeat and the taste of your unspoken words.” I move closer, stroking her cheek. “Now it’s time for us to part.”

I grab her wrist, pull her back to the cell, and open the door. And before I push her inside, I pull her against me one last time to memorize her feel and scent. A mixture of sweet vanilla essence and a natural, earthy fragrance that’s uniquely hers. “Don’t forget me,” I breathe, kissing her cheek. “Goodbye for now.” I shut the door and lock her away.

And then I walk away, feeling trapped in a cage of my making. It’s a labyrinth, an inescapable maze of contrarieties in which I find myself, a prisoner no less bound than Alice in her cold, steel cage.

6

TAREN

The siren of the alarm clock assaults my ears. It wasn’t necessary to set it this morning as I haven’t slept at all. Thoughts of Alice have consumed my mind since the day I set eyes on her, and with our trip to Mexico City looming, sleep was an impossibility. The storm within me is impossible to tame.

As I turn over in the bed, my cock throbs incessantly. It’s been like this since we met, but I ignore it. Instead, I grab my cell phone from the nightstand and open the security camera app.

And there she is. My little bird. She sleeps on a hay bale in the corner of the cell, looking perfectly peaceful considering her situation. I often watch her when I’m alone, basking in her strength.

Her beauty is an enigma, a riddle wrapped in the mystery of a moonlit night. It’s like a cryptic sonnet penned by a long-forgotten bard, every line a testament to her grace, yet each stanza a testament to the paradox of her existence. Like a beautifully crafted cipher, her beauty is as alluring as puzzling. It enthrals and ensnares me yet leaves me yearning for the key to decode it.

“I will crack you, my little bird,” I murmur before shutting off the screen and tossing the phone onto the nightstand.

It’s been three days since my last visit to her cell, three days since she begged me to make her feel again. Trying to stay away has been hell, but today is the day. We’ll spend over twenty-four hours in each other’s presence. We won’t be entirely alone. Ileana wouldn’t let me go into the lion’s den without backup. Alex will be on the trip, but I’m not worried about him. He can’t wait to hit the strip clubs of Mexico City and told me so himself.

The one-week holding period for the girls is almost up. Which means they’ll soon learn the full extent of the horror they’ve fallen into. Ileana has a rule that all prisoners must be left in solitude with little food and water for a week before we either start their training program or torture, depending on who the prisoner is.

A technique specifically designed to break a prisoner’s spirit before we even start to work on them. It’s amazing what solitude can do to a person, but the difference with these girls is they’ve had each other. Something Ileana doesn’t normally allow, but we’re low on holding space.

The jet will take off at eleven o’clock from a private runway in Ensenada, at least one hour’s drive from here, so I need to get ready. And then I need to collect my little bird.

I’m unsure what Alice and her friends were thinking about vacationing to a dangerous part of Mexico. There are a lot of cheap resorts, but if that’s the reason, they risked their lives for a cheap holiday, which is true madness. And they say I’m as mad as a hatter.

I climb out of bed and head for the adjoining bathroom, turning on the shower and leaning over the sink counter while waiting for the water to warm. Alice is a distraction I don’t need. Everything I’ve been planning for years is so close I can taste it, yet she clouds my judgment.

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