Page 17 of Golden Burn

I shrug. “Fine.”

She adjusts her stance, sizing me up. “I’m not really in the mood to be raped.”

“And I’m not that kind of man.”

A single hand lifts to rest on her chest like a 1950s southern housewife feigning surprise. “Aren’t you? Oh, how lucky am I?” I hear a distant growl. I think it’s Juniper, or maybe it’s me. Harriet doesn’t notice as she barrels on. “But youarethe type of man to force a woman to marry you. What about our wedding night? Don’t we have to consummate our marriage to satisfy thecontract? Are Ford and Dom going to be our witnesses to our public coupling?”

My feet remain planted. My jaw, however, twitches like crazy. “Touching you is not one of my priorities.”And it never will be.

“Did you forget about how youkidnapped me!?” she squeaks.

“You are legally obliged to fulfill the marriage contract.” I can’t help raising my brow, admonishing her like a petulant child.

“I don’t owe anything to my non-existent father.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice.”

Harriet’s shoulders stiffen. A shield rises in front of her facade as she gathers what little power she has right now. “Just in case you forgot. I remove balls for a living. I know how to do it quickly and I know how to do it slowly. Your choice.” She takes one step forward. Just one. I appreciate the courage it would take to do it.

“Slowly,” I answer. “I want to know how you handle me first.” Perverted, I’ll admit, but it’s difficult not to snap back at her when she bites first.

Harriet blinks in shock, then grimaces. She points her finger at my chest as she says, “If you ever come near me or touch me again, you’ll have to get a matching golden mask to wear under your cock.”

I take a step forward, deeper into the bathroom and closer toward the small, defiant woman. “I find your threats completely and utterly adorable.” She stares at my visible eye. Unflinching. At this moment, she looks more like her father than she ever has before. The only thing that separates the two is the lack of triumph in her gaze. She knows she’ll never win, but at least if she loses, she’ll do so with her posture straight and her face void of fear. I break the contact. “Pack your things. We’re leaving.”

“Where are you taking me?”

I turn, the gold eyepatch on my face catches the light from the bathroom ceiling. “Somewhere else.” I walk out of the bathroom, Dr. Lewis following behind me.

“Why?” she asks.

“It’s not safe here anymore.”

“Why is it not safe?”

I head toward the door despite her nipping at my heels. Once I’m across the threshold, I give her my answer. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

7

Etta

‘Yours to Keep’ - Sticky Fingers

The Scottish countryside is incomparably beautiful.

For the last few hours, I’ve been content to watch the fields and green valleys blanketed with fluffy white snow from behind the car window. After having slept like my life was over, I’m now reinvigorated with a surge of energy. A crisper focus. The fight-or-flight response in my system has been subdued and left to simmer, ready for the next encounter between myself and my soon-to-be husband.

When not listening to Ford and Dom chat idly—Odin barely moves—I’m creating means of escape inside my head, testing ideas, no matter how wild, and disparaging some which would most likely get me and Juniper killed.

My companion sits in the seat between Dom and me, resting her chin on my thighs. My new clothes, which had been delivered right before weleft the impressive apartment complex, are now covered in long needles of fur and droplets of saliva. The scent of both comforts me. The only thing missing is the smell of disinfectant, dog treats, and cat urine.

Juniper’s nostrils flaring, and her chest expanding against my leg, encourage me to be calm when I might otherwise not be.

“Etta. Can I confirm a few things with you?” Dom asks, startling me enough that I jerk. He notices the movement and frowns. It disappears just as quickly as he pulls out his laptop and begins to type.

“Your belongings have been collected from your house and put into storage. Since we travel quite frequently, it would be best to keep it there until the day you decide to choose a place to settle down in.” My sides twist painfully at the idea of ‘settling down’ with my own kidnapper. “In the meantime, I’ll get basic things like clothes, choice in hygiene products, and any other entertainment items delivered to you.” He passes me a pen and paper.

What, he just wants me to write a list?

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