Page 14 of Pure Vengeance

“She’s a smart one.” He chuckles.

“I’ll be sure she never misses a dose.” Even if I have to administer the medication myself every morning.

“She’s missed two already, so I wouldn’t put off the next one any longer than needed,” he warns as he reaches for the door. “She also told me about the beating.”

“The spanking?” I correct.

“Yes. That.” He opens the door. “She’s definitely tender, so let’s hope she doesn’t get herself into any more trouble today. Yes?” He eyes me with the same look my mother used to give me as a young boy when she wanted me to put on my best behavior.

“I’m sure she’ll be an exemplary captive the rest of her stay.” I chuckle.

“Me too.” He heads out, jogging down the steps to his car already waiting for him at the bottom.

We both know that’s not going to happen.

The woman has spirit.

And as much as I admire it. As much as her beauty makes me want to touch her, lick her, and make her squirm beneath me. I have to remember one thing.

She tried to kill me.

And for that, she must pay.

CHAPTER SIX

Claire

A purple splotch stares back at me in the mirror. The size of a half dollar, the bruise sits perfectly where my ass meets my thighs. And is the reason every time I try to sit on the chair in the bedroom I’m locked in, there’s discomfort.

At least the monster didn’t mark me as much as I’d feared. When I first raised my dress up to see the mess he’d made of me with his belt, I’d expected angry welts and bruises, maybe even some bleeding.

But no. Just three little bruises, the largest being the one I poke at.

“You haven’t changed your clothes.” Anton’s deep voice echoes in this massive bathroom. This one room is larger than my kitchen in my apartment. Along with the stand-up shower, there’s a jacuzzi tub and a double vanity.

I shove the dress back down and spin around to find him leaning against the door frame. A lazy smile settles on his lips.

For a moment, my breath catches. This insane attraction I have to him has to stop. He’s my captor. He’s my brother’smurderer. This tingly feeling in the pit of my stomach when I see him has to fade.

“I had clothes brought up for you. Why aren’t you changed?” he asks, this time, his eyes wander over my body.

“I don’t want your clothes. Or your hospitality. I want to go home.”

He lifts his left shoulder. “That’s too bad. Don’t ask me again, Claire. You did this. When you aimed that gun at me last night, you chose this.”

“I didn’t choose to be your captive or your punching bag,” I blurt.

What little smile that lingers on his lips fades at my comment.

“I don’t punch women. Not even ones that deserve it.” He lifts an eyebrow.

“How nice of you. You’ll kill a man in cold blood, but you draw the line at punching a woman.”

He cocks his head.

“You’re mad that I won’t punch a woman?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Of course not. That’s not… Just let me go home!” I stomp my foot, immediately regretting it as the cut on my heel screams in retaliation.

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