Page 53 of Blue Velvet

Even though I don’t know if that’s what I truly want anymore.

I’m taking the stairs two steps at a time, flying up the stairs so fast that I almost end up running into the wall opposite them when I finally reach the first floor.

I turn to the front door, and am met with the face of a tall man with equally dark eyes as my master’s. He looks to be a few years older, and his hair looks very different. It’s a lighter color and already beginning to turn gray at the temples. He’s not quite as handsome as the man who’s held me captive for the past few weeks, but the similarities are enough for me to believe that I’m standing in front of my master’s brother.

“What the fuck!” the man exclaims when he sees me appear in front of him.

His reaction makes me remember something that I didn’t take into account when I fled up here. I didn’t even think about my appearance. I totally forgot about the collar, the leash, and the fact that I’m barely dressed. I look like a sex slave, even to the untrained eye.

My master closed in on me rather quickly. He emerges right next to me just a moment after I reach the first floor, his hand closing tightly around my upper arm as he pulls me close to him. I let it happen, but my eyes are fixated on the stranger who walked into the house.

“He...,” I stammer, unable to finish the word.

Help me. That’s what I should be saying.He’s kidnapped me, and I’ve been locked up in dungeon basement for the past three weeks. Help me get out of here.

But the words don’t come out of my mouth. For whatever reason, I can’t get myself to say them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” my master barks at the man, still holding me in a tight grip.

The man’s facial expression changes into a sinister smile.

“Holy shit, Loran,” he says, as he slowly approaches us. “What have we here?”

He’s pretty tall, but not as tall as the man who’s been my world for the past three weeks.

The man whose name I just heard for the very first time.

“Loran,” I whisper absently, detaching my eyes from the intruder to look at him instead.

His face is tense. He’s pressing his lips together, and he’s evading my eyes, staring instead at the man who’s coming closer to us. His expression is full of hate and anger.

“What’s this, Loran?” the guy asks, and now I’m looking at him with a similar expression. He’s referring to me as if I was an item, not a person.

“Another little slave you have chained up in here?” he adds, his eyes flickering wickedly.

Despite not being the target of his threatening glare, I find myself worrying. Worrying for my safety just as much as his - Loran’s.

The guy stops right in front of us, my master’s hand still closed around my upper arm and holding me close, as if he was afraid to lose me, while the guy continues glaring at us. His eyes move back and forth between the two of us, until they rest on me. His eyes narrow to evil little slits, and he hisses, “Who are you? What’s your story?”

“Leave her out of this,” Loran growls.

“Leave her out of what?” the guy asks, jutting his chin forward as if to challenge him. “If I’m not mistaken,shewas the one who just fled up the stairs and straight into my arms in search for help?”

He pauses and turns to me. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

A cold shiver of loathing is running down my spine. I can feel both their eyes on me, but Loran’s are the ones I choose to look at. He looks tense and apprehensive, and for good reason. This is my chance, this is why I ran up here, this is what I’ve been waiting for, for weeks.

Then why am I not saying anything? Why am I standing here, biting my lower lip and struggling to say a word, any word.

“Hey, girl, it’s okay,” the intruder says, touching my shoulder. “You can tell me.”

I jerk back from his touch. It feels so much more like a violation than Loran’s hand ever did.

“Fuck girl, I can help you, save you from this maniac,” the guy says, withdrawing his hand and holding it up in defense. “I know what kind of sick bastard he is. Whatever he did to you - you’re safe now. You can tell me.”

My lips part, but the words don’t come out. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been this torn before. There’s a voice inside me, a voice of reason screaming for me not to be an idiot. A voice that knows the sane thing to do would be to tell him the truth, to do what I came up here to do, to call for help, to let him know what’s been going on here - to take this damn chance I thought I’ve been waiting for all along.

But every time I decide to do that, it feels like a clamp closes around my throat. I can’t bring myself to say it. I can’t bring myself to betray the man standing next to me. My master.

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