Page 68 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 34

Malia

He doesn't bring me back to the same room I was in before, confusing me with a sudden turn to the left as we reach the third floor of the mansion. We don't encounter anyone else on our way upstairs, but I can hear voices coming from behind a few closed doors—one of them leading to the room where Lailah is resting.

A shudder of discomfort travels down my spine as I recall my conversation with her. She looks more like death than life, but even in this weakened state, there was a vigor in her that made my blood freeze. She's just as ruthless as these men are, and she wouldn't take no for an answer when I tried to explain to her that I'm not up to this task. Conspiracy was flickering in her black eyes when she shared Nate's secret with me. She said I needed to know to have a chance at surviving this whole ordeal, but I'm beginning to think she only did it because she wanted to share the burden of that knowledge.

Or because she wanted to hand me a weapon to use against Nate. Her words were conflicting when it comes to him. On one hand, she insisted that I could trust him not to hurt me, on the other, she warned me to be careful with him.

What should I make of this?

My nervous heart makes another sudden jump when Nate opens one of the doors lining the corridor we were walking through. He waits for me to enter the room first and then closes the door behind us right away. I flinch when I hear the lock clicking.

It's another bedroom, but the nicest I've seen since I was dragged away from my hotel room. A big canopy bed with anthracite silk sheets and a black frame is pushed against the wall to my right, three large windows revealing a beautiful view across the neighborhood outside. It's dark outside, and it fills me with solace to see the lights of other houses so close by. Light means other people, other people mean hope.

Hope that is quickly cast aside when Nate moves in front of me, closing the heavy drapes in front of the windows to shield us from the outside world.

"You're going to punish me," I state, my voice low and apathetic, even though my pulse is racing.

He turns to me, an ominous smile on his face. He walks slowly toward me with his hands buried in the pockets of his dark jeans.

"Punish you for what?"

His eyes are unyielding. "For calling you dumb, which I totally didn't mean by the way, and-"

"Hush," he cuts me off, placing his finger on my lips.

I glare up at him. My lips tremble, almost as if they are trying to keep the words from escaping. He removes his finger, but his eyes linger on me, locking me in place as if he was just waiting for me to continue my hurried monologue. But I'm smarter than that. I won't get myself into any more trouble than I already am—and for something so mundane, too! It's almost as if he's just looking for an excuse to humiliate me again, like he did that one night, with the rope....

I blush at the memory, unable to ignore the way my core tingles at the thought of it. The rope between my legs, his hand teasing me at my most intimate place, the yearning for him to touch me, the shame of begging for him to go further, only to be rejected a moment later.

That long night with the rope cutting into the sensitive flesh between my legs, that very long night when I could neither sleep nor move, trapped with my desperately confusing thoughts.

I remain still as he walks over to the other side of the room, reaching inside a large, black duffle bag. I've seen that bag before, and while I should be prepared for it, my breath hikes in shock when I see the rope in his hand.

"Please," I utter. "Please don't-"

"Hush."

His command is harsher this time, his voice loud and unforgiving. And it does the job. My lips are sealed when he comes back to me, unraveling the rope before my eyes.

"I don't know why you're fighting this," he says. "We both know you liked it. Don't you remember?"

The heat on my cheeks almost turns unbearable when he probes me with this intense gaze now. It's as if he's looking right into my soul, the odd golden speckles in his gray eyes so prominent now that it almost looks surreal.

"I did not enjoy that night," I insist, sucking in a sharp breath when he moves closer, crowding me with his height.

I can feel the warmth of his body close to mine, his hands still moving slowly as he handles the rope.

"I promise I'll be nicer this time."

His voice is laced with an undertone that makes me quiver, a sinister note that is a promise as much as it is a threat.

"Undress."

I shake my head. "No."

His right eyebrow arches up and he tilts his head to the side.

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