Page 9 of Claiming Sarah

“Yes, adopted mother to a Lauren Bell,” he finishes for me. Shock mingles with the fear in my veins. I blink unshed tears away, commanding them not to fall. So he’s working for Xavier. A stalker wouldn’t be concerned about my daughter if I’m their obsession. I trusted Xavier to an extent. If he cared for Lauren, then why the fuck would he have me kidnapped?

I can’t help but wonder, who’s the hired muscle? And he’s definitely male. There’s no hiding those broad shoulders, vascular hands and Adam’s apple. The color black can do a lot of things—make people appear thinner—but it can’t disguise the opposite sex.

“Did you hurt her?” I gasp out, my hand flying to my chest. That little girl who demanded very little, withdrawn and quiet in the first days, wrapped both hands around my heart. I cannot lose her, not like this.

Caught in my distress, I didn’t hear him approach, eyes fixated on the black biker boots. I jump back when he kneels, bringing his eyes level with mine through the mask on his face.

Plastic molded into the shape of sharp cheekbones, a sinister toothy grin, and eye hole cutouts, showing startling blue eyes looking into mine. His eyes trap me, blocking out the vision of the serpent coiled around him.

It occurs to me they look eerily familiar, like staring into the eyes of Satan’s twin. Instinctively, I know this man is neither Zaine nor Xavier Lasher. There’s a wildness to him they lacked, his pupils jumping.

Is he Z? And what the fuck does he want with me?

If he’s anything like the twins, I’m so fucked, caught in the snare of a psychopath.

7

EAT

ZAIDEN

She’s as pretty as I remember , wide eyes racing across my mask. Hair dark as midnight reflects the low recessed lights in the ceiling. Alabaster skin that stains with color easily, giving away more than she thinks. Firecracker. Like those black cat fireworks I used to set off in my room, causing the smoke alarm to blare. My lips turn down, remembering that eventually those couldn’t wake my mother up anymore.

“Mom,” I cried, shaking her unconscious form. “Please, wake up. I need you to wake up.”

Blinking the fragmented memory away, I refocus on Dr. Bell’s eyes. They draw me in the most, deciding that green that rivals grass is my new favorite color.

“Beautiful,” I croak, bringing a hand to touch a section of hair resting on her shoulders. She jerks away from me, reminding me I spoke without turning the voice changer on.Fuck. Maybe she’s a witch.

With my free hand, I push the button on the voicechanger while the other floats in the air, still yearning for a brush of her dark strands.

“Drink the shake, Dr. Bell,” I order her, steeling myself. If she doesn’t obey, she’ll need to be punished. She’ll learn the rules. Eventually.

“Break her.”

“Feed her.”

A stubborn tilt lifts Dr. Bell’s chin and her emerald eyes narrow on me. Her defiance send bloods flowing faster, pooling below my waist. Fighting the instinct to look down, I grit my teeth, not commenting on her visual refusal, and waiting for the next words out of her pouty lips.

“Fuck you,” she enunciates, pink lips puffing out dramatically. Oh, she’s a hellcat, alright. She can’t see the smile beneath my mask, sweat dotting my brow and dripping down my hoodie. If she won’t eat willingly, then I’ll have to connect a fucking tube and feed her that way.

“Feed. Feed. Feed.”

Shut up, I command the voice repeating phrases in my head.

Hindsight’s a bitch and I blended Sarah’s food for this very scenario. Rising to my feet, sorrow tugs at my heart. Not even the delicious drag of Sheba’s scales across my neck could dull the ache.

A part of me truly wishes she’d cooperate. But in time, she’ll see things my way. Never breaking eye contact, I take a step back. And another. And another until the door touches my back.

“Don’t leave her. Stay.”

“Play.”

Her nostrils flare every step, eyes cataloging everything. Dr. Bell is an intelligent woman. All of her colleagues said the same when I questioned them, patiently waiting for their answer and for them to take their last breath. A gas mask adorned my face as I pumped carbon monoxide intothe very room she’s sitting in now. Dr. Moore and Dr. Anders were the exceptions, earning a different death from their colleagues.

Turning my back on her, fully expecting her to throw her meal at me, I wonder if she can feel the ghosts of her coworkers in the room as I lock the deadbolt behind me.

SARAH

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