Page 23 of Fearless

“Jesus suffering Christ!” He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and runs both hands through his hair. “Here I thought you’d hurt yourself, and you try to take my fucking eyes out,” he mutters.

He turns to me, and does a double take when he sees I’m looking at him. “Are you done?”

My chest stutters through one breath after the other as I try and claw myself back to reality.

“Mind telling me what the fuck just happened?”

I glance around a bit, and blink a tear from my eyes. Then I shrug a little and push out a soft, “Sowwy,” around my gag.

He reaches up and touches the tip of his thumb to his cheekbone. It comes back dotted with black. When he twists to face me, I see a drop of blood welling on the tiny cut beneath one eye.

Oh my God. Did I do that?

I try and spit out the gag and get halfway before Cillian shoves it back in my mouth.

“No you don’t, princess,” he mutters, frowning hard at me. “That’s not coming out until you’ve calmed the fuck down.”

Then he gets to his feet and stretches out his neck. “And now I need a cigarette. Two years since I quit—ruined.” His voice trails away as he crosses the room, and then he disappears behind the closet.

Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creak.

Stairs. He’s going upstairs.

My mind switches into overdrive. I use my tongue to push the gag out of my mouth as I strain for the smallest sound.

A faint screech of a metal door. If I can get out of these fucking straps—

I yank with all my might on the straps holding me in place. He only got one ankle and one wrist tied up, which is why I could buck and squirm like a fish out of water.

For a second, I’m frozen in place.

I remember waking up unbound.

When did he come inside? When did he strap me down? Did I blackout again?

What did he do while I was unconscious? Did he—

No. No!

I can’t even consider shit like that right now. He’s gone, and that’s all that matters.

Not like last time, Meisie, my fucking shrink croons in my head.Alex knocked you out and tied you up and cut off your panties with a kitchen knife. Do you remember that, dear, or are you still suppressing that memory? Why don’t we go back to the night—

“Fuck!” I grit out through clenched teeth.

Not again.

Not fucking ever!

I yank at my restraints, and my heart leaps into my throat when I realize the straps are tightened by giant buckles and not something that requires a key. The gag finally slips out of my mouth, and I haul in a ragged breath as I desperately work at the buckle.

Hurry! Before he gets back.

My wrist slips out of the leather cuff. I scoot down the bed and yank open the buckle securing my ankle while my skin tries to crawl one way and my flesh the other.

My bare feet hit a rug and, two steps later, a cold concrete floor.

I race over to the closet. As I’m about to turn the corner, I hear the distant sound of footsteps.

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