Page 13 of Soul Of A Villain

Resting a hand on the door handle before exiting the room, Oliver swept her body with a look of absolute possessiveness. “You will scream for me, Londyn. The reason why is totally up to you.”

The minute he closed the door, Londyn ran to it and clicked the lock. Her gaze darted around the room, frantically searching for any type of weapon she could find.

Hopeless.

The vanity mirrors over the sink were large plates of glass attached to the wall. Smashing them to bits would bring her captor back immediately. He’d likely break the door down before she could find a piece suitable for use as a knife. The towel bars were heavy metal pipes. Tugging at one only revealed how securely they were attached to the wall.

No artwork decorated the smooth, white marble walls and a quick search of the vanity drawers revealed nothing but high-end toiletries and a blow dryer. Unless she planned on bashing his head in with a bottle of expensive shampoo, there was nothing that could inflict any kind of real damage.

She couldn’t even open a window, as they were a series of rectangle-shaped openings stacked on top of each other in a geometric pattern and placed along the length of one wall at ceiling level. The design allowed a ton of natural light to flood the room, but the windows were far too narrow for a body to pass through.

Defeated, Londyn sank onto the toilet seat, fighting back tears. Taking deep breaths once again staved off a panic attack, but her heart pounded as though she was once again running through the woods in fear for her life. She was trapped. Really trapped.

While she quickly showered,Londyn noticed the strange marks on the inside of her thighs. Their presence was mystifying since they almost appeared to be bite marks. There were also scrapes, as though something rough had rubbed against the tender skin. Multiple scratches and bruises covered her body along with scrapes from rocks and branches, but these were entirely different. Even the marks caused by the rough handling of her guards did not resemble the bruising.

With a towel wrapped tightly around her body, she stood in front of the enormous vanity mirror. Brushing her teeth with a new toothbrush discovered during the search for a weapon, Londyn examined her reflection.

The bruising under one eye was a bit darker, and there was a nasty abrasion on her chin, but the cut on her lip was already healing. Experimentally, she ran her tongue over the wound, wincing when the toothpaste stung.

The most noticeable of her injuries, apart from the unexplained marks on her inner thighs, was the mottled bruises around her neck. They had come from the collar and leash being forcibly jerked as a way of controlling her. Her body stiffened as she recalled that humiliation during the auction. When she’d been forced to her knees while cruel men salivated over her helplessness.

After rinsing her mouth, Londyn probed the sore area around her temple with gentle fingers, wondering how that particular injury might have occurred. Her last memory from the previous night was biting Carl, the guard, and his instant rage while shaking her off.

Everything else was blank until she woke that morning in a cage. Had the man struck her so hard that it knocked her out? Was that the explanation for the black hours that must have surely followed? What had the three men in that bedroom done to her last night?

Maybe they had raped her. Maybe they had held her lifeless body down on that huge bed and took turns violating her.

Londyn shuddered. She would surely be in agony if such a horrendous event hadtaken place. She would be torn and bloody from the battering of her body. Other than the marks on her legs and a strange sensitivity in her private area, there was no indication that an assault of that nature had occurred.

Butsomething hadhappened. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. The situation was horrible enough without adding more trauma. Maybe it was a blessing she could not remember.

Tap, tap.

Londyn startled, clutching the towel closer as she whirled to look at the door.

Her captor rapped on the door again. Harder this time. Impatiently.

“Time’s up, Londyn. Open the door.”

She swallowed at the rough irritation his voice contained. There was no choice but to obey him. Instinct screamed that was the safer option. Defying him, or attempting to, was a dangerous gamble.

Grabbing the bathrobe robe, Londyn thrust her arms through the sleeves and tied the belt tightly around her waist.

“Just-just a minute,” she answered in a high, thin voice. Clearing her throat, she tried again in a stronger tone. “I’m coming.”

“Unless you want to see me when I’m angry, I suggest you unlock this door immediately.” There was a deceptive silkiness to his words now. As if he welcomed the opportunity for a violent display of force.

Londyn hated herself for the fear clawing its way up her throat. She ran to the door, fumbling with the lock and throwing it open.

Oliver leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed. His eyes, so icy blue with a darker, indigo-colored ring encircling the irises, darkened in appreciation at the sight of her in the robe.

“I’m sorry,” Londyn stuttered. “There’s no clock in here, so I didn’t know-”

“Be quiet,” he ordered softly.

Londyn’s explanation abruptly ended. She nervously shifted her feet as he examined her before his eyes quickly scanned the room behind her. He was checking to see if she’d managed to find a weapon and was just waiting to use it on him.

A smirk played across his lips as his gaze slid back to her. “Don’t ever lock a door on me again, Londyn. I’ve no patience for it. Do you understand?”

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