Page 17 of Bleeding Blackheart

No. I’ll behave and submit. If he thinks I’m following directions, he may loosen up a bit. My socks are on the dresser and my rugged boots are downstairs. I’d rather not wear my boots without socks, but I may have to if I plan on escaping tonight. Maybe I can find a way to sneak a pair of socks down there without him knowing.

Taking a seat on the bed, I lean back on the pillows, feeling the day catch up with me. I’m hungry, but I’m tired more. After a few more minutes, Blackheart comes out thebathroom with his towel still on his hips and a new look on his face.

The mustache and beard are gone, and he looks ten years younger. More like thirty-five instead of the forty-five he looked like this morning. His lips are plump and pink, and his jaw is sharp and angular. He looks like a GQ model. A country GQ model. He still has hair on his chest though. And he probably still has hair around his—

“What are you wearing?” His eyes narrow and focus on my chemise while he looks at me disapprovingly.

“The nightgown you bought me. I thought I was supposed to wear it to bed.”

His jaw relaxes when he remembers that he was the one who insisted on me having this, and he digs in his nightstand for medical supplies. “I could’ve given you another shirt.”

Just when I think I might please him, I seem to piss him off more. I fiddle with one of the silk straps holding the gown up. “I didn’t know. I can change if you want.”

He ignores me and puts gloves on, and then he pulls away the bandage on my head harder than I like. “Looking better. You might get away with just a piece of gauzetomorrow. You can probably wash your hair the day after.”

I sit patiently while he cleans the area. He tends to me like I’m a wounded animal he wants to fix. Once he rubs something on it, he puts a clean bandage over it.

I get a whiff of his aftershave when he grabs bandages and ointment for my arms and legs. He smells woodsy. There’s a hint of booze too. Then there’s the base of lavender underneath that ties everything together.

He moves quickly, getting my arms secured, and he freezes when he gets to my legs. One of his large hands hovers over my right thigh and lifts my gown gently, exposing my hip and a peek at my lace underwear. I can feel his body heat through the gloves, and it’s comforting while he rubs the salve over my hip bone gently. I look up at his exposed cheeks. His jaw is hard, but his face which isn’t as tan as his body has a slight flush to it. I wonder why he’s not married. Maybe he wouldn’t be so aggressive if he had a woman’s touch in his life.

As quickly as his hand is there, it’s gone, and he covers my exposed skin, securing the white fabric he uses with medical tape, and then he lowers the hem of my dress, standing up straight.

He’s still got his towel on, but that angry bulge is still underneath, clearly not satisfied from his session in the shower. He turns away from me, leaving all of the supplies on the table while he slides into a pair of blue plaid pantsand a gray tee. He looks between me and his shotgun as if he’s wondering whether to bring it downstairs or not, but I clearly still have him on edge as he slings it over his shoulder and nods toward the door. “Downstairs.”

I stand up on my bare feet, feeling worlds better than I did this morning. I still have cramps and a headache, but I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore.

I walk down the steps slowly, letting my fingertips drag along the shiny oak banister. This house is beautiful. Perfect for a family. I can’t believe he lives here all alone. When I get to the bottom, I glance at the front door, thinking about how easy it would be to run out if I unlatch the two locks. But he’d have a bullet in me before I could cross the threshold. I suck in a breath, trying not to panic while my nightmare from this afternoon flashes in my mind again.

Feeding off my fear, Blackheart leans over my shoulder, his lips millimeters from my right ear. “Can you cook?”

I want to say no, but even if I do, he’ll make an effort to teach me or force me to watch a video on it. I need to make things easier on myself, and then he’ll hopefully be easier on me. “I can make anything.” It’s not a lie, and I hope it will impress him.

He stands up straight and pokes me forward with his gun, returning to his more menacing side. “Good. Steaksare in the fridge. Already marinated. Cook ‘em up, and bake vegetables too.”

Dick. Dick should be his name because he’s a fucking dick. I waltz forward slowly, trying to keep my mini dress from riding up. Blackheart takes a seat at the table watching me while I get started.

It doesn’t take long to wash and cut vegetables, and once I get them prepped and in the oven, I get out a pan for the steaks.

I glance over my shoulder at him while he scrolls on his phone. Not looking up, he calls out to me. “Drink some water.”

I open the fridge and grab another bottle. He uses a lot of plastic. I want to tell him how bad it is for the environment, but I’m not in the mood to get choked out.

I’m thirstier than I thought because I drink it quickly. Once I’m done with it, he calls out to me again. “Two beers, little fox.”

An animal giving me an animal nickname. The irony. I get him two cold ones and open them for him, placing them on the coasters. Looking pleased, he raises a brow and smirks at me while he sips one, and I turn away to finish dinner.

When I look over my shoulder this time, he is watching me. I’ve got to come up with a plan. I need to think. I haveto find a way out of this house. I try to smile at him when I really want to gouge his eyes out. “What are your horses’ names?”

His eyebrows lift, and he chugs the remainder of his first beer. “Ordinary names.”

My lips tighten, giving away my irritation while he grins like a fucking Cheshire cat. I make an attempt to soften my face. “I love animals.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t give a shit.”

There has to be a way to break him. Everyone has a breaking point. But what I really want to find is his melting point. A way to turn him into putty. I lean forward, giving him a better view of what I know he’s obsessed with. “Can I see them?”

His eyes dart down to my cleavage while he licks his lips, and he widens his legs, clearly trying to get comfortable. He shows me his bright smile while he leans forward.

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