Page 23 of Captive Souls

My iron-clad control abandoned me as I stepped on soundless feet to stand at her bedside.

She’d yanked the covers up to her chest and was still clutching them in her sleep. She was tense, protecting herself, even in sleep. A normal person, a good person, might’ve felt a stab of guilt at that.

Then again, a good person never would’ve taken her captive in the first place.

My eyes traced the curves and ridges of her face. Her high cheekbones, her delicate nose, the gentle flaring of her nostrils as she inhaled. Her long lashes framed exquisite espresso and gold-flecked eyes.

Her rosebud lips were swollen, as if she’d been chewing on them all night. The arch at the top of her lip was enchanting. I wanted it wrapped around my dick.

Wantedherwrapped around my dick.

I’d always known I was sick, but not this sick. Not capable of watching my captive sleep with my cock hard, seconds away from coming all over her just bythinkingabout her.

It was shameful. Fucking creepy.

Yet I’d stayed there for an age, watching her chest move, memorizing the ridges of her face, cock standing at attention,refusing to sate my need. I didn’t do that. Didn’t give myself pleasure I didn’t deserve. Primarily because when I was done, I felt dirtier than before, and the call of the knife was louder, the need to cut through the filth undeniable.

By the time I finally forced my feet to walk back to the sofa, I’d given in to the call of the steel, exhaling as the familiar bite of pain eased the tension. But not enough. Nowhere near enough as it had in the past. Madness was truly near, then. If the one thing I could always rely upon had abandoned me. Wired and frustrated, I stared at the ceiling for hours before sheer exhaustion finally took me.

I was contemplating my fate. A month in this cabin with her. My control was already frayed, damn near destroyed, after one fucking night.

The urge to run was palpable.

But running meant defeat.

Running meant my death.

I had to stay. And I’d keep my hands off her.

She was Stone’s. I’d deliver her to him, willing and ready to be his wife. No matter how sick the prospect made me.

I’d fracture this beautiful woman because I could. Because I had to. Because she already had too much power over me.

And I’d vowed to myself years ago, that no one would have that ever again.

Piper

Despite the situation, my gnawing hunger and my overwrought nervous system, I slept like the dead.

Clearly, my body’s exhaustion trumped my mind’s turmoil. For one night anyway. How I could shut down and be vulnerableand unconscious in the same room as the bastard sitting on the couch was beyond me.

Survival.

My body was wired to do that. And in order to survive, I needed strength. I needed sustenance.

One cursory glance in the small fridge and freezer showed me it was packed to the gills with meat, butter and a handful of vegetables. Same with the small pantry. Some bread, grains, but very little.

The next morning, I’d mindfully chewed on the bread and an apple. Somehow, he’d known. He’d known that I didn’t eat meat, ensuring that I would have barely enough food to keep me alive, let alone strong enough to fight back.

It was chilling, to be under the same roof as someone who was purely there to break my will. To batter me so completely that I would ‘willingly’ marry a monster. Stone could’ve easily forced me with a gun aimed point-blank to my sister’s head. I would’ve done it too. To protect Daisy. It would’ve been a fuck of a lot simpler than all of this.

Although he was a criminal piece of shit, he somehow considered himself civilized. His ego wouldn’t allow him to simply force me to marry him. He wanted to bring about the illusion of consent, whether that was for appearances or for his own warped mind, I didn’t know.

My hunger wasn’t sated by my meager breakfast, but it sufficed for the moment. I had to ration. It was all I had for the foreseeable future, and I was entirely dependent on Knox for all of my sustenance and safety.

A sobering and horrifying thought.

That’s what had me putting on my running gear in the bathroom—while Knox was presumably sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t look too closely at the large, prone form.

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