Page 45 of Captive Souls

That he hadn’t made me want to rip all of my clothes off, present myself to him in a dare to take me.

Swallowing food that was suddenly tasteless, I ate the rest of the meal in silence, unable to trust my instincts, my needs, the very air around me.

Knox was breaking me.

Just not in the way he’d intended.

Ten

Piper

Ineeded a distraction. I’d gone temporarily mad last night. Which was fine. One was allowed to go a little bit mad in situations like that.

Yes, I showed off my pussy to a monster, but it’s okay. Act like it never happened.

Act like you didn’t see that raw, almost ugly yet picturesque hunger on his face.

I could do it. I could eat and sleep in the same space as him for an indefinite amount of time until I was delivered to Stone.

Yeah, I could totally do that.

That’s what I’d convinced myself during the long hours it took me to find sleep. Knox wasn’t in the room. He’d gone outside after doing the dinner dishes, with me sitting at the table, watching him with a muffled ringing in my ears.

I didn’t know what he was doing out there. It was long dark, and the air had a nip to it. He hadn’t put on a jacket when he left, I’d noted that. He’d be cold.

Why I was worrying about him being cold was beyond me. He deserved it. He deserved to get his fingers fall off from frostbite and worse.

Yet I’d tossed and turned after stoking the fire and almost got up to find him, to hand him his coat. The caretaker in me could not be killed by threats. Not yet at least.

Eventually, I’d fallen into a fitful sleep, restless and dreaming of Knox. Of him hurting me. Of him being in bed with me. Of the world burning.

Cheerful things.

The next morning, I’d jumped out of bed with the intention of ignoring him and going for a run. But as I’d left the bathroom, fully dressed this time, he was up.

“You’re eating before you’re running,” he said, back to me at the stove.

I stopped in my tracks at his voice. As though last night had never happened.

That was his goal then too.

Fine, I could do that.

It was for the best.

I considered ignoring him completely and just running out the door, grasping on to whatever tenuous free will I had remaining.

But my body was still weak. There was a heaviness to my limbs, and there was still a cavernous emptiness in my stomach, growling at me to replace calories, to store as many as I could.

Gritting my teeth, I sat down at the table, hating that I was relying on Knox to feed me. Sure, I could’ve shouldered my way into the kitchen, insisted on cooking my own food. But that would’ve meant having to get close to him.

No, sitting at the table glowering in denial served me much better.

It wasn’t long before another steaming plate was put in front of me, beside it a mug of tea.

“More beans, great,” I said sarcastically, even though it went against the manners instilled in me by my grandmother to be so ungrateful.

Not that I needed to be grateful to Knox for anything.

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