Page 1 of Devoted

1

Angie

I'm only vaguelyaware of footsteps as they enter the bedroom. "Don't bother to leave the plate," I say without pulling the blanket from myhead.

"I've got something I think will help." Kane's rich, deep voice, a voice that used to send a glow of warmth through me, sends an icy chill around myheart.

I pull down the covers but turn away from him on the bed. "I don't want anything from you except freedom or death. Whatever will make it so I never have to see your face or hear your voiceagain."

"This will help with the withdrawals," he continues unabated. The dead calm in his tone makes me want toscream.

Just his mention of withdrawal sends a painful shiver through me. Every part of me hurts. In between armies of invisible ants crawling up my arms and legs, there are shooting, stabbing pains. It's truly hell but it's nothing compared to the horrible image in my head of Maddox, the man I love, left alone in the ocean, feet and hands bound, struggling to stay alive, knowing full well death by drowning wasimminent.

"Get out. Please. Leave me the hell alone. I deserve to suffer. Just like you deserve to burn inhell."

His footsteps near. "I think you should take the injection. They'll be heresoon."

Kane's last statement makes me turn to look at him. His face is drawn and dark circles punctuate the blueness of hiseyes.

"Who will behere?"

He holds up the syringe. It's filled with a clear liquid, not nectar. God, how I wish it werenectar.

"So, you're not going to answer? You're just going to go all broody and quiet. Get out. I can't stand the sight of you." I pull the covers up to mychin.

His head nods weakly. "I'm well aware of that. I just thought this might relieve some of yoursuffering."

My sharp laugh shoots through the room. "You actually think that stupid shot is going to relieve my suffering? You're not even human at all, areyou?"

"Not really." Kane turns and walks out the door. As he opens and shuts it something seems off. The usual sounds, the heating and cooling systems, the electricity, distant voices, all the sounds that normally buzz through the hallway are gone, leaving behind an ominoussilence.

I wait to make sure Kane has left and climb out of the bed. I grab the bedpost to steady myself. I'm still wearing the same stupid, horrible dress from that awful day. By my calculations, it's been three days since the nightmarish scene that will never be erased from my soul. After they threw Maddox over, I scrambled to throw myself overboard but I was too weak. Oscar carried me screaming and kicking below deck. I was so crazed with despair, I crumbled into a ball on the bedroom floor and wished for death. Kane drugged me up good on the yacht. The next thing I knew I was in the limo heading back to thecomplex.

I yank the dress off, ripping at its straps and zipper to make sure it is destroyed. I ball it up and heave it across the room. Every footstep hurts my head, but my emotional despair outweighs the pain so much, I find it easy toignore.

The hot shower relieves the physical misery a little, but it does nothing for my shredded soul. For days and days, I paced the underground bedroom, anxiously waiting for Kane's next visit. He became the reason for me to rise out of bed in the morning. That thought makes me want to throw up. I push my face under the water hoping to relieve thenausea.

I have to stop myself from rubbing my skin raw. I turn the water off, climb out and grab the towel. My head feels as if it's filled with air while my body is filled with lead. I make my way to the closet and pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. My hair drips down the back of my shirt as I finish dressing. I've been in a haze and my lack of appetite has returned, but it occurs to me that it's been more than a day since I was brought a plate of food. Maybe that is my fate—to die in this bedroom. Kane can no longer let me go because I have witnessed him actually murder someone, a police officer, no less. He had covered his tracks well before that incident. He kept a tight seal around his secret club and complex. But now there is an eyewitness to murder. He can't let mego.

I stand still in the center of the room and listen. Silence. I look up at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. The tiny red light is off. It seems the security system isdown.

I walk to the door, trying not to get my hopes up and at the same time having to tamp down the rush of adrenaline. I reach for the handle and it clicks. The door isunlocked.

My hand shakes as I open it. I've been in the room for several months but I've never opened the door and walked out on my own. That fact becomes an even starker reality when I step into the empty, quiet hallway and realize I don't know my way around. What stands out the most as I walk down the dimly lit hallway is the silence. My room is one of many in a long corridor. Blake mentioned more than once that the other women lived in the samehalls.

I walk to the first room next to mine. The keypad is turned off. I knock once. No answer. I knock again and this time give the door a little nudge. "Hello?" I poke my head into the room. There is a bed and a vanity like in my bedroom but it's empty of makeup and brushes. The room looks vacant. I step inside. "Anybody here?" Noanswer.

I walk out and give the next room a try. It's empty too. A good dose of fear grips me as I consider the possibility that I'm alone in Kane's vast underground complex. It's a frightening enough notion that I make my way back to my bedroom. I use it as a starting point and try to retrace the path to Kane's office. I've been there twice. I grow cold thinking about the things Kane did to me in his office, against his desk. I reveled in the attention. I craved every minute of it. I craved a cold-blooded murderer. That is a sentiment that will follow me to thegrave.

The notion takes hold that I might very well be standing in my grave. I have no idea what Kane has planned for me, but with the sudden morgue-like atmosphere surrounding me, I'm sure it's somethinggrim.

Every corridor looks similar but I continue on through the passages. The air temperature seems to be dropping especially fast solidifying my conclusion that the heating and cooling system has been shut down. Pin pricks of panic start in my fingers and run up my arms at the thought of suffocating in the maze of hallways. It would be a long torturous death. Lack of nectar is taking me to the darkest corners of my mind. I have to consciously shake off the horrid notions or they'll overwhelmme.

Determined to face Kane and find out just what he has planned for me, I head down a hallway that looks vaguely familiar because it is shorter than most of the passages. A thin stream of light squeezes beneath a door at the end of the hall. It's Kane'soffice.

I walk to the door and hear a shuffling sound. I take a deep steadying breath and push open the door. Kane is sitting behind his desk. It's been cleared of paperwork. The computer isgone.

He leans back and rests his arms on the armrests. There was a time when I could picture his handsome face even in my sleep. I'm working hard to vanish it from my memory for good. I'm looking at a murderousstranger.

---