Page 8 of Tempted By Sin

I eye the bottle of water, desperate to quench the thirst clawing at my throat. The thought that he could have slipped some sort of drug into the water crosses my mind. But as much as I would like to deny his offer of food purely so I can keep my senses about me, the violent growl of my stomach gives me away.

I’m starving and thirsty. And if I want to keep my energy up to have a fighting chance of escaping this room, I need to get something in me.

My body vibrates with nerves as I lower onto the edge of the mattress. The sandwich shakes slightly in my trembling hands as I bring it to my mouth. I don’t bother inspecting the food before I take a bite. The moment the ham and cheese touch my taste buds, I’m unable to stop myself from taking large bites, desperate to fill the ache in my stomach. He’s added lettuce, mayo, and tomato, too, as if he knows how I like my ham sandwiches. Lucky guess.

With each bite I take, I feel my kidnapper’s intense gaze searing a hole into my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine.

I wish I knew what he was thinking or why he brought me here in the first place. Not knowing what’s going to happen to me is a terrifying feeling. He could do whatever he wanted to me in the blink of an eye, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But instead, he’s watching me eat the food he offered, not saying a single word.

It’s unnerving, really.

Within two minutes, the sandwich is gone and the bottle of water is mostly empty. Eating so fast has given me a stomachache, but it’s better than the feeling of being hungry. Even though I’m still thirsty, I know I need to preserve the water for as long as possible since I don’t know if he’s going to give me more or not.

He steps forward to collect the tray with his tattooed arm. Instinct has me scrambling back on the bed, my eyes fixed on every tiny movement he makes.

He stands to his full height, towering over me with the red tray gripped firmly in his hands. Just when I think he’s going to turn around and leave, an unexpected deep voice sounds from behind the Halloween-esque mask that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t even think about trying to escape. You won’t get far.”

CHAPTERFIVE

Paetyn

How doesa person determine how much time has passed without seeing a sliver of sunlight?

No matter how hard I try to keep track of time by counting each second as I feel them ticking by, committing the numbers to memory as best I can, I’m still clueless as to how long I’ve been sitting on this thin mattress with a dirty sheet wrapped around me, praying that Liam will come to my rescue.

Is my fiancé worried about me? Is he doing everything in his power to find me?

God, I hope so.

The longer I sit here, wondering what the masked man is going to do to me, the more I begin to lose hope of being rescued. I could be anywhere in the country right now, making it near impossible for Liam to find me. If the house I’m being held in is located deep in the woods, I may as well begin digging my own grave.

I feel so helpless. So confused. And so fucking angry that I’m unable to see my mother.

Picturing her face when I close my eyes brings the sense of comfort I’m desperately seeking, but it’s also a reminder that she is likely confused about why I haven’t visited or called on my way home from work like I do most days. The thought of her thinking I have abandoned her….

I swallow the lump in my throat, my lips quivering. Crying isn’t an option. I refuse to appear weak in front of my kidnapper. I’m sure it’s what he wants—to see my fear. He probably gets off on it.

What I don’t understand about the man who kidnapped me is why he’s treating me like a house guest, minus the filthy bed and the chain secured around my ankle preventing me from leaving. He routinely brings me food and water but makes no effort to speak to me. Not even when he releases my ankle from the chain attached to the bed and escorts me to the bathroom attached to the room. The words he uttered about not being able to leave ring in my head—another reminder of how trapped I am.

Each time I see the mask covering his face, hiding his identity, fear slides across my skin. His presence alone indicates he’s a dangerous man. Whenever he enters the room, his shoulders are tense, his body rigid, and his eyes hard as he stares at me from behind the creepy mask. He may scare me, but I’m grateful for the food he offers. I would be in worse condition if he didn’t.

He could starve me if he wanted to or do whatever he wants to me. I’m completely helpless. But he doesn’t hurt me. He doesn’t even speak to me, let alone touch me. Why?

Despite being unable to keep track of time by counting seconds, I have a feeling the masked man is bringing me three meals a day. If that’s the case, he has offered me five meals in total, which means I have likely been here for two days.

Two whole fucking days.

I can’t believe it.

As if sensing my thoughts about him, the lock on the door unlatches, and the masked man steps through the doorway with the same red tray he has presented me with each time. For my third meal of the day, a steaming Styrofoam cup of ramen sits beside a bottle of water and an apple. It’s different from the sandwiches he’s been offering.

I watch as he sets the tray on the end of the mattress, the muscles in his arms constricting with the movement. He wears the same thing every day—a black T-shirt, black jeans, and that damn mask. It must be his kidnapper uniform.

The cup of noodles is in my hands before he sits down in the chair across from me, his usual place to watch me eat. He leans back in the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

I ignore his gaze and blow on the steaming water in the cup. With how cold it gets in this room, my hands have long since turned into ice cubes, so the warmth of the cup is greatly appreciated and needed.

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