Page 22 of Twisted Vows

It’s the first time I’ve touched him without his ropes around my wrists. I stop myself from leaning my head on his shoulder despite the exhaustion plaguing me.

He sets me down on my feet—it feels weird to stand without my ankles bound—and tells me the toilet paper is to my right before stepping away. I fumble through using the toilet while blindfolded and sway when I pull the oversized pants back up to my waist. He leads me a few steps forward and ensures I have my balance before tugging my hoodie and shirt up over my head.

I don’t know what magic he performed on the blindfold, but it remains firmly in place over my eyes. A shiver rolls down my spine as I stand in nothing but his pants and my bra. It’s one ofthe oldest sports bras I own and is comfortable and supportive, but not what I would have chosen to wear if I’d known someone else would see it.

Especially with the blood plastering the white fabric to my chest.

Despite my embarrassment, I don’t cover myself. Goosebumps pepper my flesh as I imagine his eyes roaming over me, and arousal pulses between my legs. He hooks his fingers into the elastic band of my underbust and lifts.

My breasts bounce free. His sharp inhale fans the flames of my lust even as fatigue urges me to drop to the floor for a nap. I ignore my hard nipples and the warm air brushing over my exposed flesh and help him work the fabric over my head and off my arms.

The blindfold remains on, but even if he took it off, I wouldn’t open my eyes. My only hope of truly being free is if I never see his face. If I can’t identify him, then he has no reason to kill or keep me.

He takes my wrists and places my palms on his shoulders, forcing me onto my toes until he bends down. When he cups the back of one knee and lifts, I use his shoulders to balance and grit my teeth as he takes off my sock and meticulously peels the moleskin off my foot. After repeating the process on my other foot, he reaches up and dips his fingers into my waistband.

I dig my nails into his shoulders, a part of me wishing he wasn’t wearing a shirt so I could gouge holes in his flesh while the other part just wants to appreciate his smooth skin.

For a horrible second, I wonder if he’s into blood play. Did my nosebleed turn him on? Does seeing me covered in blood turn him on?

My nausea returns tenfold.

I’ve seen too many car accidents and gang wounds to associate blood with pleasure.

“We’re just getting you clean,mia caramellina. No funny business, promise.Capisci?”

It doesn’t really matter whether I believe him or not. Even with my limbs free, he’s much bigger and stronger than I am, and with how weak I feel at the moment, there’s nothing I can do to stop him if he hurts me.

He releases my waistband and frames my face in his hands.

“I mean it, Mia. I’m hanging on by a thread here, but I won’t touch you until you’re back to fighting form.”

The desperation in his voice loosens something inside me, and my breathing turns ragged. I clench my eyes behind the blindfold and squeeze his shoulders, needing the contact to center myself in the present. After a few deep, counted breaths, I swallow and nod, refusing to cry over something so silly.

He shucks my pants off my legs and guides me toward the shower. When I step over the lip of the tub, a wave of dizziness hits me and I stumble, but he catches me by the shoulders and waits until I have my balance before letting go.

The world spins. My legs shake. I brace my hand on the wall and stiffen when he reaches around me for the knot of my blindfold. He pauses when I swat at his forearm, but after a tense moment of consideration, he continues trying to untie the fabric.

“Don’t take it off,” I demand.

“You need your vision in the shower,bellezza.”

His coaxing tone only insults me.

“No. Leave it on.”

“And how do you intend to wash yourself?” he asks in the ominous voice from the alley.

“You do it.”

For a moment, neither of us moves as the weight of my words settles onto our shoulders.

“No. You need a clean blindfold anyway. I’ll give you eight minutes to yourself, then I’ll call out before I come back into the bathroom.”

“Why, so you can trick me into seeing your face? Or lie and say I saw it even if I didn’t?”

He sighs in exasperation and fists the knot.

The sudden movement sends me reeling, and with legs made of jelly, I lose my balance.

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