Page 24 of Redd

Chapter Four

Bijou

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Iwatched him as wedrove. He didn't look at me, his face was set out the windshield, jaw clenched. I wanted to know what he was thinking.

What is he going to do with me?

As much as I saw him as my savior, a huge part of my conscience mind was trying to figure out what he planned to do with me. It had been embedded into the darkest reaches of my brain, I was nothing more than a piece of property.

Is he my new owner?

Damn it! My brain is fucked.

Too much time had been spent controlled my another human being, my life hadn't been my own for over two years. Now I was here, with another man, a man who had come in and rescued me—but that didn't mean he was a good man, that didn't mean I had actually been saved.

I knew nothing about him. And in a flash, I was back in that house all over again. Trapped in the hands of another, nowhere to go, no place to hide. Instinctively, I curled my legs into my chest and nervously played with the belt crossing my lap.

There was this sense of loss consuming me as my insides rumbled with nerves and my stomach twisted and coiled into knots.

He said he wasn't going to hurt me. . .

But that could mean anything.

Diablo had said a lot of things, none of them were true. He had made me promises that I could call home, he had promised me full meals and going outside to feel the sun on my face.

None of that ever happened.

Watching the man cautiously, a small flicker of warmth ignited in my belly. He was a handsome man, not someone I would picture as being malicious. His eyes weren't dull, his expressions looked real and sincere.

Jet black hair covered his head, tousled in the front like he had just woken up. His skin was smooth, his jaw hard and cut with sharp lines.

My heart beat a little faster as he shifted in his seat and the thick muscle of his neck tensed, glistening with sweat in the light as the moon slipped around to his side of the vehicle.

The thin panties I had on grew hot and wet as I stared up at the unknown creature beside me. I wanted to believe he was good, that he was sent to me by some act of kindness I hadn't known existed.

I knew he could feel me watching him. A nervous energy floated around him as his back stiffened and his arms locked straight. Running his hand through his hair, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching white.

He was twisting both hands back and forth, and I could see the veins under the skin as they pulsed. His eyes twitched to look down on me, but he never did, he just stared out the window.

Suddenly, he jerked his arm in my direction, and I reacted without even thinking about it. Jumping back, I buried my head into my knees and cowered. I waited, I tensed up expecting to feel his fist against my body. It never came.

Picking up my head, I peeked up. The man looked down on me, lips pursed up tight.

Eyeing me from the corner of his gaze, he pushed on the radio and raised the volume so it was barely above a whisper. My breathing became heavy and thick as my body untied itself and tried to relax once I realized his hand wasn't lashing out to hit me.

Muscle memory was a bitch. How many more times would my body react defensively when it didn't need to?

I was a stranger to the outside world, to the normalcy of movements, to the natural flow of another.

Parting my lips, I wanted to say so many things to him, but nothing came out. I didn't know where the hell to begin.

Thank you is a start. Thank you for saving my life, I owe you everything, that's a better way to go.

My throat felt dry and scratchy as my tongue attempted to formulate words. Swallowing hard, I opened my mouth again to speak, and still nothing came out.

What do you say to a man who came in and blew down the walls that had held you for so long?

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