Page 10 of His to Bedevil

I am so fucked. I got caught, and now I’m someone’s prisoner. Okay, there’s no time to panic here. I need to be smart on my feet.

After stretching my limbs, I walk around the dimly lit area and find where the camera is located. A bucket is the only thing in this room with me, and I assume it’s to piss and shit in. It’s cold in here, and I hadn’t noticed until now, now that some of the adrenaline has worn off. Or they could have turned the air down to make sure that I’m uncomfortable. I’m still only in my jean shorts and tiny top, but they removed my wedges and jewelry. I can’t help but wonder if they found my hiding place in my apartment. If they did, they would’ve found my laptop with his info on it, and I’d be dead by now. They could still want to know who I work for or with. That’s possible.

Not being able to hold it in any longer, I crouch over the bucket and empty my aching bladder. I’ve done worse, so it’s not much of a humiliation as I’m sure he’s hoping for.He.Alejandro. The beautiful monster and my warden.

Curling up into a tiny ball in one of the dark corners, I close my eyes and drift off, still feeling groggy from whatever he gave me to knock me on my ass. I have no idea what awaits me when my twenty-four hours are up or what kind of torture I’ll endure. How my death will be.

Will he do it quick, or does he like to cut people up, piece by piece? It’s sad, the only person on earth that would mourn me would be Matches, and he and I are hardly even friends. We’re partners, nothing more. I’m a nobody, and I’ll die a nobody. I never got to visit Cuba or see the northern lights. I won’t get to visit the pyramids or fall in love. I’ve been so many places, but it was always for a job or some time off in between and I’d go by myself. I have absolutely nothing to show for it. I have so much cash sitting in various locations, but what good does that do me now, thinking about my final moments alive? I don’t get to take it with me. Nothing but my memories, and I can hardly think of any that count. Thinking back over my whole life, the only good memories I will carry with me are the ones of when my mother was okay. My life has turned into such a lonely one, and it’s just beginning to bother me now.

Trying to recall a good memory that doesn’t involve her, I think back to I guess it was yesterday, at the festival when I was forced to dance with Alejandro. The way his body was pressed against mine and his hands had a possessive hold on me. His eyes bored into me, mixed with lust and fury. It was no secret that he wanted me, the way his erection was grinding into my stomach, and he hated that I turned him on. Or maybe he got off on that. Knowing he was about to capture and torture me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he got off on causing someone pain. If slashing someone’s throat made his dick hard. The bastard that I stabbed and who backhanded me when I was helpless got exactly what he deserved.

I have no idea how long I was sleeping, but my head snaps up when I hear the door open. Jumping to my feet, I stand in a defensive stance, waiting to see who will emerge from the shadows this time. There is no telling what kind of torture they have lined up for me.

Stepping into the light holding a plate and a cup is Alberto, Alejandro’s right-hand man. The man is a little taller than Alejandro and just as fit. He looks much older with his graying dark hair and the lines around his eyes, but he’s still very handsome. His eyes look like they hold a lot of secrets and that life hasn’t been too kind to him, but somehow he’s held on to his humanity. I can see that too. His eyes may seem hard, but they aren’t lifeless or cold.

“Come. Eat,” he orders.

I step out of the shadows slowly and stand under the light. Keeping his eyes on me with apprehension, he squats down and places the plate of food and the cup of water on the floor. Then he stands back up and begins to back away, grabbing the chair I was restrained to and dragging it behind him. Dammit, I could’ve used something from it as a weapon. “Not going to interrogate me, Alberto? Maybe begin my torture?” I taunt.

Without even flinching, he continues to retreat into the darkness and back out the door. Leaving me alone. Looking down at the plate, I see an apple and some crackers. Sighing, I sit down cross-legged with the plate and eat. I could refuse to eat, but I need the strength to fight or run if the opportunity presents itself. Once I’ve collected some information about my actual situation, I can start plotting an escape.

Hours later, my twenty-four hours must be up when Alejandro appears. He’s wearing a T-shirt and dark jeans, and he looks even more appetizing than when he wears a suit. His strong arms are on display, and I can see his expansive chest ready to burst through his shirt. I’m sitting on the floor with my back against the wall, knees bent and open, my elbows resting on them. Just barely in the light.

“Good morning, my love.” His hypnotic voice makes my heart race.

“Is it?” I stare down at my dirty feet and wiggle my toes. I know it’s only been, like, two days, but I feel so gross and dirty already. And I’m fucking starving. It reminds me of when I lived on the streets for a couple years.

“What is your name?” he asks smoothly.

Not meeting his eyes, I sigh. “You already know my name.” He sneered it at me twice yesterday.

“No. The name you were born with.”

“What makes you think I was born with a different name?” I ask, my voice laced with boredom.

“You don’t look like aFynn,” he plainly states, but sneers my name once again.

My eyes finally snap up to meet his. “No? The red hair, the green eyes, the fair skin? It’s not Irish-looking enough for you?” I sass.

“You don’t look like aFynn,” he repeats. “It just doesn’t fit you.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Then what do I look like to you?”

“What is your name?” It’s creepy how calm and imperturbable he always is. The only emotion I’ve actually seen from him was when he charged at one of his own men to slice his throat.

“Why does it fucking matter, Alejandro?” I try to say in an equally calm tone. “You’re going to kill me, no? It’s not like I have anyone for you to tell about my capture or even threaten. So, just get on with it. I’m not giving you my name. I’m not going to tell you why I was in your office. You can torture me all you want. I’m not giving you shit.”

Leisurely crouching down to squat in front of me, his facial features are still impassive and aloof. “Give me your name. That’s all I want.”

I pinch my eyebrows distrustfully. “You’re kidding, right? My birth name. That’s all you want to know. First of all, bullshit. Second of all, my birth name is worthless, just like my name and my life is now. So, fuck off. Get on with the torture or kill me. I’m. Not. Giving. You. Shit.”

Again, we silently sit there and stare at one another. Me, furious and getting worked up. Him, placid and cool. Although I’m irritated as all hell, I can’t help but catalog his handsome features. I cannot find one single flaw in his face. His cheekbones are sharp, his facial hair is dark and perfectly filled in along his straight jawline and around his full magenta-colored lips. His very soft-looking lips.

“Your name,” he whispers, and I feel his breath reach me, caressing my skin and lighting it up.

I resist the urge to flutter my eyes closed, and remain recalcitrantly silent. My mouth dries up and my throat closes up, making it impossible to form words anyway. I can smell his manly scent that has a hint of mint and cigar. It’s what he always smells like, and it’s addicting. I want to bask in it and bottle it up. Would I smell like him if we… Fuck, I need to get ahold of myself.

“Very well, then, my love.” He stands to his feet, and I follow his eyes. “I guess we’ll do this the hard way.” A quick flicker of something resembling remorse is reflected in his gaze, but it’s only for a second before he hardens it. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

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