Page 67 of Ravaged
She couldn’t play the harp easily in those chains. But at least she could cook with them on.
No, I thought. Fuck that.
She started, “I was thinking, I—”
I took the key from my pocket, gripping it in my palm, and flipped her toward me. Her gaze shifted to me, her mouth open. Kneeling in front of her, I entered the code in the keypad, then unlocked the chains on her ankles, one by one. With my eyes locked on hers, I stood, towering over her, and grabbed her hands and unlocked those cuffs too. The metal chains clattered to the floor. Her heat radiated towards me. Her bottom lip quivered, and she sucked in a breath.
“Should be easier to cook now,” I said, my cock swelling, aching to be inside of her.
“Yes,” was all she could say.
I lifted a brow. “You were thinking?”
“I—” she breathed, “I don’t remember what I was going to say.”
I stepped back with a smug look on my face and sat at the table. She was silent for a while, dumbstruck at the chemistry floating between us. I wanted to fuck her over the island right then, but I wasn’t going to take advantage of a woman whose life depended on me. If I could guarantee her safety, if I could prevent her from going to Muro, if I could grant her the freedom to choose, and she chose me, then so be it.
But this? Even without chains, she was still my captive.
For now.
“I hope you like cream sauce,” she said, pouring some heavy cream into the pan. It smelled delicious. I wasn’t going to complain about a gorgeous woman cooking for me. She carried the pot of boiling water and noodles over to the colander in the sink. “There’s going to be a lot of it. Mrs. Adler is going to start asking for your help in the kitchen if she finds the leftovers.”
“I’ll tell her you cooked it,” I said.
She paused, then turned towards me, the steam from the pasta water rising in front of her.
“I’m not supposed to leave the bedroom.”
“You were never supposed to leave the cage.”
A blush furrowed over her cheeks.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“I’m not asking for your gratitude.”
“But I am grateful.”
There was no reason for her to be thankful for anything I did. I captured her, lied to her, forced her into beatings and cages, and yet she still saw the positive side to everything. Call it Stockholm Syndrome. Call it misguided. Naive. Or plain stupid. But whatever it was, she made me believe I could do something good. Like I could protect her. Even if it was futile.
“Get us some bowls,” she said. She gestured at the counter. “Where does she keep the bread? Cut some of that too.” When she saw the serious look on my face, she curtsied, “Please.Pleaseget us some bowls and some bread.”
How did I explain that I wasn’t being stern in order to make her submit with politeness, but that I was trying to understand how she wasn’t broken? How she was so damn strong when the world fought against her? When I fought her? When she should have hated everything, but instead, she found the beauty in the smallest moments, like this.
I put the bowls beside her, then cut some bread. We sat at the long table in the dining room and ate in silence. The light from overhead shined down, sparkling on her worn harp necklace. I stared at the thin edges of the strings, my mind glossing over it. Then I realized it had to be a key. To a lock, or a safe, or something. Wherever it led, maybe the Pink Diamond wasn’t there at all, or maybe it was.
But I wasn’t going to tell Teagen to give it to me. Not when the harp necklace was possibly the only thing keeping her alive. One of the only things that made her feel whole.
Because love was making me weak.
My phone buzzed. A message from Derek blinked on the screen; I opened it.It’s not happening, he sent,He wants both now. Not just one.
Both, meaning not only Oliver, but Teagen too. I held the fork in my hand and resisted the impulse to throw the phone across the room. I stuffed the device in my pocket then shoved another bite in my mouth. Teagen had a questioning look in her eyes.
“What?” I asked, my voice more antagonistic than I had intended.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said. But she was thinking it.
