Page 29 of Taking

My throat tightened as I released that tiny seed of hope I’d held onto deep inside my heart. I refused the tears that wanted to leak from my eyes and soak my blindfold with every step he half-carried, half-dragged me.

Warmer air licked at my skin. Crackle of a fire. Wind. The sound of ice-like snow pinging windows.

A storm had moved in.

I’d been gone for at least twelve hours, according to the weather report I’d watched before passing out at home—if we were even still in the Anchorage area.

My captor spun me, lowering me by my armpits—toilet.

Thank god.

Arms still aching from being tied overhead, I tenderly gathered the hem of my old shirt around my waist, uncaring of my nudity—he’d seen it all. He’d covered my skin with cum.

I hated the tingle between my thighs over the thought.

My bladder relaxed, and I let out a shuddered sigh, swaying on the hard seat.

Water ran, but I couldn’t be bothered with what he did as my body found relief in a slow dribble, indicating I’d been holding my urine for far too long. With the ease of my bladder came the next item on my to-do list. Find out who he was and where we were so I could plan how to escape him.

Finally finished, I sat and waited. Spine as stiff as it could be, considering my aching body. Chin held high, even though I couldn’t see a damn thing from behind my blindfold.

The temptation to rip the material off my face itched my fingers, but he held a knife and had said I wasn’t to make any sudden movements.

I was smart enough to obey—for a time.

“Stand.”

I attempted to do as I was told, stumbling—he grasped my upper arm, fingers digging in and without doubt marking my skin. So, he no longer held the knife in his right hand.

A warm, wet towel slapped into my other hand.

He’d given me something to clean myself. Why do so if he intended me real harm?

“Who are you?” I asked.

“No one that matters,” he grunted the words with his dead voice.

Slowly, so he wouldn’t freak out and slash me with the knife he’d put who the hell knew where, I wiped between my thighs. I folded the warm towel in half and rubbed beneath the shirt, attempting to rid myself of his dried cum.

He yanked my hand from beneath my covering, ripping the towel from me.

“That stays.”

Sick arousal rose between my thighs at how he wanted his scent, his mark to remain on me.

But I focused on the bruising grip on my arm I needed to break free from as he led me away from the bathroom.

No more hollowed-out words, just the sounds of Mother Nature accompanied our slow trek back to my cell of sorts as I wracked my brain, soaking in the details of what lay around us.

Hardwood floor beneath my bare feet. The warmth of a fireplace that let out a loud pop of sparks.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice steadier than I’d expected.

He didn’t reply.

“It’s still snowing?”

I didn’t get a verbal response.

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