Page 39 of Taking

My captor had jerked off while I showered—I knew, I could feel the tension thick in the air between us—but I hadn’t turned to look. Couldn’t. I’d frozen in fear over what he might do if he caught sight of my pebbled nipples and the thrum of my heartbeat in my neck as the hot water had trailed over my body, rinsing soap and shampoo down the drain.

Once more, he grabbed hold of my arm, but I didn’t stumble after him as he crossed the living area.

I expected to be tossed and locked in the dark bedroom, but he pulled a sheet from the bottom drawer of a dresser in the kitchen area and slapped it against my chest.

“Strip the bed,” he stated. His hollow, low tone was short and gruff as though I’d offended him.

Happy to do as told, I set to work, ridding my bed of the dirty sheet and fitting the new one atop the mattress. When I finished, I turned to face him, hands clasped in front of me and chin lifting as if to say, “Go ahead. Lock me back up.”

I wanted him to see that the shower had revived me from the near-stupor I’d chosen to call peace, the consideration for my state once more rousing that seed of hope in my breast to sprout. The arousal tingling between my thighs over memories of Gideon reminded me I still lived.

But my stomach rumbled.

“I’m hungry,” I said, lifting my chin even higher, steadily eyeing his mask with disdain even though it freaked me the fuck out and made my feet itch to run.

“You can eat the eggs I left you earlier this morning.”

I glanced at the tray sitting on the lone chair. “They’re cold.”

He stalked toward me, and I stepped deeper into the bedroom until the mattress bumped the backs of my legs. The upward swing of his hand made me flinch, but he grasped my neck rather than hitting me. Hardened fingers dug into my flesh, and I stilled, my pulse thrumming beneath his hold.

Breath heavy, he leaned down into my face, close enough I wanted to turn my eyes away from the mask—but refused.

“Want me to heat them up?” he whispered harshly. “Make you a new mug of tea? Get you a fresh cup of water?”

Spine stiffening as much as possible, I went for confident even while my insides quaked. “I would appreciate it, yes.”

“I’m not your fucking maid, princess. Eat the goddamn food or starve.” He squeezed my neck and pushed off me, spinning on his heel and slamming the door on his way out.

I found my balance, blinking, his words processing…

Princess.

Gideon. It’s him…it’s really him.

My breath left in a rush along with the strength in my legs, and I sank onto the bed, my insides alight with fire even as shivers wracked through me.

I swallowed hard as I envisioned the boy I’d known turning into the man who’d been watching me for weeks. Those wide shoulders, the muscle mass he’d put on… Would the face behind the mask be the same? That glint in his eyes the one that haunted my dreams?

Gideon Destil had five more years left to his sentence yet somehow had found freedom.

How? And why hadn’t I heard?

And he’d kidnapped me. Hated me for my betrayal—but he didn’t intend to kill me. He also had no intention of touching me…

My eyes stung, and my hands clenched on my lap so I wouldn’t chew on my fingernails. Even though my heart raced, my throat tightened.

Gideon.

Mere feet away, but his heart and mind were miles further because of my betrayal. Guilt filled me with self-loathing, same as it had ever since I’d stood witness in court.

Had he taken me captive for Lloyd? Was he getting back at me for what I’d done? If the first was true, why hadn’t his father shown up? It’d been what…four? Five days since he’d taken me? A full week?

I’d lost track of time.

The storm had abated, I’d noted while being dragged to the bathroom, but wilderness stretched through both of the small cabin’s windows, a dim winter’s afternoon.

Definitely not in Anchorage, and definitely not a landscape I’d recognized in the snowstorm while attempting to escape.

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