Page 22 of Taking

Then, I would decide Addilyn’s fate.

A man needed money to live—perhaps I would allow the princess to ransom her own life with the inheritance she’d have access to within a short matter of weeks.

But first, I would make her pay for her betrayal.

My fucking dick twitched again at the thought, but I ignored the rekindled lust and set to work bundling up my captive for the long ride ahead of us.

9

Addilyn

Muscles heavy and aching, I groaned as I woke, keeping my eyelids clenched tight.

Did I get run over by a truck?

My brain seemed swelled inside my skull, throbbing, threatening to liquify and leak out my ears.

“Shit,” I muttered and tried to roll into a fetal position.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink open my eyes.

Black. Blindfold.

“What—” A harsh pull on my arms as I woke fully tightened the ties around my wrists, and I hissed, yanking again, hard enough that my joints hurt. My chest tightened. I didn’t need to pinch myself to know I wasn’t dreaming.

My legs—

Oh fuck…

My stomach rolled, and I swallowed hard, attempting to move my legs again. Tied up. Spread open. Ankles cuffed, same as my wrists.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…

Voice catching on a sob, I yanked again, but my binds held firm.

Adrenaline crashed through me, easing my muscle aches, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears.

I’d had fantasies of being kidnapped and restrained, but the reality settled in, panic demanding I flee.

“Help me!” I shrieked and choked on a breath, my rising terror uncaring as to who would hear—Lloyd, someone random—I just needed out. Freedom. I shifted my head on the pillow to dislocate my blindfold. “Please! Somebody!”

Thrashing only chafed my wrists and ankles, and I gulped a few times, hoping to relieve the tightness in my chest. The panic stole my breath and heated my body to the point of sweat.

Calm down. Use your brain…

No one touched me. Nothing made a sound beyond the pulse of rushing blood in my ears. I tried to lie still, panting and shuddering involuntarily. Shivering even though I burned up.

No air caressed my skin—I still wore Gideon’s shirt that had replaced my sleep shorts and camisoles from years earlier. Threadbare and worn, it was a comfort when I woke from my nightmares.

This is no nightmare.

I whimpered, lightheaded from a lack of oxygen in my squeezing lungs. “H-hello? P-Please…let mm-e go. Please.”

Softness cradled my entire backside rather than a hard surface like dirt or cement. The air didn’t reek of decay or a damp cellar. Heaviness like a blanket lay atop most of my body.

Shit could be worse, I tried telling myself over and over, but nothing calmed my racing heart or the adrenaline continuing to pour into my blood.

Think…

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