Page 23 of Taking

Lloyd hadn’t ever restrained me in such a fashion, spread eagle on top of what had to be a bed. I took stock of my body from my throbbing temples down to my toes…and found no soreness between my thighs, no ache from having been assaulted while unconscious, but…

Tingles worked through my core, a warmth where none ought to be in a healthy woman’s mind as memories flashed through my mind of being forced to comply…used in my inability to fight.

Sick, I’m so damn sick.

I gulped, forcing my mind away from my unwanted arousal. How could my body panic and get turned on at the same time? Had Lloyd fucked me up so badly that my body craved the fear? The pain he would bring?

I didn’t want it. Hated it, hated him.

Whoever it was must have drugged me—not Lloyd. No, Lloyd would have taken advantage of me while I’d been unconscious. He’d done so before…

Someone else had been in my house. Or was I still in my house?

Ears straining, I listened for the sounds of cars driving by, voices, a TV or radio…anything.

Nothing.

Dead silence like I’d been tied up in a tomb.

I’m in a bed. It’s warm—no tomb.

Focusing on breathing, I managed to calm my adrenal glands and ease the tight vise around my chest enough so I didn’t wheeze for breath. But my body continued its sick want, the growing throb between my thighs making me pull against my restraints to try and close them.

My eyes stung and spilled, but the tears had no escape. Slowly, they absorbed into my blindfold, and I bit my lip to keep from sobbing.

Don’t break, Addilyn Jane. Don’t break. Be strong.

The pep talk continued in my head for a few minutes, calming my heart rate as my tears dried. Eventually, I breathed evenly. Clear headed.

After living under Lloyd, giving into fear wasn’t an option. It was what he’d lusted after. I’d escaped him once, and if that’s who had captured me, I would do so again.

Or die trying.

A squeak sounded…a door opening?

I held my breath, lifting my head off the pillow, desperate to see beyond the blackness.

My skin pebbled like an electrical charge rushed through me.

Gideon.

Longing for him to rescue me, to protect me, stabbed me in the chest harshly enough that I bit back a sob, knowing the futility of my thoughts.

He sat in jail because of me, and I would have to look after myself, same as I’d done before.

Footsteps—I held my breath again, tensing and bracing myself for an unwanted touch, ready to fight until my body gave out.

Clothing shifted. Another creak, the sounds of…someone sitting on a cushion?

Turning my head, I faced whoever had joined me. “What do you want?” I asked past the tightness in my throat threatening to choke me. “If it’s money, I’ve got lots of it.”

Well, I would in a few weeks.

Whoever I felt staring at me didn’t answer.

I reached out with my senses, desperate to learn all I could about the person who’d kidnapped me. The more I knew, the better my chances of survival and eventual escape would be.

Woodsmoke scented the air.

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