Page 13 of Dove

I smiled at my deep thoughts. Torture always brought out my philosophical side. My captive’s eyes watched my every move as if he could find a way to stop me. With precision, I pulled a single match from the box before stepping to stand within an inch of him. Water dripped off his body, splashing onto my glossy black shoes.

I struck the match and brought the flame next to his cheek. A centimeter separating the heat from his skin. Close enough for him to feel what was coming. For the scent of sulfur to linger in his nose. For the flame to flicker in the corner of his eye.

I wanted him to live momentarily in the horror of what was to come. Just like she had. Wondering what would happen next. Worrying how bad it would truly be. How much a body could take.

“No.” He groaned as he fought against his chains. The rattling sound feeding the demon inside me. Fueling my depraved desire to inflict harm. “I told you I’ll talk.”

“I’m not interested in your confession tonight.” I pressed the flame into his cheek, the sound of his scream making me relax for the first time since Kincaid had been taken from me. His skin sizzled as the smell of burnt flesh mixed with his terror.

“Wh-what do you want?” He panted as sweat beaded on his top lip.

“Your fear.”

8

Kincaid

Iheard the click of the bedroom door opening, but I kept my eyes closed. I pretended to sleep as I listened to Maddox enter the room. I could feel him lingering at the edge of the bed, just as he had before leaving. It seemed like I could always feel him. Like the invisible strings that had attached us that first day were still intact.

Back then, I’d wanted to run as far away as possible. I wanted to snap the connection. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that. I’d forgotten who he was. Or I’d chosen to ignore it. Pretend it wasn’t important.

A relieved breath left my lungs as I heard the bathroom door close behind him. I turned slightly, staring at it. I knew without asking where he’d gone tonight. He’d barely left my side since I’d come back. The only reason he would leave in the middle of the night was to kill. Maybe it was my kidnappers. Maybe it was someone else. I wasn’t sure if it mattered. Killing was killing.

At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

But a part of me wondered if that was true. Would it really be such a terrible thing if the men who’d taken me died? Would the world really miss them? Would killing one monster protect someone else?

I groaned as I buried my face in the pillows. The silky, expensive, soft pillows. Suddenly everything felt like it was paid for with blood money. The sheets on the bed. The clothes in the closet. This house. All of it was stained red. Tainted. And I’d touched it. Slept in it. Enjoyed it.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to leave. I’d let myself into the cage, and now I needed to find my way out.

* * *

A week later, I still hadn’t found it. I sat across the table from Maddox as we ate dinner on the bedroom balcony. Something we’d done many times before. That wasn’t all we’d done on this table. I shook my head and pushed down the memories of Maddox dripping hot wax onto my skin. I tried to forget the way I’d come from the pain alone. The way I’d begged him to claim me.

I thought I had moved past this, but shame burned my cheeks. I thought I could come to terms with what we were. But everything had shifted when I’d been taken. I was reminded how the world would truly view me.

Him. Us. There would be no happiness here. Not for someone like me. Someone twisted.

Even as my body pulsed for him, I resisted. It would be a mistake to start again. He hadn’t touched me since I’d come back. I tried to tell myself it was a good thing. If he touched me, I would get lost in the pain. In the bliss. In the freedom. It would be better if he never touched me again. Better that he’d finally become bored of me. It would make it easier to leave. It was what I had always wanted.

I ignored the sharp twist of my heart as I repeated the words in my head.

“When can I go home?” I asked before taking another bite of food. Maddox watched the fork disappear between my lips. He was always fascinated by watching me eat.

“You are home.” He answered without looking at my eyes.

My throat closed at his words. I reached for the glass of wine as my eyes watered, choking on the pasta I’d been eating. I coughed and tried to clear my airway. The shock of his statement hitting me hard.

“Maddox, this isn’t my home. I want to go back to my apartment.” I finally managed when I could breathe again.

His jaw worked from side to side as I stared at him. His eyes had become more soulless the longer I’d been back. They had once started to soften for me. To lighten. But now they were almost black again. Just like when we first met. I wondered if I was becoming a liability for him. If soon he would need to get rid of me. Permanently.

“It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He sipped his whiskey as if we were having a casual conversation. Not a discussion about him locking me inside this house.

I slammed the glass back on the table. “You can’t keep me here.”

A wicked smile crossed his face. I fought the urge to squirm even as my panties dampened. I knew that look. That look had brought me both pain and pleasure.

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