Page 12 of Keeping My Captive

I lay there, still and quiet, my ragged breaths the only sound around me. I can’t hear him, but I can sense someone in the car with me. His scent envelops me — earthy, woodsy with a hint of cinnamon and tobacco — and I don’t know why, but it calms me for just a moment.

“Please,” I beg. I have no idea who is here, but I need them to help me out of this situation. “Please help me.”

A metallic click has my senses going wild. Is that a…switchblade?

Fingers wrap around one of my bound wrists, and I jump. “Stay still if you don’t want to get cut,” a deep voice demands before I hear him slicing through the rope.

As soon as I’m free, I pull away from him and yank the hood from my head. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then his face slowly comes into focus.

I don’t know what I was expecting, considering this is a person who kidnaps and buys women, but it definitely wasn’t this. The man sitting across from me is devastatingly handsome, beautiful even, with bow-shaped lips, bronze skin, black hair, and dark chocolate eyes that are narrowed in on me. His strong jaw is clenched as he watches me intently, and I have a feeling his attractiveness is probably the same type that serial killers use to lure in their unsuspecting victims.

Even though he’s currently seated, I can tell that he’s tall. Very tall, in fact. He’s dressed in an expensive, black tailored suit, and I can see numerous tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves and collar. My eyes are drawn to the tats on his neck, and I can’t seem to look away. Everything about him screamsdanger.

“What’s your name?” he asks, drawing my gaze back to his.

Should I tell him? I’ve watched a lot of true crime documentaries. I know that telling him my name might help. He won’t just see me as an empty shell. He might see me as actually human, and maybe he won’t hurt me.

Yeah, right,I internally scoff. I grew up around made men, and I can spot one from a mile away. And the man sitting across from me is definitely dangerous and probably kills for fun.

“Aria,” I whisper.

“Aria,” he says, his tongue rolling on theRand sending a shiver through me. “You are twenty-one years old?” he questions.

I nod slowly.

“Where did they take you from? Where did you live?” he presses.

I think back to the words my father told me once.If anyone ever kidnaps you, don’t give them any information that could lead you back to us. We will never stop looking for you, and we will find you. But don’t give them an advantage. Don’t ever give up the information that could lead them to us first.

I stare out the window, refusing to answer him. The car begins to move, slowly driving down a gravel road. “What are you going to do with me?” I ask. I want to ask if he’s going to kill me and make a skin suit out of my flesh, but I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to be the type, but you never know. Look at Ted Bundy. He looked normal, handsome, charming even, and he was a certified freak.

“I don’t know yet,” is his vague response.

“Are you going to rape me?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

This gets me a reaction. A dangerous one. His dark eyes narrow and a sneer appears on his face as he vehemently states, “I don’t rape women.”

While that should make me feel better, it doesn’t. He could just be saying that and go against his word later on. I mean, he did just pay seven million dollars for a virgin. He also might be trying to gain my trust and get me to put my guard down.Never gonna happen.Frowning, I lean my head against the window as I try to hold myself together. It’s hard, but I manage to do it. I don’t want to break down in front of this guy.

The car stops a few minutes later. I stare out the window, trying to gauge my surroundings, but it’s nighttime, and I can’t see much.

“I have to put this back on your head,” he says, indicating to the black hood.

Panic instantly runs through me. I don’t want to be back in that thing. It’s hard to breathe, and I can already feel my lungs seizing up on just the memory of wearing it.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, he sighs heavily. “I can keep your wrists unbound if you behave, but the hood is a must,” he demands.

I glance around the car. I mean, what choice do I have? This man bought me.He owns me.Just the thought of that sends a shudder through me.

If I’m going to do this, any of this, I’m doing it on my own terms. Angrily, I rip the hood from his hands and place it over my head. Instantly, I’m greeted with my panicked, warm breaths, but I will myself to calm down. Eventually, breathing becomes easier, and I force myself to focus on the fact that my wrists won’t be bound. At least I’ll stand a fighting chance if anything goes down, and I can rip the hood off at any given moment. At least I hold that power.

“Buena niña,” he whispers gruffly in what I’m assuming is his native tongue.

I recognize it as Spanish, which is not one of the three languages I speak. I know English, Italian and some French. Never had the use to study Spanish, but I know some of the basic words. I think he saidgood girl, but I’m not totally sure. God, I wish I would have spent some time learning it, though. Not that I could have known that I would have been kidnapped and sold to a man that speaks that specific language, however. Nope, never would have guessed that fate for myself.

Sighing, I rest my head against the seat. My entire body is wired with adrenaline, but my brain is exhausted. I feel like I could fall asleep at any given moment, but there is no way I can let myself relax, let alone sleep. Even though this man hasn’t touched me yet, I have no doubt in my mind that he will. Eventually, he will want what he’s clearly paid a lot of money for. Seven million dollars, in fact.

My hands clench into fists on my lap. I will never give myself over to him willingly. If he thought he bought a docile doll, he’s got another thing coming. I will never stop fighting until one of us is dead.

---