Page 42 of The Freedom in Captivity

Even when, of all the moments between Rozelyn and me, it’s my worst one yet.

But it makes me happy because it’s a reminder.

A reminder of what love can do to one’s heart.

Rozelyn

For once, my ass isn’t numb. My feet aren’t arching from being forced to stand. My shoulders feel relaxed and unstretched.

No pain.

Just softness. A cloud.

I open my eyes, staring up at a white ceiling. No grimness of a basement ceiling. There’s a dark comforter over me and a scent way too familiar. I’m naked but warmer than I’ve been in days.

I’m in a bed.

By my side, an arm brandishes mine. Flynn’s skin briefly makes contact as he readjusts from where he’s asleep, his head on the pillow beside me.

I’m inFlynn’sbed.

With him sleeping, which is a sight I’ve never seen. All that hardness is gone from his expression, and he looks…peaceful. The comforter is resting on his hip, his body bare from the chest up. All his tattoos are on display, and he’scoveredin them, so I can’t make out individual ones.

I study the room, first glancing in the direction of the last place I recall—the bathroom. I was in the shower. I remember turning it on, standing beneath the water and quickly washing my hair with his shampoo, a scent so contradictory to my normal one. It felt heavenly to not only wash away the grime but to feel genuine warmth for the first time in days. The heat penetrated my skin and heated me straight to my bones.

That’s when the sleepiness started to increase. Remaining on my feet felt like an energy drain, but I wouldn’t miss the gift of that shower for anything in the world. I don’t recall sitting, or anything else.

Which means…I bring my attention back to Flynn, realization making me breathless. He carried me from the shower, likely once his fifteen-minute time limit passed. But instead of returning me to the basement, he tucked me into his bed.

And then went to sleep too.

Flynn’s asleep.

And I’m unhindered by anything. Unbound and free to roam.

Slowly, inch by inch, I slide from the bed, resting one foot on the ground, and then the other, before straightening. Every minor movement, I glance back, to make sure he’s still asleep.

And then…I don’t know. I need to pee, and escape is pointless. After all, I still need the Corsettis but not being tied to a metal pole is a nice change. To pace his small room and stretch my legs, to feel my wrists unbound.

In the bathroom, I find his shirt from yesterday and toss it on. There’s a comb on the back of the seat, which I use on my hair, now clean but still damp. The few minutes of self-care revitalizes me. Energizes me to continue Flynn’s game.

He’s still asleep when I return to the bedroom. In the far corner, I spot Flynn’s pants and that’s when it really hits. All the weapons he keeps on his body.

There’s probably one in here.

What’s the purpose?For the same reason I’m not escaping, I won’t fight him. But maybe something to have on me, just in case.

And hide it where?

Despite the purely logical questions, I rifle through his jeans and find the switchblade he’s so fond of. It’s heavy, a deep, blue-coloured handle. With it in hand, I stand, thumb stroking over the button that’ll open it.

In the next flash, my vision blurs. There’s a large arm banding my waist. I’m staring at the wall, and then the ceiling, my body flat on the soft bed, his hands pinning each of my wrists down to the mattress. I’m stuck, his legs on either side of my thighs. Somewhere in that, he managed to grab the knife from my hand and laid it on my chest.

Instead of irritation, his tone is soft. Seductive. Meant to lull and it seemingly works, considering my insides clench with desire. “What the fuck was your plan?”

“I don’t know,” I respond honestly. “How long were you awake?”

“Mon soleil, I’m a light sleeper. Always have been. Felt the moment you started to inch off the bed.”

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