Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I tipped my head back and looked at the bar that the handcuffs were attached to. It was one solid piece of metal that allowed horizontal mobility. But no matter how much I tugged and yanked, it got me nowhere, the handcuffs just sliding back and forth on the metal.
I rested my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes for a second. I was used to the mustiness of the bed I was on and opened my eyes again. I turned my head to look at the candle that sat on the bedside table. The second one was on the other side of me, an identical stick of wax that let out the same muted yellow glow.
The flame danced slowly, and I was tempted to blow a long breath over that little tip of fire. Maybe plunging myself into darkness would make this all go away. Maybe I was dreaming and I’d wake up.
But as my ankle ached and my wrists burned, not to mention my palm reminding me I’d sliced it in the woods, I knew this was very much real.
I felt so exhausted mentally and physically. How long ago had that been when I felt that darkness coming over me in the forest? How long had I been unconscious?
I was pissed, so, so angry, and even if I should have felt terrified, strangely enough… I wasn’t. By the situation, yes. But the man keeping me chained to a bed? I didn’t feel any fear, and that in itself was frightening.
“What do you plan on doing with me? How long are you keeping me here?”
I thought about how strongly he’d spoken, how weirdly he’d worded things. He’d talked about mates, which seemed so… animalistic. He was clearly Scottish with his thick brogue, but I’d heard him speak another language—Gaelic, I’d come to assume, given his clear heritage.
The last thing I’d said to him played through my mind. He hadn’t answered me, just watched me so intently I’d felt it. And then he growled—fucking growled like an animal—and turned to stalk out of the room. He’d shut the door hard, slammed it so forcefully the lone picture frame hanging on the wall shook and threatened to fall.
I stared at the picture now, the frame cockeyed, the image of the countryside looking old as hell and faded from the sun. I let my gaze travel to the only window in the room, a large one with thick drapes that were slightly pulled open. I could see pieces of light starting to touch the horizon. I could imagine those curtains being pulled all the way to the sides and the sun coming through and hitting that picture. How many years had it done that, fading the image out until there was hardly anything left?
I grimaced as I shifted on the bed, the discomfort of my injuries, having to go to the bathroom, and then my stomach letting out a loud rumble to inform me I hadn’t eaten in a while. My throat was also tight and parched, thirst making its presence known too.
I stared at my ankle, the splint keeping it straight, although I was doing one hell of a job screwing things up and probably hurting myself even more.
God, I was a wreck.
I’d heard a door open and close shortly after my captor left, and I redoubled my efforts to try to escape.
“Hey, asshole,” I yelled out, knowing it was dumb as hell to piss my captor off, but I was frustrated, mentally tired, and didn’t give a shit right now.
I strained against the handcuffs once more, kicking out my legs before digging my good heel into the too-stiff mattress. But it was hard to do that with one foot and the other splinted and hurting with any movement.
Even though I knew this wouldn’t get me anywhere, I let my anger and frustration slam into me, giving me a burst of power. And then it fizzled away as soon as it came about. I let my body sink back into the mattress, my head against the pillow as I stared up at the ceiling.
The wood beams crisscrossed above me, the lights from the twin candles flickering overhead and causing shadows. I turned my head the other direction, staring at the fireplace mantel, looking cold and unused. The room seemed outdated, as in from another time, well before I was even a thought in anyone’s mind.
And then I heard the heavy footfalls on the other side of the door, and my entire body tensed.
I lifted my head off the pillow and stared at the closed door, expecting it to crash open, my throat tightening uncomfortably. But the footsteps stopped right on the other side, and when I looked under the crack of the door, I could see faint light spilling through underneath. The twin shadows were clearly his booted feet… high ones at that.