Three, he’s married. Although, I’m still not sure of the exact status or reason for that marriage. He’s still married. Unless he divorces, he can never truly be mine.
Four, the only reason he even gives me any time of day is because of the treasure. He still hasn’t told me why he wants the money. I suspect to get back at me for whatever horrible thing he thinks I’ve done.
And five, he killed Waylon.
There is too much to forgive, to forget, and to overcome for us to ever be together. Fucking Langston now would only lead to heartbreak later. But I need to keep all the reasons I can’t be with Langston fresh in my mind to fight my overwhelming feelings of lust for him. I’ve had a taste; that will have to be enough. I’m not sure my heart could take more.
“What are you thinking about so seriously?” Langston says without opening his eyes as he nestles into my chest.
“About how heavy your head is.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get up again. Your chest is too soft.”
He rubs his head against my breast.
I roll my eyes, but don’t brush him off me. I quite enjoy having him resting on me. I run my hand through his hair.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Horrible. My arms are throbbing, and I have shooting pains up and down my arm all the way through my back.”
He moans when I stroke his cheek.
“I’m so sorry. Do you want me to rub your back? Is there something I can do to help?”
He scrunches his face in agony. “I think a repeat of last night is the only way to relieve my pain.”
I break out into laughter, and he does the same as I swat him on the head. We both sit up.
“You horny bastard.” I playfully hit his chest.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “It was worth a try.”
“There’s a tray of food and water,” I say, pointing to the corner.
Langston tries to get up, but I put a hand on his chest. “I got it.” I walk over and pick up the tray before setting it down on the floor next to us.
Langston looks up, like he can’t believe food was lowered without us waking and noticing. I can’t believe it either.
Both of our stomachs growl, though, so any discussion of how we slept through the food being lowered will have to wait until we’ve finished eating.
There’s a couple of pieces of dry toast, peanut butter, and bananas. We eat everything on the plate and drink all of the water.
“We need a plan,” I say before I finish the last drop of water. We won’t survive much longer like this. We are getting fed, yes, but not enough to sustain us. We’ve both already lost a couple of pounds. Our injuries aren’t life-threatening so far, but that doesn’t mean it will remain that way for long.
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Yes, actually.”
He grins. “My huntress is always the best at coming up with the plans.”
“I suspect that we will once again be darted. That seems to be our captor’s MO. He doesn’t want us to know who he is. I don’t know if we can avoid being hit entirely by the darts, but we can pull them out as soon as it hits us, so that hopefully we don’t get a full dose, and we can remember more about our torture. Our goal after we are darted and raised should be to gather as much information as we can.”
“Your goal should be to run if you can. If you get an opportunity to get out, you take it. Don’t worry about me.”
I won’t agree to that, not unless I think I can get help to rescue Langston.
“I doubt we will have that opportunity unless we can avoid getting hit entirely by the darts. If we are even partially drugged, it will make it hard to run.”