“Could you move the cage upstairs? I haven’t seen the sun for days now. Please,” he begged, squeezing Taron’s forearm a bit more tightly, but didn’t dare pet it even with a fingertip.
Colin shouldn’t have been here in the first place, and they both knew it. If only Colin had stuck to his beaten path, he wouldn’t have to fear for his life, clean himself with a damp sponge, and pee in a bucket.
Missi rubbed her head against Taron’s knee, seeing none of her master’s actions as wrong. She reminded Colin of what he didn’t want to become - a being so comfortable she didn’t even know she was owned.
Taron scooted down and petted her head.
“Why won’t you talk to me? I have a lot to say, and I’m sure you miss people sometimes,” Colin tried.
Taron’s dark green gaze darted from Missi, and focused on Colin instead, making him shiver for no reason other but the intensity of the wild man’s gaze. He pulled his arm out of the grip, but before Colin could mourn another lost chance, he closed his hand on Colin’s fingers. If he did that much, he might as well state his intentions out loud and save Colin the guesswork.
His palm was rough and so warm Colin felt the heat transfer to him, triggering a tingle in his balls. This had been his intention in the first place, but having Taron finally respond to the gentle seduction had Colin shaken to the core. After so many days in this awful cellar, the only person around wanted to interact with him at last!
So maybe Taron wasn’t a good guy, but Colin couldn’t blame him for not wanting to spend the rest of his life in prison when he so clearly was a man of the outdoors. In a twisted way, it was a choice he respected, no matter how it ended up affecting him.
Without looking away, he gently moved his digits, petting the palm of Taron’s hand. “You must be lonely here. How long has it been?”
The long huff coming from Taron’s wide nose reminded Colin of the sounds made by aroused bulls, and he wasn’t sure if that comparison excited or frightened him. Should he wave the red cloth in front of the beast? What if Taron decided fucking was Colin’s only purpose and kept him as a sex slave? Would that be his life? He’d wasted so much time preparing for med school, and now it was to be in vain?
Missi went tense, the fur on her back bristling as she glanced toward the stairs. Before Colin could make a guess about what was going on, Taron stood and put his thick index finger across his lips in a universal order for silence.
A shudder went down Colin’s spine even before his ears caught the buzzing that got louder with each passing moment. A car.
Taron rushed upstairs followed by most of the cats that had come down with him, except for Rio who decided Colin’s thigh needed kneading.
The thud of boots was followed by the familiar bang of the trapdoor, but this time, the sound wasn’t completely muted, as if Taron decided he didn’t have time to lock the cellar. Colin’s skin tickled with trepidation, and he cupped his hands to his ear to amplify the sounds reaching to his ear from above. Rio was already purring, but Colin’s focus was elsewhere—in the world of sunshine and people. And knocking.
An uninvited guest? Did Taron have family who knew about the cage? Or worse, what if Taron did have accomplices, and he’d invited them to meet the new caged pet?
And what if this was Colin’s one chance to leave?
Though muted, the voices upstairs were clear enough.
“We know this is inconvenient, Hauff, but I’ve been told you were never great friends with Peter McGraw and so we want to check all the leads.”
The sudden realization what was going on hit Colin like a truck, knocking his brain off its well-known tracks and into the ditch. Peter McGraw. That had to be the poor dead guy’s name. Now that he was gone, it was only natural that there was a search underway. And who undertook searches and spoke of leads other than the police?
It was as if he were allowed to breathe clean air again, and in that moment, his lungs felt powerful enough to break glass with the voice they could produce. If Colin could hear the conversation all the way down here, it surely worked both ways. All he needed to do was shout.
Over here!
Help!
I’m trapped!
This man is a murderer!
Every time he inhaled and opened his mouth, silence was the only sound he produced.
The flood of what-ifs choked him and rendered him mute. What if Taron killed the policemen? Then, Colin’s fate would be sealed. He’d be considered a troublemaker to be disposed of. What if Taron fought the policemen and killed them, but got shot in the process? Colin would have starved before anyone found him.