With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of th
e bedroom.
“Wait!” I called after her as the door slammed shut.
I threaded my fingers through my hair, tugging at the coppery strands as I struggled to curb my mounting panic.
Master Andrés.
He’d claimed he was my Master now. And he’d proven how commanding and relentless he could be. Did he want to twist me into the same broken, fucked-up state as Lauren? She clearly felt some sort of perverted affection for him, even though she’d obviously been victimized.
I pressed my palms against my closed eyes and struggled to breathe normally.
I’ll get out of this. I have to.
I couldn’t end up like Lauren. I wouldn’t.
Chapter 5
I wasn’t sure how much time passed. Hours, surely. There wasn’t a clock in the bedroom, so my only concept of time was the sun intermittently peeking through the overcast clouds.
I’d never been forced to sit without mental stimulation for so long. Usually, if I wasn’t on my computer at home, I was at work. Even during my short commute, I passed the time on my smart phone. I rarely even watched TV or movies without also playing a game at the same time. My brain fired in too many different directions at once for me to focus on any one thing for long. Only digging deep into a case for the Bureau or a little side hacking just for shits and giggles could fully occupy my mind.
Now that I was forced to think about it, I doubted I’d gone longer than a waking hour without some sort of contact with technology in years. Possibly not since I was nine and got my first Gameboy.
I’d exhausted all avenues of possible escape from the bedroom within a very short time. Without Lauren’s help, I was powerless to free myself from the collar that kept me tethered to the bed. Quite literally, on a short leash.
The breakfast—now stone cold—taunted me from the tray. I hadn’t been provided with any utensils, likely because I would have devised some way to fashion them into weapons. Or possibly find a way to break my chains.
As it was, I had freaking bacon and breakfast potatoes. Like that would do me any good.
Well, my rumbling stomach told me I certainly could use the food, but I didn’t trust it. While I doubted Andrés would poison me, he’d proven he had no qualms about drugging me. I didn’t want to be unconscious and helpless again. Especially considering the fact that it had cost me my clothes the last time he’d drugged me. My only semblance of modesty now was the bedsheet, which I’d managed to wrap around me in an awkward toga. Maybe it would’ve been neater if I’d ever attended those fraternity parties in college, but I hadn’t been invited.
I hadn’t been interested in going, anyway.
I blew out a long breath and rubbed my forehead. Why was I thinking about college? Those weren’t my best memories, and I much preferred to sink into my work and my online persona rather than remembering those difficult years.
All my years before joining the Bureau and meeting Dex had been difficult, really. When I joined the FBI, I found a community where I was valued and respected. And I’d found a best friend who never judged me or pushed me to talk about personal, unpleasant things. Dex and I shared a special companionship, even though I wanted to be more than his companion.
But pursuing that path had been a mistake. My obsession with my friend and his darker sexual predilections had obviously fucked me up. I’d spent too many hours watching his kinky porn. I’d even followed him to a BDSM club on one particularly desperate Valentine’s Day, but he hadn’t noticed me watching him from the bar. He never noticed me, not the way I wanted him to.
My yearning for Dex was the only explanation for why my body reacted to Andrés’ twisted treatment with signs of desire. Fear might still grip my mind when he touched me, but my body didn’t seem to care that I was afraid.
I jolted when the bedroom door opened again. So annoying that Andrés hadn’t even bothered to lock it, but I couldn’t get close to it with this damn collar around my neck. It was like he did it to taunt me. Or to demonstrate his absolute power over me.
If that was his intention, I had to admit to myself that he was doing a pretty good job at it.
I scrambled upright from where I’d been laying dejected, staring up at the pretty crystal chandelier. I braced myself for the sight of Andrés’ hulking body and scarred face, but a different man appeared at the threshold. He was nearly as tall as my captor—a few inches over six feet—but his frame was wiry. He appeared to be as young as Lauren, a downy attempt at a dark blond beard only making him seem younger rather than more mature.
Also like Lauren, he behaved oddly. He didn’t so much as glance in my direction as he wheeled a cart of cleaning supplies into the room and headed for the bathroom.
“Hello,” I said tentatively.
He didn’t respond in any way; he just kept going about his business, which I assumed was to tidy the suite while Andrés was out.
“Um, hey.” I made an awkward wave to catch his attention.
No response. He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the sounds of scrubbing, but no words.