Fury burned in his eyes.
He released me so he could pick up the gun. I was thrown across the room and hurtled into the wall, getting a face full of green wallpaper. I stopped moving, or breathing, or thinking, when Luka pinned my hand to the smooth paper with the barrel of his gun. It was the same hand I’d slapped him with.
“How successful of a surgeon can you be with one hand?” he snarled. “Do that again and you’ll find out.”
The gun drew away, and was probably tucked back in the waistband of his pants where it had been when he’d come into the room. I stood stock still as his fingers found the pull on the zipper at the back of my dress. He tugged it down, and as soon the dress was open, his hand dove inside and undid the clasp of my bra.
“You’ve lost the privilege of clothes.” He clenched a handful of the dress by my shoulder and jerked down aggressively. “Off.”
I complied immediately. I’d known there’d be retaliation, and had already accepted it. The dress and bra fell away from my body and I stepped backward out of them.
“Go into the bathroom and wash your hand.”
I didn’t look at him or myself in the mirror. I performed the task and ran the cold tap over my sliced fingers. They’d stopped bleeding, at least.
“Is there any glass in the cut?” He asked it, but then checked for himself. He held my wounded hand up in the light and examined. I stared at his arm. The scratch had barely bled at all. Luka seemed satisfied and marched me back into the bedroom.
His command made me go boneless. “Get on your knees.”
He wouldn’t kill me, I reminded myself. He’d have done it already. He also wouldn’t have examined my cut for glass if he was about to perform an execution. I knelt on the carpet, sat back on my heels, and wrapped my arms around myself.
Luka carefully picked up the bits of glass and tossed them into the wastebasket with a soft clink. Then he lifted the black duffel bag up and set it on the loveseat, searching through it.
He found whatever it was he was looking for. It was a thick, black leather circle, and the thin metal chain attached gleamed in the soft light. There was a leather loop at the end, signifying what this was, and my stomach turned.
A collar and leash.
“I expected you to try something,” Luka said, as he worked to undo the buckle. “I’m not angry, but your behavior is not acceptable.”
I dug my fingers into my arms, strengthening myself to stay still. The only part of me that moved as the collar descended around my throat was my rapidly heaving chest. The leather was thick and cold, covering two inches of my neck.
“Lift your hair.”
I scooped it up and held it out of his way as Luka buckled the oppressive collar. It wasn’t too tight, but it wasn’t physically comfortable either. When it was done, the long metal chain hung down my bare back, swinging slightly and the cold metal kissed my skin.
Luka dangled something in front of me. A small combination lock.
“This has four dials on it,” he said. “Each with ten numbers including the zero. How many possible combinations does it have?”
My heart sank. “Ten thousand.”
It clicked into place at the base of my neck, locking the collar on me. His firm hand dipped under my arm and hauled me to my feet, then shoved me toward the bed. “Lie down.”
Once again, I followed his orders. I’d drawn blood from him, albeit less than I wanted to, so I’d achieved my goal. Now the adrenaline was fading and I was exhausted both physically and emotionally. I lay down on the sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling and expecting him to climb on top of me.
He didn’t.
Another combination lock was held in front of my eyes, showing me ten thousand more numbers I wouldn’t guess. The leash was run through the headboard cutout, and the top of the lock threaded through the leather loop and a link of chain. That left me with five feet of slack. I could get off the bed, but that was the limit of my range.
I peered up at him, fearful, but his expression was blank. He glanced down my body and back up again, giving me no hint of what he was thinking.
“Good night, Addison.”
Then he went to the door, turned off the lights, and left.
π
I woke with a start. It was morning, and the smell of coffee lingered in the room. I turned my head to find Luka sitting on the same loveseat as yesterday. He wore jeans and a navy blue v-neck, his fingers casually wrapped around the handle of a mug while he stared at his phone.