Текст книги "Seduced in the Dark"
Автор книги: C. J. Roberts
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
Caleb clenched his jaw with so much force he could hear it popping. “It’ll be fine, Rafiq. I can do it,” he bit out. “Stop questioning me. I know what I need to do. That’s all I think about.”
“What about the hostages you’ve taken? What are your plans for them?”
“Revenge. Naturally.”
Rafiq laughed, “There you are, Khoya. I’d begun to worry. Do try to keep your head this time, from what I hear, the pair might prove useful to us.”
A strange feeling bloomed in Caleb’s chest, “Where are you?”
“Close.”
“Fine. I assume I’ll see you soon.” He hung up, annoyed.
Kitten stepped out of the bathroom looking a bit lost. Last night had put them on different footing and now it was up to Caleb to maintain the status quo he had created between them. He set his phone on the table and walked toward his captive. She stilled as he approached, her eyes set upon the floor and her hands clasped in front of her. Her nervousness was obvious, but alluring nonetheless.
Caleb swept his hand down her face, careful not to press on her bruises and swept her hair back over her shoulder. “Whenever you enter a room and your purpose is unclear, always kneel next to your master.” Kitten did not hesitate to comply, though her movements were slow as she struggled toward the ground.
“Good,” Caleb whispered, “now spread your knees and sit back on your ankles with your hands on your thighs and your head bowed. Your master should be able to see every part of you and know you will not move until you’re told. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Kitten whispered with some hesitation, “Master.” Tentatively, she moved her limbs into position. She wore a nightgown and her body was not visible to Caleb, but he knew her body well enough to know what he was missing and his body unwittingly responded.
“Leet sawm k’leet sue is Russian. When you hear the command, you will lie on your back with your knees spread and lifted toward your chest. Hold your legs behind your knees.” Kitten broke position and stared up at him with a pleading expression.
Caleb’s breath stuttered into his lungs from his excitement. At last, she was compliant, and his to command. The feeling was heady, but made somewhat hollow because he was teaching her the commands in Russian. “Leet sawm k’leet sue,” he repeated. His expression was hard, his eyes serious.
Kitten’s mouth tilted downward at the corners in a slight grimace, her chin trembling with her effort not to cry, but she nodded. In achingly slow degrees, she put herself flat on the ground. She looked up at the ceiling and the tears she had been holding fell down the sides of her face into her hair.
This was hard for her, Caleb knew it would be, but it was the easiest thing she could do compared to the journey ahead. There was guilt on his part, but also desire, intense desire that thrummed in his veins. The guilt was nothing when pitted against his desire to have Kitten at his mercy. If that made him sick and depraved, he’d accepted it a long time ago. “Your legs, Kitten. Let’s have it.”
He watched as her knees began to bend and he nearly doubled over with want as her hands pulled at the nightgown, raising it over her knees and up her thighs. He hadn’t expected her to bare herself to him, but she was. His cock began to stir to the beat of his speeding heart, filling, lengthening and begging to show itself. Kitten raised her knees toward her chest, her hands fisting the nightgown at her waist. Her pussy was clearly visible, the pink lips spread and flushed, her tiny clit peeking out from beneath its hood. Caleb drew a sharp breath and swallowed.
He could stare at her forever, but his desire was not the purpose of this exercise. It was the most concise manner of re-establishing their roles. There would be no outbursts today, no arguments on the road, no confusion about whether or not he would spare her. “You really are beautiful there, Kitten.”
She whimpered.
“Excuse me?” he snapped.
“Thank you, Master” she corrected.
“Very good, Kitten. You can put your legs down now.” Her movements were quicker than he thought possible with her injuries, but he declined to comment. He also ignored her sniffling. “Lye zhaash chee means, prone. Do you understand the word?”
Kitten sobbed as she nodded, “Yes, Master.”
“Over on your stomach then.”
“It’ll hurt,” she said.
“Attempt it at the very least. Always try to obey. Let me worry about what you can and cannot handle, return to the rest position, with your back to me,” Caleb said. His words were clipped and brooked no argument. “Lye zhaash chee.”
A mewling sound burst past Kitten’s lips, but she quickly pressed her lips together and held her breath as she struggled, like a turtle flipped on its shell, to roll over. Caleb hesitated to help her and it reminded him of the first time she had disobeyed him and he had slapped her breasts a rosy pink until she obeyed. It seemed like ages ago.
It took a minute or two, but finally she was in the rest position. Caleb admired the way her ass rested on her bare feet. “Now lean your body forward with your ass in the air. Normally, you have your arms stretched out in front of you, but for now, keep them wherever it’s most comfortable.
Kitten was stoic as she did what she was told. She chose to keep her arms crossed over her chest, letting the side of her face rest against the ground. The nightgown obstructed Caleb’s view. He stepped forward and gathered the fabric up over the soft cheeks of her ass.
“Oh, Kitten. I do like you like this. So much.” His words held nothing but truth. He couldn’t resist palming her lightly splayed cheeks and opening them slowly. Kitten trembled, but remained otherwise still beneath his questing fingers. “Can I touch you?” he asked, with a hint of challenge.
There was silence for a few seconds and then she answered, “Yes, Master.” Caleb smiled, it was exactly the answer he wanted and exactly the one she should give. She was learning.
“That’s good, Kitten. I’m proud of you,” he said. He stroked the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kitten let out a gust of breath, Caleb, interpreted as desperation. This was a lot for her to handle so soon after the trauma of the last few days. She’d done well, and he really was proud of her. It was enough.
He pulled the nightgown back into place and urged her back into her rest position. Tears tracked down her cheeks and her face was most definitely worse for wear, but Caleb kissed her wet cheeks anyway as he helped her regain her calm.
After he gave her more medicine for her pain, he calmly fed her breakfast while she sat quietly between his knees, accepting all he had to give her.
Chapter Eight
Day 9:
Dr. Sloan doesn’t ask me why I’m crying and I assume it’s because she figures she knows. I would rather she ask me. “I know what you’re thinking,” I say, but it sounds like an accusation.
Dr. Sloan clears her throat, “What am I thinking?”
“That Caleb is awful, that he’s cruel and I’m stupid for loving him.”
She shakes her head, somewhat wryly and responds in a way I perceive as clinical, “I don’t think you’re stupid at all. If anything, I think you’re extraordinarily brave.”
I scoff. “Right. I’m brave. Reed said the same thing.”
I hear the scratching of her pen as she makes more notes, “Well then, you have a second opinion now. You don’t think your actions were brave?”
“Not especially. I think I just did what I had to do. Caleb’s always saying a person has to do what they must in order to survive. Survival is the only thing that matters.”
“You don’t think surviving is brave?”
“I don’t know. Do you think that guy who cut off his arm because he was trapped by a boulder was brave? It’s just instinct.”
“It’s called fight or flight and one is certainly braver than the other, depending on the circumstances. Under your circumstances, what you did was very brave. You’re here, Olivia. You survived.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I don’t like it.”
“Would you prefer, Miss Ruiz? Agent Reed says you don’t mind that as much.”
“Yeah? What else did he say about me?”
She smiles coyly and suddenly I find myself suspicious of their relationship. I don’t like the fact they talk about me. “We’re required to discuss the case, Miss Ruiz. We exchange all notes and information as well as any insights we might have. I did tell you all of this.”
“I know. What did he say about me?” I have a strange curiosity about Reed that hasn’t abated. I don’t know what it is about him, but there’s definitely something.
“He said you’re a brat,” she says, but her eyes smile. I smile a little too. Reed didn’t say that at all.
“Back to the subject. Why don’t you think you’re brave?”
I sigh, “I don’t know. I guess…I’m here and that’s what Caleb wants.” An uncomfortable silence settles between us. I’m lost in my thoughts. What, Caleb, wants. I thought I did everything he wanted, I tried my very best to make him happy, but in the end…I guess it doesn’t matter.
“You keep referring to him in the present tense, why?”
I can see his face in my mind’s eye, so beautiful, so sad. There’s blood smudged across his cheek, but I don’t care. I’m not squeamish any more. It’s the face of the man I love, the only one I’ve ever loved and it’s difficult to imagine there will ever be another. I wipe more tears away. That bastard. “It’s easier,” I finally answer, “I don’t like the idea he’s gone.”
Sloan nods. “Go ahead, tell me what happened next.”
“Nothing much really, after breakfast he helped me get dressed. Then he tied me to the bed, gagged me, and left for a few hours.” I know where he went now – he went to the bank, but I don’t know if I should tell Sloan or not. Then again, Reed already knows about the money. “He went to the bank,” I add. Sloan flips through her paperwork and writes something down.
“Why isn’t Reed here? Why the both of you at different times?”
“Agent Reed and I have different job descriptions. He’s interested in the case; I’m interested in your well-being as well as the case.”
“So he doesn’t give a shit about what happens to me, is what you’re saying.” I’m not shocked by the information; it’s something I already knew to be true, but still, it stings to hear it from someone else.
“I didn’t say that. Please don’t put words in my mouth,” Sloan says. I think I’ve made her uncomfortable, but I can’t say for what reason. “Agent Reed says you kissed him?”
My eyes open wide and my mouth is slightly agape. I can’t believe he told her! Why would he do that! “So!?!” My face is heating up, and I’m positive it stems in equal parts from anger and embarrassment.
This is a side of Sloan I haven’t seen yet, her brow is arched and her mouth is a little tight at the corners. “I’m not your enemy. Please stop acting like I am. He told me because he’s concerned for you and the only reason I bring it up is because you were just telling me he doesn’t care about you.”
“Fine! I kissed him.” I look away from Sloan and toward the windows. Only Reed uses the kindergarten interrogation room to talk to me. I probably make him nervous. Good.
“Why?”
“Because he had something I wanted.” The words fall right out of my mouth and although I know the picture they paint of me, I can’t say I care. I’m fixated on the pigeon walking back and forth outside my window. I’m envious of the pigeon. It doesn’t have a care in the world beyond eating, sleeping, and defecating on park statues. That’s the life.
“Is that the only reason?” She’s trying to keep her words innocent, but I know nothing she says is innocent, not even her stories about interpretive taxidermy. It would be easy to forget Sloan is a member of the FBI and she’s trained to handle cases like mine. She comes off as very empathetic, and even a little vulnerable herself, but she wouldn’t be where she is today if she weren’t a wolf under that wool suit.
My head swivels toward her and away from the window. I make myself smile brazenly, “Are you jealous, Janice?”
She doesn’t miss a beat, “Of what, Olivia?” I smile again and this time there’s an answering smile on her face. Yeah, Sloan has teeth. I like teeth.
We go back and forth for several minutes. She asks me a question and I turn it around to pose the same question of her and she turns it back on me again. It would seem like useless conversation, but I think we’re both learning little things about one another with each exchange. Still, I’d rather be talking to Reed. I tell Sloan as much.
“That isn’t unusual, you know. Some victims of abuse tend to gravitate toward strong, authoritative men…like Agent Reed. They also tend to mimic the behavior expected of them by their abusers, especially when that behavior is of a sexual nature.”
I feel like she’s just doused me in hot oil. “Don’t. Don’t do that bullshit psychotherapy crap on me. It was a fucking kiss, not a pledge of my undying devotion. And for the record, I’m not some broken rape victim you have to put back together. I’m fine.” I’m crying again and I hate myself for it. Why won’t my face stop leaking!
“I’m sorry, Livvie. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sloan says. She sounds sincere and that almost pisses me off more than her suggestion I’m some basket-case.
Aren’t you? You don’t know who you are anymore. You have no place to go from here.
“I think we’re good for today. Do you want to stop? We can go have some lunch in the cafeteria. Maybe play some cards in the rec room, or maybe checkers? I love checkers.”
“Sloan?”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing it again.” I wipe the tears off of my face and blow my nose with some tissues – funny how they’re ready and waiting by my bed.
Sloan lets out a deep sigh and leans back in her chair. Her expression is inscrutable, as though not even she knows what she is feeling, or thinking, or wanting to say. Finally though, she nods slightly to herself and opens her mouth. “I don’t think you’re broken. I don’t mean to ‘psychoanalyze’ you, well…” she laughs without humor, “at least, not out loud, but I do think there are some cracks to be filled in. You’ve been through so much in the last few months, and I’m incredibly impressed all you have are cracks. You should be broken, but you’re not. Cracks can be mended and believe it or not, you have a lot of people who want to help you mend.”
I swallow really hard. I don’t want to cry any more. I don’t know what I want, except for Caleb. I think I would gladly go back to the mansion, if it meant I could be with Caleb again. I would live it, all over again. I know it isn’t healthy and I worry that maybe, just maybe, Sloan and Reed are right. I’m fucked in the head and nothing I feel is real.
“You don’t know what you want, Livvie, and what you think you want, you’ve been brainwashed into wanting.”
Even Caleb said my love isn’t real, but…I feel it. I feel my love for him more strongly and deeply than anything I have ever felt in my life. I think if it turns out they’re right and I am wrong…that will break me. Survival…it’s the most important thing.
***
It’s been an okay morning, I guess. I didn’t care for talking with Sloan, but playing checkers with her was slightly amusing. I could tell she was still analyzing me as we played, asking loaded questions beneath the guise of conversation, but for the most part we just talked about life outside the walls of the hospital. I missed a lot of things over the summer.
For starters, I missed graduation. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I suppose I don’t really care, but it’s strange not to. It had seemed so important four months ago. I guess I’m still a graduate. My grades were exemplary before I left.
Left, that’s funny.
Nicole started college. She’s called the hospital a few times and we’ve chatted a little – not about anything important. I avoid that. She’s offered to leave school for a few weeks and visit me, but I asked her not to bother. I’m fine and I have a lot of stuff going on anyway. It was shockingly easy to get her to agree not to come. Life goes on. Even if yours is over.
Sloan has left the building, but she says she’ll be back later today. As if I’d asked or even wanted her here; the woman is daft. I’ll take: Answers to questions no one has asked, for $100, Alex. Still, I wish I had something to do besides lie in bed and watch TV. I’ve raided the library, but it’s all so unimpressive.
Reed is supposed to come interview (more like interrogate) me soon and I can’t help but feel a little excited about seeing him and talking to him. When he gets angry with me I can almost see Caleb in his brown eyes. It’s silly, but I almost live for those little glimpses.
I’m not sore anymore, haven’t been in days. My bruises are gone and my scrapes are scabbed over. When they heal, it will be as if all evidence of my time with Caleb has been erased. I wrap my arms around my stomach and squeeze until the thought passes. If you had told me a month ago, I’d be sad to have unmarked skin, I’d have called you stupid and smacked you around for good measure. But here I am: a girl without a mark, and without a reason to keep moving forward.
“That’s not true, Pet. You have every reason,” Caleb’s specter whispers in my ear. I don’t know if hearing his voice in my head makes me crazy, but I don’t care either way. It’s what I have left after the scrapes heal. I can’t give him up. Besides, I know the voice isn’t real, no matter how much I wish it were.
I like to play his voice in my head at night, when the hospital is quieter and I can concentrate on making him as real as I can. I spread my legs and finger myself to the memory of his mouth sucking on my tits and his fingers flicking back and forth over my clit. If I try really, really hard, I can hear him, feel him, even fabricate the smell of him – but I can never get him to kiss me. I usually cry after I come. That’s exactly the kind of thing I don’t tell Sloan. I’m fairly certain she’d have a field day with that information.
I make use of my time waiting for Reed; I take a shower and put on the oh-so-sexy hospital lunatic outfit they give me to wear: gray pants and shirt. You would think they’d have something more cheerful given the scenery, but then I think of the crafts room and decide it’s just as well. My skin tone does not do yellow. My lunch arrives and I pick through the soggy carrots, eat the gravy covered, yet still tasteless beef, and drink my milk. I eat the green Jell-O too. Caleb fed me better food during my kidnapping than these people. I laugh at my own joke.
“Something funny, Miss Ruiz?” I look up from my tray and see Reed.
“Yes,” I say, “something is very funny, Reed.” He smiles, no teeth, but it’s still pretty nice just the same. I wonder if Reed has a girlfriend. He’s not wearing a wedding ring. What would Reed’s girlfriend be like?
“Care to share, or do you have to extort more concessions out of me first?” he says and casually walks into my room and stands at the foot of my bed.
“You’re funny, Reed. Me extort you, that’s rich.” He smiles again and shrugs. I mimic him. “I was laughing because the food here is awful and Caleb fed me way better stuff. Seems like this place is real captivity.”
“Say the word and I’ll have you transferred to The Pentagon; I hear they serve amazing spaghetti every Thursday.” He sets his briefcase on the chair and leans against the wall.
“Gee, thanks. But I think I’ll just put up with the horrible food. If I’m going anywhere from this place, it’ll be to my new digs in whatever mid-western town you’ve decided to hide me in.” I give him my sweetest, condescending smile. “How’s that going by the way?”
Reed shakes his head, unfazed. Not that I really expected to get a reaction from him, this guy just doesn’t lose his cool…unless you make out with him. I smile again, wider, all teeth, and my smile isn’t remotely sweet. The idea has promise, as it seems to be the only thing we have in common.
“Let’s get right down to it then, Miss Ruiz. I’ve been doing some more research on your boyfriend and his terrorist friends and I have a few questions for you, starting with: When did you meet Muhammad Rafiq?”
Leave it to Reed to ruin any semblance of a pleasant moment. The man is an automaton and his programming is set to one objective: get the bad guys by any means necessary. I would respect him if he weren’t trying to ruin my whole life. Just another way he reminds me of Caleb. “That’s not where we left off, Reed. You said I could tell you the whole story.”
He sighs. “Dr. Sloan called me after she left the hospital. I’ll get all of her notes later, but for now, she said the only thing to come out of your time with her today was an acknowledgment it was Caleb who left you the money in Zacatecas. Two-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars is a lot of money to transfer and deposit for a girl he planned on selling. I definitely want to talk about that, but for now the important thing is to find out more about Rafiq. When did you meet him?”
Reed has been here for less than ten minutes and he’s already managed to royally piss me off. “I didn’t know that’s what he was doing. I didn’t know until later he’d left me the money.” It takes me a second, but then the rest of his words sink in and then I’m angry with Sloan as well, the only thing to come out of our three hour talk is that Caleb went to the bank? That’s pretty cold. Everyone around me is just full of surprises lately.
“Rafiq, Miss Ruiz. When did you meet him?” Reed has apparently decided to forgo the imposing environment of the craft room and interrogate me in my room. Fine with me.
“He was there when we got to Tuxtepec,” I whisper. This isn’t a part of the story I want to tell, but I know it’s what I have to do. The truth is – I want Reed to make it to that auction. I want him to round up those bastards and free those slaves. I owe it to them. I owe it to myself. I owe it to Caleb. “He’d been waiting for us.”
Reed and I are silent for a moment. He pulls a recorder out of his jacket pocket, presses the record button and puts it down on the bed. “It’ll help me go through your statement later. I know this is hard, Miss Ruiz. I also know, you think I want to make it that way, but I don’t. I just want to do my job and make these people pay for what they’ve done, to you, and to so many other women and children. There are children there too…did you know that?” I shake my head. I hate him for putting that thought in my head. I can’t stand the thought of a child suffering. No more jokes or banter. Reed quietly lifts his briefcase and sets it on the ground before he sits down.
I clear my throat and lick my lips. This is where the real story begins.
***
I don’t know exactly what time it was when we arrived, but the sun had set not too long before. Caleb and I hadn’t done much talking on the way. I didn’t really have anything to say to him that wouldn’t result in him punishing me.
My heart pounded a sharp tattoo in my chest as we made our way down the seemingly endless driveway. The person who owned this house definitely had a lot of money and demanded a lot of privacy. Large trees hid our destination, but I could see the glow of lights in the distance. Soon. Soon, I would lose everything that was ever important to me.
I berated myself for not making more attempts to escape, even if I could barely walk, let alone run. Still, even if I died in the process, I felt like I should have tried again. Death had to be better than what I had coming. I knew once he got me inside that house I would be a sex slave for the rest of my life. I know Caleb said two years, but I just didn’t have any faith in that. How could I?
“Don’t cry, Kitten. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Obey and you’ll be fine.” Caleb’s words were supposed to soothe me, but his tone was somewhat deadpan. It seemed not even he, believed what he said.
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself and closed my eyes to try and find my bearing. I could do this, I kept telling myself. I could survive. I could get well enough to escape. I couldn’t lose hope. Someone would come for me.
Abruptly, the truck stopped and a man wearing a tuxedo asked Caleb for his invitation. I was tempted to shout for help, but something told me the man knew exactly why I was being brought here and the last thing I needed was to prove to Caleb he’d been right about me. I would try to escape at the first opportunity. It was true, but he didn’t need to have that kind of certainty.
“I don’t have an invitation, but I was invited: Caleb.”
His name, that’s all it took. The man waved us on and a little further up the driveway Caleb stopped the vehicle, came around to my door and gripping me by the arm, pulled me slowly up the walkway while someone else took the truck.
“I can walk!” I shrugged out of Caleb’s grasp, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. I was sobbing, completely unable to stop. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
You’re going to die in there. Stop marching to your own fucking doom!
I stopped walking. “Caleb. Please, please don’t make me go in there. Please. Please!” I turned to run, but Caleb’s arms surrounded me before I managed to take my first step. I struggled and pain radiated from every part of my body, but especially my shoulder.
Caleb’s hand covered my mouth as he pressed his body against my back and held me immobile. “Kitten, don’t you dare!” he half whispered, half growled into my ear. “I warned you not to use my name. I warned you not to run from me. You are going inside one way or another and there is nothing you can do about it. Accept it. Breathe and accept it.”
I whimpered and sobbed behind his hand, but I had to admit being held by him was slowly bringing me back toward center. My panic was palpable, literally thrumming and pulsing in my veins, but Caleb’s arms were strong. Caleb was solid. My muscles strained and the pain was approaching unbearable. I willed myself to relax my body in degrees and I noticed Caleb’s fingers also relaxed.
He slowly withdrew his hand from my mouth. I gasped for breath and sobbed. “Shh.” He stroked my hair as he continued to hold me up. “I know it’s terrifying. I know you’re scared. I’m trying to make this as simple as I can, but you cannot disobey me. If anyone believes I am not your master…. It will be bad, Kitten. Do you understand?”
I gripped Caleb’s arm, wrapped around my midsection. Don’t leave me, I silently screamed. Don’t leave me. I nodded slowly and let Caleb’s touch comfort me and reassure me he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. So long as I obeyed Caleb, I was his and no one could hurt me. No one, but Caleb.
We walked the rest of the way in silence, but Caleb let me hold his hand. I knew he’d eventually punish me for my outburst, but that was later. At the moment, his anger was tempered and his hand was warm and strong against mine. Caleb was finished comforting me the moment we reached the large wooden door of the enormous estate. My entire body trembled, but I kept my head down and tried to breathe. My safety was assured, so long as my obedience could be expected. It could be a lie, but doubt was something my fragile psyche could ill afford.
Caleb rang the bell and after a few seconds, there was a metal clang and the door creaked open. “Buenas tardes, Señor….”
I tuned out while Caleb and the man who answered the door talked. In the place of their conversation, I heard a high-pitched screech. I felt dizzy, too, but somewhere in my head, I knew it was only my panic and adrenaline doing this to me. I forced air in and out of my lungs at a steady pace, willing myself not to hyperventilate.
Caleb’s hand at the small of my back urged me forward and somehow I did it: I took that first step toward my own annihilation. Then I took another and another, my eyes watched my feet as they continued to carry me.
Music played in the background as we walked and soon I couldn’t help but notice the place looked like a lavish hotel. The floors were made of marble, and use of rich, wine colored carpets was also prevalent. I kept close to Caleb, especially since he didn’t discourage it. Suddenly, I heard a loud slap, followed by a woman’s whimper of distress from the left. My eyes followed the sound past the man in front of us and landed on the scene in the adjoining room.
A crowd of finely dressed men, and even some women, was loosely gathered to watch as another man in a white tuxedo held a naked woman over his lap. Her black hair was swept to the side, her pain-stricken face clearly visible. Her body seemed graceful, even in its debased position. A glaring red hand print stood out prominently against her pale white skin. The man stroked her spine and she undulated, lifting her behind higher into the air as if begging the man to strike her again. I looked away when he did and the woman once again whimpered, but did not scream.
Is that the kind of thing Caleb expects from me? I knew the answer. I also knew I would fail at the task miserably. No matter how many times Caleb had spanked me I always screamed and begged for him to stop, even as I surrendered to the orgasms he gave me.
“There is someone here to see you. I am taking you to him now,” said our chaperone.
Caleb’s fingers twitched against my spine and I felt a corresponding shock of pure panic. “Is it the master of the house? I’ve been eager to meet him.”
The chaperone kept walking as he answered, “No, Sir. The master of the house is Felipe Villanueva. We passed him in the den with his slave, Celia. The señor often has guests; he enjoys the attention.”
Another slave. Another woman being held against her will in this same house. It makes me sick. That poor woman, being humiliated in front of all those strangers and knowing none of them will help her.
Caleb stopped and I jumped when his hand pushed me forward. Our eyes met. His blue eyes were cold and they hid something very dark. I did not want to know what he was thinking. I forced myself to keep going.
The music and the sound of the other guests slowly drifted away with each twist and turn we took into the labyrinth. Unfortunately, they were drowned out by the sound of a woman screaming. I couldn’t help but start crying then. I found Caleb’s arm and gripped it with both arms, wrapping my body around it. I looked up to see the chaperone slide two doors apart and the screaming only got louder. The man and Caleb exchanged a short nod and then the man left. Caleb dragged me inside as he walked.
