Chapter Four
The following day Bethany sat on the couch in the cabin’s living room and watched Abe in the kitchen just a few feet away. This whole thing felt strange, like some kind of sick and demented version of playing house. He was fixing her lunch, and while he was occupied she took in her surroundings. This morning he had unchained her from the wall only to take her to the bathroom and chain her back up. There she had been able to take a shower, use the bathroom, and brush her teeth. He had all of the products she used, and even though she found that unnerving and creepy, she was thankful to have these things from her former life—albeit a life that she didn’t even like. But those products were ones she had picked out, lavender and honey scented shampoo and condition, lotion and deodorant. They were not fancy or expensive, and her parents hadn’t gotten them for her. But that had been hours ago, and once more she was in a fresh set of sweats and a t-shirt, clean underwear, and still no bra.
The whole house seemed constructed—internally at least—specifically to keep someone inside. The windows weren’t barred, but there were locks that looked a little more heavy duty than normal. The front door was also not the standard one she would have assumed she’d see in a cabin, and there seemed to be metal plates stationed throughout the house with rings to attach her ankle chain to.
“You like pasta?” Abe asked without turning and looking at her.
She could smell the tomato sauce and garlic, and even the butter on the bread he had just baked. “I’m not very hungry.” That was a lie, and her stomach chose that moment to growl, as if calling her out on it. Abe turned and looked at her over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze was so penetrating that it was as if he had roared out loud he knew she was a fucking liar. He turned back around, and she looked at the fireplace. There wasn’t one going, but she could smell the remnants of a fire that had recently burned there. A crisp, smoky scent filled her nose, and she knew that from this moment on she wouldn’t be able to smell that aroma without associating it with this experience. She heard Abe approach and moved toward the edge of the couch, pressing herself to the arm while she kept her gaze on him. He held two plates, one in each hand, and set them on the coffee table beside them. He sat on the couch beside her, and although there was space separating them, she wanted to put more between them.
“Here, eat something.” He pushed a plate of spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread her way. He stood and went back into the kitchen, and when he returned it was to give her a glass of water. “You hardly ate anything this morning and the more you take in the more you’ll get rid of the drug in your system.”
She felt fine, but she had taken courses on drug counseling, addiction, and dependency in college, and knew that despite the feeling of being physically okay, what he had given her was still in her body. Bethany grabbed the water and drank some before putting the glass back on the table. The food did smell good, but she wanted to know what this was all about.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know as soon as you eat something.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
She watched as he picked up his fork and started eating. He looked intimidating even when he was just sitting there. Once again he was in black clothing: dark t-shirt, cargo pants, and dark boots.
“Eat, Bethany.” His voice went harder.
She looked down at her food for a second before reaching out and picking up her fork. She could use the metal utensil as a weapon, could turn and stab the prongs into his neck and watch as he died. But even thinking about doing that left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn’t a killer, but then again people did drastic things during drastic times.
Abe kept his head forward, but she saw that his gaze was on her hand. “And if you think about stabbing me with that, know that I am not against the idea of tying up your hands and feet and leaving you in the room until you realize that the only person you’re hurting is yourself.” He lifted his gaze so he was staring her right in the eye. “And you would be hurting yourself, Bethany. I am not the enemy here, even if that is too hard to believe right now.” He chewed slowly as he watched her, and then turned back toward his food.
She tugged on her leg, causing the chain to rattle. He didn’t turn her way again, but she saw the way his jaw clenched, which had nothing to do with the fact that he was chewing. But she turned her fork in a circle on the plate and collected the noddle, then brought it to her mouth. Who knew he could cook so well? The bastard. The last thing she wanted was to be grateful for anything because of this man. But she kept her mouth shut, didn’t fight him anymore right now, and ate as much as she could. She pushed the plate away when she was finished, leaned back on the couch, and kept her gaze on him. He had finished a few minutes before her, and she had been very aware that Abe had watched her while she ate. But Bethany wasn’t about to let him unnerve her, at least not any more than he already was. He turned so he could see her, and for several seconds all they did was stare at each other. Could he hear her heart beating so fast? It certainly felt like it would burst through her chest.
“So, ask, Bethany.”
The room grew still and quiet and she hated that he could look so unaffected. Why are you surprised? He wasn’t the one chained up like a rabid dog, and in fact this little situation was probably his disgusting fantasy. “Why did you do it?” That seemed like the safest question to ask first.
“I told you. I saw you, wanted you, and so I took you.”
God, he said it so icily that goose bumps rose on her arms. “You took me because you wanted me?” It was a straightforward answer, but it still didn’t make any sense.
“Yes.”
“But you’re my father’s head of security. He trusted you with his life.”
The sound of him grinding his teeth was overly loud in the room. “He is still alive, isn’t he? He was never harmed while in my protection, never so much as threatened.” His voice went lower, deeper, and she knew this was a conversation that was steering away from what they should be talking about.
“What do you plan on doing with me?” She hated asking that question because she almost didn’t want to know what he was going to say.
“This is what I plan on doing with you.” He leaned back on the couch and didn’t say anything after that for several seconds.
Bethany felt everything in her body grow cold and numb by his statement. “Your plan is to keep me locked away in this cabin?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I have planned.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “That is my plan for the time being.” He held her gaze with his own penetrating one. “Until I can trust you.”
“And then what?” Her pulse beat frantically at the base of her throat, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe.
“And then we’ll start our life together.”
She shook her head, but it was more of an automatic response than her responding to his statement. “I don’t want you. I don’t want any of this.” The last part was a gasp of air and words.
“You do.” He didn’t crack a smile, didn’t show any emotion, for that matter.
Bethany didn’t bother arguing that point, and instead decided on what she wanted to ask him next. “You said you wouldn’t rape me.” She stated it point-blank, and when she looked at him it was to see him nod once again. God, she wished she could read him, but he was as hard and cold as stone.
“I don’t rape women.”
“My family will come looking for me, and they’ll find me.” Bethany swallowed. She felt like she was just repeating herself, but when he would barely give her a straight answer she had nothing else to go on. “You know they have money, and they won’t stop until I’m found.” Sitting up straighter gave her the semblance of being stronger, but she felt weak inside. “Steven has money, and I’m set to wed in a few months.” At her words, a very dark cloud seemed to settle over him, and the room suddenly felt much colder. She knew she should just stop.
“I’m going to tell you who and what I am, and that even if they did find you, I wouldn’t let them have you.”
Everything inside of Bethany was at a standstill. God-awful thoughts of what secrets he held filled her mind.
“I was born to nothing, and grew up with nothing. When I was found in a dirty back alley behind a known whorehouse and asked to channel my energy to something else, I took the opportunity.” There was a sliver of emotion in his voice, but it was rage. “My mother was a whore herself, and my father the man that raped her. To say my mother loathed me and where I came from was an understatement. I was a burden to her, a reminder of the filthy life she lived, and the consequences of the path she had chosen.” He leaned in close, and Bethany felt her eyes grow wider. “When I say I don’t, and would never rape a woman, I mean just that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t urge you to open your eyes and see what is right in front of you.”
Bethany didn’t know what to say, because although she didn’t want to sympathize with the man holding her prisoner, she also was human, and could only imagine the kind of life and anguish a child born into that life would have led.
“I was trained by some men that others would consider very bad, conditioned and sculpted to not let my emotions come into play, and to handle their business.”
“And what business is that?”
He didn’t respond right away, but stared at her with his cold, calculating gaze. “This world will eat you up, Bethany, without even caring.” He reached out and brushed a stray piece of hair away. “I know what it is to feel like you were born to strangers, to live in a world that didn’t want you. I fought every day of my life to survive, saw death, violence, drugs and abuse the likes I will never want you to see.” He was opening up to her, showing her a side the past year had never revealed. This man had a lot of hidden things, been scarred in ways she would never even know. “Will I tell you I’m a good man?”
His eyes were so dark, so frigid and real. She loved and hated this attraction, but still found herself staring at him, looking at every curve and dip of his muscles, the way his short dark hair barely touched his forehead, and his square jaw that seemed so masculine. This man was so lethal in more than just the killing kind of way.
“No, I won’t because I’m not a good man, Bethany. In fact, I am the furthest thing from a good man as they come.”
“But I’m not yours. If you would have talked to me, maybe we could have started a relationship—”
He shook his head, stopping her from finishing her sentence. “Do I look like the traditional type of man that goes and asks women out on dates, smokes cigars and drinks scotch with their fathers?” He lifted a dark eyebrow, almost in a mocking manner. “I am a trained killer, Bethany, and I’ll keep telling you that until you fully realize the man that you are sitting in front of right now has already claimed you as his.”
She brushed a stray tear away, not knowing why she was crying. Her own emotions were wild and crazy. “No. I’ll never be a man’s that has to resort to this—”
And then he was on her before she could even grasp what in the hell he was doing. He used his upper body to press her back to the couch, and used the surprise of his attack to wedge his hips between her thighs. She parted her lips and screamed out, but he slapped a hand over her mouth. Bethany sucked in air through her nose, in and out, faster and faster until stars started to dance in front of her vision. “Calm down.”
She blinked the stars away, knowing she needed to focus because passing out while he was on top of her and clearly aroused was a frightening thought.
“No one can hear you, Bethany, so screaming is pointless.” He let those words sink in before continuing. “I’m going to remove my hand, and you’re not going to scream, okay?” Although he did phrase it like a question, she knew it wasn’t an option.
She nodded, and he slowly removed his hand. “If no one can hear me, than why stop me?” She was still breathing hard, but the need to pass out had subsided.
“Because I don’t like the sound of it.” He leaned in close and she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do. When their lips were only an inch apart she turned her head, but he must have anticipated the move because he gripped her chin and forced her head back so she was looking at him again. He ground his erection into her and she hated that her body started to warm. His dick was pressed right up against her pussy, and even with layers of clothing separating them she swore she could feel how big and long he was.
“Please, don’t do this.”
He ground harder into her, rotating his hips so he rubbed her clit, and hot tears spilled out of her eyes. “You like it, even though you’re crying, Bethany.”
She hated that he was right, wanted to destroy her traitorous body for becoming warm and wet, and so damn pliant under him. He pulled back just enough to look at her chest. With no bra on, her nipples stabbed through the thin material. She was humiliated, horrified, and started crying harder because her pussy grew wetter at the gentle yet persistent thrusting of his hips between her legs.
“I bet if I touched your cunt right now you’d be so damn wet for me.” He slowly lifted his gaze from her breasts to her face again. And then like the bastard he was, he slipped his hand between her thighs and pressed the material right on her moist panties. He leaned in close to her ear, pushed a piece of her hair away, and said, “I knew you’d be wet.” He started rubbing his hand in slow circles over her. “I knew you were waiting for someone to come and open you up, take you away from the world that you don’t belong in.” He applied just a little bit of pressure and she felt tendrils of an orgasm rising violently to the surface. “I know if I kept this up you’d come undone for me right now, wouldn’t you?” He continued to rub her clit until she knew that if he didn’t stop the orgasm that she didn’t want to have—at least she told herself that over and over again—would steal her and somehow make this seem okay. Bethany didn’t want to just roll over and surrender to him.
Snapping out of the haze of pleasure that was slowly starting to move through her, she pushed at his chest at the same time she brought up the unrestrained leg and was able to push him off. He had to be off his guard, or thought she wouldn’t try anything, because she was able to get him off a little too easily. But then she was still in the same situation of not being able to leave because of the damn chain. Everything seemed to happen so fast that she just reacted. Bethany grabbed her fork, and using all of her strength, flung herself at Abe, who was half on the couch and on the floor. But he was strong and grabbed her right before she could plunge the fork into his chest. Everything seemed to happen in the next fast, confusing and frightening seconds. He still held her wrist, but using his other hand gripped the edge of the coffee table and overturned it. The piece of furniture crashed against the fireplace, and a startled cry left her. He had her back on the couch in a matter of seconds. The low, fierce, feral, and purely enraged sound that left him had her thrashing harder.
“I don’t care that you had a fucked-up life.” Bethany pushed at his chest, struggling to keep the fork in her hand, but in the end the utensil clattered to the wooden floor. He had her arms above her head in seconds flat, and then pinned together with one of his hands, and moved in so close she could feel his warm breath on her face. “I don’t fucking want you, Abe. I just want to go.”
“Go back home?” he yelled out, so loudly she winced. “You want to go back to that fucking mansion, where you’re ignored, sold off like a piece of cattle to the man with the most money, and dressed and primped because if you look anything less than perfect you got reprimanded like a stray fucking dog?” The anger on his face was so scary that she shrunk back into the couch. His nostrils flared, and his chest rose and fell, and then just as quickly as he had been on her, he was off and walking toward the front door.
Bethany pushed herself up just enough that she could see him over the back of the couch. His body was stiff, and he held the doorknob without turning it. It seemed like minutes passed by before he turned the knob and took a step forward. The wind blew by with enough force that she felt it all the way where she was.
“I’ll be back.” He looked over his shoulder, and after staring at her for a second, turned back around and walked out. He didn’t slam the door behind him, and as she listened to him descend down the porch steps, she wondered how long he would be gone. Panic started to set in that maybe he was so angry he was going to leave her here, but she couldn’t freak out right now. He had left her alone, and she needed to try and find a way out. Would she run back home and stay in that situation, and marry Steven like nothing was wrong? No, this experience—even after only one day—showed her that she couldn’t take life for granted.