Finally satisfied with a full stomach from the large breakfast Julian had fed me, I decided to take my time in the shower, letting the hot water melt my tense muscles.

I scrubbed my body with leisure until a thick, frothy layer of suds slowly began to cover me, and lathered my hair with the floral shampoo, turning my usual brown locks into a cap of white bubbles.

I slowly rinsed myself, letting all my tension flow down the drain with the rest of the grimy residue. Beside the fact that I had been kidnapped and forced into a bizarre slavery with my kidnapper, a sprig of hope was blossoming. If I could hold out long enough, maybe Kiera could still manage to find me after all.

Reaching out from behind the curtain, I tried to feel for a towel to cover myself, but found myself grasping at empty air. I peeked out to see where they could be to find an empty towel rack gaping back at me.

As I glanced around, I found that all the towels were gone.

I stepped out of the shower to look under the sink, but still nothing.

I had resolved to just tying the dingy sheet back on only to find, to my horror, that it too was missing.

My heart plummeted to my stomach.

He took them. Again.

Panic began to flood me. Here I was, completely nude, dripping wet with nothing to dry myself with, and what was worse, nothing to cover myself with. Nothing to conserve my last ounce of dignity.

I tiptoed over to the doorway to see what else I could use. Maybe I could scrounge together another sheet to fashion it around myself like I had before.

Peering around the wall, my stomach flipped. The only thing on the bed was a sheer, midnight-blue piece of baby doll lingerie. It lay out on display, neatly spread out to show its every risqué detail. And beside it, a matching lace thong.

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Abby.” Julian’s voice sang out from the usual corner of the room. I ducked back behind the wall as my heart hammered against my ribs.

My cheeks burned when I thought of him in the bathroom with me while I took my time in the shower. Was he watching me?

“I’m not coming out.” I stated as boldly as I could manage. “I want my clothes. My real clothes!”

He chuckled. “Unfortunately, you have already kneeled to me. I choose your clothes now.”

My blood boiled as he spoke.

“Abigale, come out here, dear.”

Banging my head on the wall, I wished I had never done that. I wished I could have kept my integrity and held out just a little longer. But it hadn’t done me any good then, and it wouldn’t do me any good now.

With a deep breath, I hesitantly stepped out from behind the wall and into the open, my arm clamped across my breasts and a hand to my bare mound. I took a few steps, but I couldn’t get myself to move beyond the edge of the bed. Perhaps I thought it could block me from him somehow. But unless the bed stood three feet taller, it was a pointless act.

My face flushed red with embarrassment, but there I stood, desperately clinging to my own flesh to try and conceal myself from him.

His eyes raked over me with dark desire, sending rippling shivers down my spine.

“So, you can either wear what I pick out for you or nothing at all.” A smug smile slowly stretched across his lips. I glanced back at the dainty lingerie, the sheer material of the bralette standing out among everything else. They were sexy, something I had only ever fantasized about wearing myself, but now that it was being forced onto me by a stranger, my captor, the idea repulsed me.

“The bra won’t cover anything, though,” I mumbled in feeble protest. “It’s all see-through.”

Julian’s smile widened. “You know, the longer you resist, the more I’m liking the idea of nothing at all. Maybe I will just take everything away after all and make you remain in the nude indefinitely. It would certainly benefit me more that way.”

“Fine!” I croaked. I quickly grabbed the dress and thong, clutching the dainty material to my bare body, and slipped back into the bathroom.

I held up the risqué garment to eye-level and immediately saw my reflection in the mirror on the other side.

How did Julian expect me to wear this all the time? It left nothing to the imagination. Though I would have material draped on my body, everything would remain exposed to his viewing pleasure. And if he kept stealing my covers like he did, I would freeze at night.

It was like he enjoyed humiliating me, watching me squirm in discomfort at his requests.

Maybe I needed to start forcing myself to be a little more obedient, just the slightest. Maybe then I could have my clothes. Maybe even get something to pass my time and figure a way out of this as I sat trapped in his dungeon.

I sighed with defeat and shimmied into the sheer number. The delicate fabric clung to my slender frame, highlighting my curves and perky breasts, making my figure appear more feminine than I had ever seen it before.

The matching lace thong fit my hips snugly, hugging my bottom perfectly. The cheeky cut of the lace really accentuated my ample figure.

For the first time ever, I almost felt confident. I almost felt sexy. And all it took was this sheer negligée my kidnapper had picked out for me.

With a deep breath, I stepped back into the bedroom with Julian. As strange as it was, I almost felt nervous about how he would react. I found myself concerned that he wouldn’t approve. What if he didn’t like it? What if he hated it and thought it looked dreadful? Or worse, what if he thought I looked dreadful in it? I nervously swept my damp hair to one side.

My gaze found the floor as my hands automatically covered my exposed areas. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, to possibly see the disappointment I was always terrified of finding on the opposite sex.

“Lower your hands,” he requested, his voice deep and as soft as satin.

Hesitation constantly plagued me, but I followed orders and slowly lowered my arms to my sides, letting myself be exposed to him in full.

Before I could even blink, he was standing in front of me, towering over my short stature. His strong hands gently caressed my arms with the back of his fingers.

“Stunning,” he whispered with adoration. His fingers slowly glided down the length of my arms until his hands found mine, bringing each one up to his full lips in gentle, tender kisses.

“Come.” He led me over to his usual seat and sat in the wooden chair, pointing to the spot directly in front of him. “Turn around and kneel.”

I slowly did as he requested and kneeled directly in front of him.

Julian grasped my thick locks, tenderly brushing them off my shoulders and letting them fall down the length of my back. His hand gently petted my hair.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as he grabbed a silver brush from the table. Intricate designs were engraved onto the metal handle with a deep blue gem inlaid at its base.

He offered me a gentle smile that made my stomach flutter and motioned for me to turn my head.

I did so, and he began slowly running the spines of the brush through my tangled locks, taking tender care not to tug or pull my hair from its roots. It was an oddly caring act from someone who’d killed and kidnapped people and forced them to do as he wished. There was a gentle side to him, something he didn’t show often. But I knew he would only expose as much as he felt like exposing. Part of me was grateful he felt he could show this side to me, of all people.

I watched him in the large vanity mirror that sat against the wall across from me, taking each section and combing from tip to root as not to cause me pain. He was so concentrated, yet seemingly relaxed. Maybe this was a form of therapy for him, taking care of another soul.

A strange feeling came over me as I studied him. As cynical as it was, I found myself attracted to him. He was incredibly handsome, with such defined features, and had this incredibly sweet side to him that he seemed to usually force away. He was methodical, but gentle. And so powerful. The more I was around him, the more I found him matching exactly what I would have chosen in a man, had I had a chance to.

I found myself wondering how I could even see his reflection. If he was this dark, mythical creature of fairy tales, shouldn’t his reflection be nonexistent? He drank blood, he was impeccably fast, his eyes seemed to change periodically—he could even read minds. If his reflection showed in mirrors, did that mean he couldn’t die by a wooden stake? Would silver even affect him? Would garlic really repel him?

“The stake would hurt, but not be fatal. The handle of the brush is silver, and I like garlic. Like any other human food, it doesn’t do anything for me, but I like the taste.”

Every word. He’d caught every single question and consideration as if I had spoken them aloud. He would always know what I was thinking, what I wanted, even how I was feeling, and that was utterly distressing and humiliating. I would never have privacy again. And yet, here I was, left wondering about him. There was no way for me to know what he was ever thinking, how he was feeling, or what his intentions with me were. Nothing.

Under most circumstances, my mind was my greatest asset, but with him, I could never out think him because he’d always know what I was thinking.

Frustrated and humiliated, I couldn’t hold in my emotions any longer. It was all too much—being controlled, manipulated, and ultimately eavesdropped on at all times. The tension finally snapped inside of me.

Hot tears welled in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. Like my life now, I had lost all control of myself.

I couldn't handle this. I wasn't strong enough. In all my training, there was nothing that could have prepared me for someone as powerful as him.

The need to run weighed on me more than it ever had before. I needed out. But of course, I was locked in this room with nowhere to go, stuck with the man who had put me here in the first place.

I did the only thing I could think of and ran to the bed in an attempt to hide from the world like a child would hide from any monster, under the covers. But those, along with my sanity, had been stripped away from me. I made do with the bare pillows, smothering my head as tightly as I could to hide away from him. My chest heaved in heavy sobs, tears staining the white casing of the pillows.

How could I ever hope to fight someone that held that kind of power?