Day three…I wanted to die.

The cravings were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. If it were up to me, I would’ve given in by now. I wanted to shed my skin and these restraints and run until I found what I needed. It felt as if there were millions of insects roaming over every part of my body. I needed to scratch and claw at my skin until I got relief, yet my captors kept me bound.

“Formication…that’s all this is.” I mumbled quietly to myself, feeling each word as it rolled around in my mouth.

Funny how, in the midst of withdrawals, I was able to retain access to the useless information in my head. Useless, because it didn’t change a thing about the predicament I found myself in. Here I was, chained to a table like a rabid animal—but at least I knew the medical term for the sensation of insects crawling on my skin.

I think I’d called poor Doc every name in the book. The friggin’ idiot still refused to release me though. Sure, he’d loosen the bindings long enough to help me to the bathroom, but there always seemed to be someone else nearby, so all plans of escape were just out of reach.

I was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep.

When I did manage to doze off, my dreams were nothing short of nightmares. Most of them involved me falling into large piles of snow where I’d snort line after line until everything else faded away.

Then I’d wake up, expecting to feel relaxed, only to remember that it was a dream and I was still strapped down to a damn table. To say I was irritated would’ve been the understatement of the century.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

“You need to try and eat something. You’re starting to ramble to yourself like a crazy person.” Doc held up a bowl of what might’ve been oatmeal and my stomach turned.

The first twenty-four hours I’d been starving and had eaten everything they put in front of me. It had been so long since I’d ingested real food, so my body had rejected it almost instantly.

I’d ignored the pangs of hunger after that; refusing anything that Doc or Rooster brought me. Everyone else seemed to stay away—I guess my screaming to be let go got to them.

I shook my head as he held the spoon toward my face. That was the problem with being strapped down in here. It was obvious that this room was used as a makeshift clinic for the bikers when needed, so everything smelled medicinal.

Sterile.

Not at all what you’d want to smell while trying to eat.

There were no windows, so I was treated to the sight of Doc’s face and bare walls day in and day out. A girl needed sunshine. I’d tried and failed to convince Doc that he should move my bed outside.

“Charm wouldn’t like it.”

That seemed to be the end to every argument. Charm this. Charm that.

And where was the man himself?

Damn if I had a clue—it wasn’t like he’d given me his itinerary before leaving me in here. Hell, he’d been ready to send me back into the forest to die.

Jerk.

Doc sighed and placed the bowl on a small table before lifting my shirt to change the bandages around my wound again. Trace amounts of blood had seeped onto the sterile white pad, but it was so much better than what it was when they brought me here. He’d done the best he could, stitching me back up, but I was going to have a gnarly scar. He was a biker, not a plastic surgeon—he was also the man who saved my life, so I couldn’t exactly complain.

And I didn’t—mostly. I kept my mouth shut when they brought me gently used clothing that had obviously belonged to a female. I’d had a lot of questions, but chose to keep them to myself. I didn’t need Charm changing his mind about letting me stay, especially since I didn’t know if Clint was still combing the woods looking for me.

I had to wait it out. Maybe I’d win the trust of these bikers and then make a break for it—Clint would eventually lose interest in hunting me and I’d be free.

For the first time in four years, I’d be on my own.

The thought was equally exhilarating and terrifying.

Doc finished placing the new bandages before resuming his quest to get me to eat. I shook my head and he sighed. “You need to eat. Don’t make me resort to Plan B.”

I laughed weakly. “What are you gonna do—force it down my throat?”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “Alright, Princess. You wanna do things the hard way? I’ll be right back.”

I wasn’t worried—perhaps I should’ve been, but from what I’d seen over the last few days, these bikers were nothing like their TV counterparts.

They didn’t even have club whores—I thought that was a prerequisite for all motorcycle gangs.

My nose itched and I stared angrily at the restraints around my arms.

Great.

It began running and I knew that it was probably another nosebleed. I’d had them daily for as long as I’d been using.

The cravings hit me hard, threatening the resolve I’d built up over the last three days. I forced my eyes closed and concentrated on my breathing.

When I was stressed out as a kid, I could always count on my mom to talk me off the ledge. She’d sit with me in the floor, my hands clasped tightly in hers, urging me to “just get through the next breath.”

It wasn’t always a quick fix, but eventually my breathing would even out and the weight on my chest would disappear.

A lone tear slipped down my cheek.

God, I’d messed up everything.

“Little Girl.”

The sound of his voice startled me awake. I couldn’t even remember falling asleep.

My eyes flew open and there he was, the man who thought I resembled a mangy dog in need of putting down.

“It’s Neve.” I forced out through gritted teeth.

“Don’t care. Why are you refusing to eat?” His hand brushed across the scruff on his face just as he’d done a few days ago—as if it was a nervous tic.

I shook my head and his eyebrows raised in surprise. He obviously wasn’t used to someone openly refusing him. “I’m not hungry.”

The chair creaked as he shifted his weight, his eyes never leaving mine. His tongue clicked against his teeth. “Here’s what’s gonna happen—you’re gonna eat something. It might come as a shock to you, but Doc ain’t in the habit of babysitting little bitches with attitudes the size of Texas.”

I expected him to say more, but he shifted back in his seat and cracked his neck, obviously turning the conversation over to me. My eyes burned with unshed tears at being referred to as a bitch. “I’m. Not. Hungry.”

His jaw tightened as I enunciated each word and I knew that I’d effectively pushed his buttons. “Ain’t nothing I’d love more than to throw your sorry ass back out into the woods, but Doc vouched for you. So, do the man a solid and eat some goddamn food.”

Charm stood up and walked out, slamming the door behind him, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. That relief was short-lived when he burst through the door a few minutes later.

He began pacing the room, his fingers tirelessly stroking at his chin. “Okay, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to make good on that little promise of yours, starting today.”

My eyes widened in shock. I’d just been stabbed a few days ago and he wanted me cooking and cleaning? I pointed to my side. “But I’m still recovering—”

“You’re going through withdrawals. The way I see it, you’re well enough to deny food, so you’re well enough to cook and clean. You can start by getting dinner for tonight. If that doesn’t work for you, then I suggest you get the hell out before sundown. The forest is hard enough to navigate during the day. At night, it’ll be damn near impossible.”

He turned to leave again and it took every ounce of strength to swallow my pride. Keeping my eyes focused near the floor, I admitted my fears. “I’m just scared I’ll throw it all up again—the food, I mean.” Under my breath, I added, “And I’m as good as dead out there.”

Charm kept his back to me, but I watched the way his shoulders seemed to tighten. Filled with worry that he may have overheard the end of my sentence, I began stumbling over my words. He left the room mid-sentence, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He was going to find Doc and tell him to gas up the truck so they could take me back; I just knew it. I was busy formulating a plan that didn’t involve me being mauled to death by bears when the door opened and Charm reappeared, carrying a mug of steaming liquid.

He set it down on one of the counters before coming over and untying my bindings. “I think we can let you out of these for the time being, yeah?”

I nodded and slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position, but my muscles protested the movement, having gotten quite comfortable with being strapped down.

We eyed each other warily as he sat back down in the chair and took the mug in his hands. He dipped a small spoon into the liquid and blew gently on it before offering it to me. “Broth—it’ll be easier for your stomach to manage.”

I opened my mouth and took a sip. My stomach rumbled and growled in appreciation and his mouth twisted up, as though he was trying not to gloat.

“Thank you.” We appeared to have called a truce for the time being. Charm patiently fed me broth by the spoonful as though I were a small child, and instead of being bothered by it, I was filled with something unfamiliar.

Comfort.

I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d experienced that feeling.

The mug was soon empty, yet here we were. Sitting and studying each other.

Charm looked to be a million miles away and I tried to sound lighthearted as I broke the silence. “Tell me, do you always make a habit of feeding the prisoners? I kind of thought a job like that would be beneath a club ‘Prez’.”

His face darkened. “Just when I think that maybe you ain’t fit to be up and moving around, that smart mouth of yours proves me wrong.”

I shouldn’t have said anything. He was much better when he was silent. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll let Doc know that you’re ready to be put to work. Stick with the broth for a couple days, your stomach will be workin’ just fine again.” He rolled the stool backward before jumping to his feet and I fought against my baser instincts to keep my eyes on his face and not linger on the way his denim jeans hugged his thighs.

Obviously, my libido was still in working order. I pushed those thoughts aside. The man saw me as no better than an animal, after all. “Charm, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you—It just struck me as odd, you helping me like you knew exactly what you were doing.” A strange expression crossed his face, but it was gone before I could decipher it.

“Like I said, I’ll get Doc in here. If you can’t fulfill your end of the deal, you’re out. Got it?”

I nodded and he left again, slamming the door shut behind him. It appeared our thirty-minute ceasefire had ended.