An Assassin’s Oath by Shayla Hart
Ezra
You know that unsettling feeling you get when you’re unsure if you’re awake or still asleep. My eyes feel so heavy that they’re refusing to open, but my mind is conscious, and I can hear music coming from somewhere, causing my head to thump unpleasantly.
I roll over and groan at the ache between my legs. I finally manage to peel my eyes open; though blurry at first, they eventually focus. I look around the room in sheer panic. There wasn’t much to it, bare white walls, a chest of dark gray drawers to the left of the room by the door, and a huge window overlooking a lake. This wasn’t my bedroom.
Where the hell am I? I shift to sit up and groan at the sudden pain in my head. “Shit.” I rub my temples. I lift the covers and sigh in relief. I was still in my red dress from the night before. That was a good sign. I look beside the bed and see two tablets and a glass of water on the bedside table with a note that read. “For the headache.”
I reach over and pick up the tablets. Advil. God yes. I pop them into my mouth and wash them down with the glass of water. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth was until that first drop hit my tongue. I slid off the bed and walk over to the window and look outside. It was bright— too bright, making me wince, lifting my arm to shield my eyes from the sunlight and look around. A farm? Where on earth am I? What is that goddamn music. I decided it was best to investigate, so I walk over to the door and pull it open.
I poke my head out of the room and look around before stepping out completely. “Hello?” Nothing. I continue to walk down the hallway and open each door.
The one next to the bedroom I was in was a bathroom, an oversized walk-in shower, toilet, and a sink with a mirror. The next door was another bedroom. This one seems to be the master bedroom with another ensuite and a walk-in closet.
The bed was neatly made in the center of the room. I follow the staircase down and find myself in a living room. I look around, something vaguely familiar about this room. I tiptoe toward the kitchen, and I can hear the music getting a little louder with every step I took, and when I round the corner, I stop in my tracks and peer out the double glass doors to the back of the house.
A beautiful lake, but that’s not what made me stop short in my tracks. It was the shirtless man before me punching and kicking a boxing bag, utterly oblivious to anything and everything around him. His perfectly sculpted body was glimmering with sweat.
A sexy tribal sleeve tattoo covered his right arm. “Holy hell…” I breathe as I move closer to the window to watch him as he maneuvers around the bag doing combos of punches and kicks. He’s a professional fighter—you could tell from his stance and positioning.
Wait. I remember him. “Damien,” I recall meeting him at the club I was at with the girls. I remember leaving with him and coming here and then—that’s it, that’s all I remember, after that it’s completely blank.
Oh, God, did we have sex? Is that why I’m sore? But then I woke up fully dressed? Why would he have sex with me and then dress me again?
Unless he didn’t even take my dress off before he…oh shit. It makes no sense at all. Amid my mini panic, I hadn’t noticed that he stopped punching the bag and was now watching me, a surly look on his very handsome face, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Damien turns the music down as I walk toward the open door and step outside, and he picks up his bottle of water, gulping it down, turning his back to me to look over at the lake. “Hi.” I greet, leaning against the wall and wrapping my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very exposed in my dress the night before.
“Morning.” He sets his bottle on the table and turns to face me finally. I shrink back under his gaze. Jesus, his stare was intense. “There’s breakfast on the table and fresh coffee in the pot.”
I look back, and sure enough, there is a plate on the island, “Um, thank you.” I bite my lip and twirl the ring I had on my middle finger nervously. “Did we…um…”
His brows draw together, and he takes a couple of steps toward me. “Did we what Ezra?”
At least he remembers my name. That’s something, I suppose. I inhale deeply and look everywhere, but at him, I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Did we have…sex? I can’t remember much of last night. I must have had quite a bit to drink.”
Damien picks up a towel and dries off the sweat on his face and tosses it aside again. “If we had sex, I assure you, you wouldn’t be capable of walking straight, Princess,” Damien tells me as he walks past me and into the kitchen. “Your virtue is still intact. Don’t sweat it.” I frown and follow him inside. Wait, he knows I’m a virgin?
“Why am I sore…if we didn’t,” I ask and watch as he opens a cupboard and pulls out two mugs, and proceeds to fill them with coffee.
“You’re sore because I fucked you hard with my fingers, and you had an orgasm.” I blink and gape at him, stunned while he holds out a mug of coffee to me, which I graciously take. Caffeine was undeniably needed. “Sit down and eat your breakfast.” Damien orders as he moves around the kitchen. I felt dizzy watching him, which didn’t aid the growing pain in my head.
“Can you just stop moving around for a moment, please? I’m a little confused. Why am I here if we didn’t have sex? Did I drink too much and pass out on you or something?” I question, and Damien leans back against the counter and regards me carefully for a long moment before he speaks.
“No. You didn’t pass out on me. We just didn’t have sex. That’s it.”
I shrink back and nod. “Okay. Well, thank you for your hospitality. I’ll get my things and be on my way.” I set my mug of coffee down, suddenly not having the stomach for it anymore. “Would you mind calling me a cab?” I say and attempt to walk out of the kitchen. Damien grabs my forearm and stops me. I lift my eyes to his questioningly, and he holds my gaze. That steely stare sent shivers through me.
“You’re not going anywhere.” He declares, and I blink in response.
“Oh, really? And why is that?” I retort, trying to tug my arm free from his grasp, but he tightens his hold, and I hiss at the sudden jolt of pain. “Ow, let go of my arm. What are you doing?” I struggle against him, and he yanks me closer to him and glares at me menacingly. I feel a surge of fear rise in my gut, and my heart begins to race at an unnatural pace. “I’d like to go home now,” I whisper, and the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly.
Those silver eyes look over my face and settle on my eyes again before he speaks in a low tone. “You’ll be here a while; I suggest you get comfortable, Princess,” Damien replies as he tugs me along with him toward the stairs.
“Wait…what?” I wince as his hold on my arm tightens while he drags me along with him. I struggle against him, trying to break free. “Stop pulling me. You’re hurting my arm! What are you going to do with me? Hey, I’m talking to you!”
I dig my heels into the ground before getting to the stairs, and Damien stops and looks back at me. “I’ll do far worse than hurt you, Ezra, so I suggest you be a good little girl and behave yourself.” I blanch at his words; he was dead serious. In his words and the dangerous glint in his eyes, there was something that told me he would make good on his threat if I didn’t comply. “Move.”
“And if I don’t?” I say in a defying manner. “Are you going to kill me?”
“If I have to.” I shriek when he hoists me over his shoulder and carries me upstairs like I weighed nothing at all.
“Put me down, you brute!” I squirm, and he squeezes my thighs with his big hands. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! Do you have any idea who I am! Put me down this instant!” I cry as he sets me down and shoves me back into the bedroom I woke up in earlier. I stumble but catch myself before I fall and glare at him.
“Look, if it’s for money, I have money. I’ll give you whatever you want, please, Damien just let me go.” I plead, rubbing my upper arm where he had gripped me, a dull ache that was surely going to bruise later. Damien sighs, ignoring me, and walks to the other door on the other side of the room.
“That’s not an option. You don’t have anything I want, Ezra.” He responds bitingly, and I frown. “You have your own private bathroom through here; there are fresh towels in the closet and clean clothes in that drawer.” He points to the gray set of drawers in the corner of the room.
“Towels? I’m not interested in a tour of your goddamn house. Why am I here, Damien? If it’s not for the money, why are you holding me captive? Oh God, are you one of those creepy obsessive admirers?”
Damien rolls his eyes and even chuckles, clearly amused. “Do I look like a fucking admirer Ezra? Let’s not forget that you came with me of your own free will. I didn’t force you. And it was you who was gagging to be fucked. If I were an admirer, I would have taken what you were so clearly ready to offer me on a plate last night.”
I peer up at him and cross my arms over my chest, and cringe, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “You’re keeping me here against my will now, though, aren’t you? Let me go now, or I swear I will make life hell for you till I escape, and I will.”
“Listen to me very carefully because I will not repeat myself,” Damien says, strolling toward me slowly, his eyes fixed on me like a hungry lion watching its prey.
Every step he took toward me, I retreated. “You have two options here. You can either sit and behave yourself, and the next few days can pass pleasantly, or you can continue acting like a brat, and I will be forced to lock you away in this room and restrain you. Don’t even bother trying to escape because there’s no one around for at least thirty miles, and by the time you get far enough even to find someone to help you, I will find you and make no mistake, Ezra—I will kill you.” I gulp and press myself against the wall.
“Do you understand me?” I nod, and it seems he was satisfied with my response. “Good. Now get cleaned up and come downstairs.” And with that, he walks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
I release the breath I hadn’t even noticed I was holding. My knees were shaking uncontrollably. I slid to the floor, and with a whimper, I let the tears I had been holding back flow free. I was going to be killed; once he gets what he wants, whatever that may be, he’s going to kill me.
* * *
A short while later,the tears finally ebbed away. I push myself back up to my feet and walk over to the bathroom. There was a walk-in shower in this one, too, smaller than the master bathroom but spacious enough to fit two. I look at the mirror above the sink and stare at my reflection.
Mascara and eyeliner from the night before smudged around my eyes, lips still tinted red from my lipstick, and tear stains down my cheeks. My usual blue eyes, bloodshot, and bruises formed on my right arm from being gripped so tight. I lift my left hand and brush my fingers over them lightly. I was a mess, like a crack whore on a night without a fix. It’s no wonder he told me to clean up.
After a somewhat prolonged shower, I step out and look around for a towel. Where did he say they were? I look through the closets and find some on the top shelf. I wrap one around myself and walk out of the bathroom.
The room’s cold air makes me shiver, causing goosebumps to break out all over me as I move over to the chest of drawers. I slide the top one open and find a selection of underwear.
Bras and panties. I pick a black lace bra, check the size, and frown. It’s my size. I rummage through all the drawers and pull out various items, jeans, sweaters, blouses, all in my size. “How did he—” I jump, startled when the door suddenly swings open, and Damien walks in, fully dressed in a pair of black jeans and a tight black t-shirt. I squeak and take a couple of steps back, holding the towel tighter against my body. “What are you doing? Get out!”
Damien’s eyes narrow as he takes slow and steady steps toward me. “It’s my house. I can come and go as I see fit.”
“Doesn't mean you can just barge in—without knocking, might I add—whenever you want. There's such a thing as privacy, you imprudent brute, and even though you're keeping me imprisoned, you can respect that at the very least."
"Is that right?" Damien drawls, watching me with those molten silver eyes as he zeros in on me.
"Yes, that's right." I meet his gaze and keep my eyes there in a manner that I'm hoping tells him I'm not some delicate little damsel that he can push around. I'm Ezra Quintero, damn it! Even though everything about this man, his eyes, his lack of emotion, his entire demeanor scares me to my very core, I'll be damned if I show him that. "Though, I highly doubt you possess a damn conscience or are even capable of showing any form of emotion other than brutality."
His smile—neither kind nor genuine, but one that was ice cold and ruthless, makes me quake inwardly. I cry out when he grasps my upper arms and yanks me against him, bringing us so close our noses almost touch. "And what? You think you've got me sussed now, have you?" I wince as his fingers clamp down harder on my skin. "You think this is brutal? Considering the long list of things I could do to you, this is kind, believe me."
"Why are you keeping me here?" I ask, "What do you want from me?"
"This isn't about you. Not really." He tells me evenly, and I frown. "It's about your father." I sigh when he finally relaxes his hold on me a little, though he doesn't let go completely. My father? Of course.
"So, you abduct me to get a big payout from my father, is that it?" Damien looks over my face and smirks.
"Again, I didn't abduct you. I was supposed to, but you were so eager to sleep with me that you came willingly. Let's not forget that little detail, shall we?" He licks his lips and narrows his eyes as though he recalled something. "And I'm not the one getting the payout. I'm just the middleman who is being paid to babysit you."
The middleman? What the hell did that mean? Who was he working for? Had my father's adversaries hired him to kidnap me and extort money from him? "Who hired you? Who do you work for?"
Damien chuckles, "That's classified, sweetheart."
I exhale slowly, "Save me the secret agent bullshit, all right. Give it to me straight. Who are you?"
Damien’s jaw clenches, "Don't worry your pretty little head about who I am. It isn't important." I pull my head back and look up at him with a scowl.
"I have a right to know why I'm being held captive!'' I say, annoyed, and he merely shrugs, his eyes never leaving mine. "Are you a killer?" He shrugs again, and my mouth suddenly goes desert dry. I don't know if it was my nerves or what, but I laugh. "I'm sorry, but this is ridiculous. This has got to be a joke or a prank. Who put you up to this? Was it, Jordin?" Damien looks at me, his face stoic. "You're an actor or something, right?"
"An actor?" He reiterates, and before I could utter and another word, his face was in mine, so close our noses almost touch. I feel the cold steel of his eyes boring into my own. "Are you going to stop talking now, or are you going to force me into gagging that pretty little mouth of yours?"
I curl my fingers tightly around the towel to keep it secured around me as his strong hands grasp my upper arms, and he squeezes them hard. "Get your hands off of me, you son of a—" I fight in his hold, and his eyes narrow dangerously.
"Careful..." Damien hisses, cutting me off mid-sentence, "I have zero tolerance for disobedience, Ezra. I have no intention of hurting you, but if you provoke me, I will end you without an ounce of remorse." Damien utters gravely, brushing his nose over mine. I turn my face away from him, and he chuckles darkly before pulling away and lets me go.
When he finally releases his hold on my arm and walks out of the bedroom, I gasp, watching as he closes the door behind him.
* * *
An hour later,I see Damiens car pull out of the driveway. I rush over to the window and watch his car disappear out of sight. If ever I had a chance to run, this was it. I have to get the hell out of this place. I yank the door open and rush downstairs, making a beeline for the front door. I pull the door and whimper when I find it's locked. I look around the house, trying every window and exit, and they're all locked. "No! Goddamn it!" I pound my fist against the glass door.
As I wasn't sure where or how long he was gone, I decided to snoop around, looking for something that would tell me anything about the man holding me captive. I searched all over for any clues and came up empty. I rush upstairs to his bedroom and look through his drawers, wardrobe, and closets and found nothing. I lift his pillow and find a little remote under it. "What the hell is this for?"
I push the little button that showed a sign to open something and jump startled when the bed suddenly started moving. The mattress lifts slowly, and I stare in horror at the sight before me.
"Oh my God,"