Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed
Iwake up with a stiff back from sleeping on this filthy mattress. Somehow, during the night I managed to find a spot where the springs didn’t dig into my skin, and I actually got a little sleep.
I shake my wrist hoping to get some life back into the arm that’s cuffed to the metal bed frame.
Daylight shines brightly through the window, doing its best to lighten the bleak room I’m in, and I quickly scowl when the door opens and the man who took me steps through it.
I hate him.
Not just because the asshole kidnapped me, I’d still dislike him if he hadn’t. He has a stinking attitude and carries a real chip on those big strong shoulders of his. But most of all I hate him for being so fuckin’ hot.
“Mornin’.” He nods, taking the keys to my cuffs from his pocket and reaching over my body to release me.
He pulls me up off the bed, holding my body against his, and I attempt to make myself as tall as possible.
He still towers over me, those dark eyes looking down his nose at me, and his mouth straight as I stare up through my lashes.
We’re so close that I feel his chest rising when he breathes, I have to stop my newly freed hands from reaching up and checking if the man has a heartbeat.
Brax wastes no more time, his rough hand squeezing tighter around my wrist before he drags me down the stairs, into the kitchen, and forces me to sit at the table.
“So, what are your plans today?” I keep up my friendly pretense. I’m not gonna let the son of a bitch break me. I’ll stick to my game plan, play innocent and compliant, then strike like a panther when he least expects it.
Brax didn’t even know my name, so I doubt he knows that I ran track all the way through high school, and college. If I find a chance to get free, I’m sure I can outrun him.
He chooses to ignore my question, so I turn my attention to the stray mutt that seems to have attached itself to him. Watching Brax take care of the dog surprises me. He seems like the kind of guy who holds no consideration for anyone other than himself.
“I wonder if he has a home?” I make another attempt at starting a conversation with him.
“Nowhere around here for miles.” Brax uses his answer to remind me that wherever we are, we’re cut off. But I don’t give him the response he’ll want. Instead, I raise my arms and stretch out my back, it’s still throbbing from that damn mattress.
“Forgot spread,” Brax says unapologetically as he drops a plate of dry toast on the table in front of me.
“You really expect me to eat that?” I look up from the plate horrified, and he turns down his lip and shrugs back. Remaining silent, he takes the plate and marches over to the trash, then tips the plate and lets the toast slide off before stepping back and slamming the plate hard onto the kitchen side.
He forces me onto my feet and drags me down the corridor into a room I haven’t seen yet.
I figure the large open space must have been used as a living room before this place was emptied out. There's an old-style fireplace, and off-white paint flakes from the walls.
Brax pulls me toward the radiator, and I inhale sharply when his body presses into mine. I can’t help but focus on his lips when a familiar cool metal snaps over my wrists, and I realize he’s cuffed me to the pipe work.
He doesn’t bother to look at me again, just turns his back and starts to leave.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” I yell at him. But he doesn’t acknowledge me, just trudges out the room without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
I search the room for an escape route but I soon realize it’s a hopeless cause. I have to face the reality that I’m stuck here until he decides what to do with me next.
My mind is exhausted from trying to come up with reasons why this man has taken me. And there’s no denying how scary he is, all I have to be thankful for is that he hasn’t hurt me yet.
Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I get the impression he doesn’t want to.
Still, I can’t rely on a hunch. Whoever this guy is, he’s dangerous, and I have to be on my guard.
Julian will be looking for me, he will have gone to the police by now. Perhaps someone saw us leaving the house and got the license plate of the truck. I have hope, and as long as I’ve got that I can be strong.
I don’t know what Brax spends the rest of the day doing, but he only shows his face a few times to bring me water. If I wasn’t so thirsty, I’d have thrown it at his face.
Later in the afternoon, he frees me so I can use the bathroom, the only contact between us being his rough hands and that icy cold stare, that somehow makes my body blister with heat.
It’s getting late now. I can see through the window that the sky is losing its light, and my ass cheeks are numb from sitting on the hardwood floor for so long.
Brax comes back to the room carrying a half-drunk bottle of Jack, with his furry friend at his heel. I watch on hungrily as he places another bowl of cooked beef on the floor in front of the dog, then leans his back against the wall, glaring at me cruelly as I watch the dog devour his food.
I'm a little shocked when he slides down onto his ass, hanging his arms over his knees and making no attempt to hide the fact he’s staring at me.
He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long swig back, while his eyes remain fixed on mine, reeling with hate.
“You treat that stray dog better than you treat me,” I point out, feeling another pang of hunger attack my stomach. If I’d have known that dry piece of toast was all I’d be offered today, I probably would have accepted it.
“I trust the dog,” he rasps back at me, taking something red and shiny out of his pocket. He tosses it in the air and then catches it again and when I realize it’s an apple. I rub my lips together to dampen them, suddenly they feel so dry.
“You hungry?” Brax tips his head to the side teasingly, and when I nod back at him, he hauls himself up off the floor and steps a little closer to me. My neck automatically stretches to look up at his tall, intimidating body, and he slowly crouches down in front of me so his eyes are level with mine. I can’t help staring at his plump lips again, bizarrely I crave them more than I do the apple in his hand.
The sound of scraping metal diverts my eyes and when I look between us, I see him pull a knife from his black boot.
My breath catches in my throat, and my skin shivers as he presses the blade flat against my skin. The cold steel slides steadily from my ankle up to my knee.
My pussy pulses as he nears it, and my eyes follow his as he stands back up in front of me again.
Using the blade, he peels the skin from the apple, managing skillfully to keep it in one piece. The red skin curls into a circle when it drops to the floor between his feet, and his eyes drop from mine to the peel.
“You expect me to eat that?” I hear the shake in my voice, and he remains silent as he cuts a neat slice out of the apple and balances it on his knife blade. Moving it up to his mouth he scrapes it off with his teeth. Then he cuts another slice, and offers the blade out to me. His hand is steady as a rock, while I do my best to keep myself composed.
A coat of juice glistens around the slice, and I can already taste how delicious it’s gonna be on my tongue.
My lips tremble, desperate to reach forward and take it. But fear of humiliation stops me. Brax reeks of danger, it’s in his eyes, it’s written all over his face. I felt it when he held the knife against my skin. He likes to play mind games, but I won’t let him fuck with me.
“You shouldn’t give up your fear so freely,” he rasps at me. “Men like me thrive on that shit.” His words provoke a newfound determination inside me, one that makes my lips kick up into a smirk. And I make sure to keep my eyes on his as I use my tongue to trail over my top lip, before leaning forward to take his knife between my teeth. The sharp blade presses into the corners of my mouth as I scrape the slice off it.
I don’t chew straight away, letting the juice absorb onto my tongue and fill my mouth with a crisp sweetness. Brax looks down on me with hooded eyes and traces the tip of his knife along the outline of my mouth. I don’t know how I manage it, but I don’t flinch, I’m more concerned about him noticing that my nipples are standing up under his shirt. And trying not to look at his crotch now that it’s level with my eyes
“Good girl.” He nods his approval at me, slowly stepping backward and taking his place back against the wall.
As the evening grows darker, so does the intensity, and all I can do is sit and watch him drink from the bottle until there’s hardly any left. I can’t help wonder how something so bad can be so compelling, the man even makes smoking cigarettes look sexy. He’s been staring at me for so long now, like he’s trying to figure stuff out in his head. And if he’s drunk it could benefit me, he might get sloppy.
I could try and make a run for it when he moves me upstairs. That’s if he even intends to take me upstairs to sleep tonight. The thought of spending another night on that mattress makes me shudder, but after being in the same position all day I think I’d actually welcome it.
Unfortunately for me, the alcohol seems to have no effect on Brax.
“What’s your story?” he asks, tipping his head to one side like he’s trying to read the thoughts in my head. His eyes are still so focused, although now they have a red rim around them that makes them look slightly vulnerable. His lips are thicker too, swollen from drinking from the bottle.
“Come on, tell me what brings ya here.” He takes another long swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What do you mean? Brax, you brought me here. You’re the one who took me.” I shake my head back at him, confused and angry at the same time. Brax snorts a laugh as if my frustration amuses him.
“If you don’t know why I’m here, why are you doing this?” I question him, this could be my chance to get some answers.
“Prez’s orders,” he rasps sarcastically.
“Prez. Who’s Prez?”
He doesn’t answer me, but I’m not ready to let the conversation end. Brax has so much more to tell, and I’m taking advantage of the fact that alcohol has made his tongue a little loose.
“And do you always do what Prez tells you to do?” I bite back at him, expecting an angry response. When all I get back is a simple nod of his head, I don’t even have to fake the giggle that spills from my mouth.
“What ya finding so funny?” His eyes narrow as he lifts up his chin.
“You just don’t seem like the kind of guy who does as he’s told.” I shrug, then quickly drop my clever smile when he stands up and moves closer, he tosses the bottle and pulls me up on to my feet. My body’s bent awkwardly from where I’m cuffed to the radiator and he bends his neck to make sure he doesn’t lose my focus.
“I haven’t decided if I am yet,” he whispers, and the pit of my stomach ignites from the threat in his tone.
His eyes drop between our bodies and it triggers a desperate throb between my legs, one that I need to sustain by squeezing my thighs together. But I can't, not without showing him the effect he’s having on me.
“I have so many ways I could force the truth outta you.” His raspy voice vibrates right through me, and I swallow thickly, feeling a wet patch form in my PJ shorts… My light pink, PJ shorts.
“I could make these lips spill out all your secrets,” he continues, his thumb sliding across my bottom lip before dragging it down to my chin. I hear my own tiny moan, and hope that this time he does mistake it for fear because if he knows what really caused it, I’m fucked.
“Your temptress games ain’t gonna work on me. I don’t crave the warmth of a woman.” He looks down between us like he can sense the heat torturing me between my legs.
“So what do you crave?” I ask, intrigued. I’d like to know how a man like Brax could be broken.
“Pain.” He says the word slowly, as he strokes that finger over my lip again.
“I like to create it and I like the way it looks on people.” He rests his other hand against the wall behind my head and I can smell the liquor on his breath as he gets closer.
“And you think it would look good on me?” I ask bravely, watching his lips kick up into a tiny sadistic smile.
“Pray to God that you never have to find that out.”
His soft touch turns firm when his hand suddenly clutches my cheeks, squeezing them together, and forcing my mouth to open.
“You think this is a game, sweet thing? You're wrong. My people don’t bury the secrets they want kept, we tear ‘em apart, piece by fucking piece. And some of us… the real fucked up ones like me, really fucking enjoy doing it. Don’t underestimate the trouble you’re in, little girl.”
Releasing his grip, he cruelly smothers his whole palm over my face, pushing it aside like he’s offended by it. Then he stumbles out the room, with the dog following behind him.