Vik by Belle Aurora

33

Nastasia

Pollux wasn’tmuch as far as company went, but he kept me out of my cage for half the day. Unfortunately, after dark, I was placed back in my prison, and it didn’t take long for me to go stir-crazy. I did what I could to pass the time, going through Roam’s clothing in hopes of finding a weapon, but all I found was stacks of cash, condoms, and a bunch of Zippo lighters, all engraved with the same unique skull logo.

By the time I was done snooping, I realized I couldn’t remember where everything went. After a small amount of reasoning with myself, I decided to plunk all of what I’d found onto the black leather ottoman bench seat in the center of the closet. After all, I was pretty sure Roam knew I’d be searching his shit. Hence why I found no weapons.

My hand banged against the door feebly, and I called out, “I need to use the bathroom.”

And I really did. It bordered discomfort, and I squeezed my legs together as my bladder screamed out for relief.

I tried over and over again to garner some attention, and it was only when I’d given up hope that anyone was there when I remembered what Castor told me.

I didn’t expect much, but that didn’t stop my heart from catching in my throat when I said the pathetic words out loud.

“I’m hungry.”

Testing the theory, I kept quiet and simply waited.

So, imagine my surprise when not five minutes later, I heard approaching footsteps. I backed up as the closet door opened, and when Roam stood imposingly tall in the doorframe with narrowed eyes, I stopped breathing. He looked down at me with petulance. I peered up at him with apprehension. Then, he jerked his chin, holding the door open and moving out of the way, and because I was exhausted and didn’t have a lot of energy, I crawled out on my hands and knees, only managing to stand when Roam’s fingers curled around my upper arm and pulled me up.

It worked.

Oh my God. It worked.

I made a mental note to kiss Castor smack on the lips the next time I saw him.

Roam didn’t release my arm as he walked me down to the kitchen, steadying me as I took slow, precise steps down the stairs. Once we were in the kitchen, Roam left me by the double-wide doors as he opened cupboards, picked up boxes and containers, then sighed out, “Sick and tired of this shit being left in my fucking pantry.” His jaw tightened as he lifted one box, shook it, and said, “Nothing but crumbs.” Then he peeked in another box. “Four crackers left in this one.” He pulled out a box of mac and cheese and examined it before throwing it onto the counter. “Out of date.” He moved to the fridge and opened it, inspecting the contents. “Can you cook?”

“Not well,” I admitted quietly, my voice rough.

And he narrowed his eyes on me. “Why the fuck not? Your mom didn’t teach you?”

In my head, she cackled, and my arms broke out in goose bumps.

I took a cautious step forward, unconsciously scratching at my arm, shook my head, and offered a reluctant, “She died when I was a kid.”

I wasn’t looking for sympathy, so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get it. Instead, he scowled at me. “What do you plan on feeding your child? Frozen nuggets and Eggos?”

Firstly, I loved dino nuggies. I started by nibbling their limbs, then their little heads, until finally devouring their delicious bodies. I always kept a box in my freezer for the days I kidnapped Lidi, and whenever I did, I fed her all the things she wasn’t normally allowed to eat.

Secondly, there wasn’t a child alive who didn’t love Eggos. My child would be so lucky to have Eggos for breakfast. And occasionally, we would. So, sue me.

This topic of conversation had me feeling more at ease with this unpredictable man. I took another step forward, then another, until I took a seat on a stool at the island. And I had to concede, Roam was right. I really did need to brush up on what little cooking skills I had. “I was thinking of asking Vik’s mom to teach me.”

“She good?” he asked distractedly as he threw a couple of eggs into a pan.

“The best,” I revealed with reverence, and as I glanced at this hard man who was cooking me eggs simply because I told him I was hungry, I wondered if light conversation would unravel the first thread of what I hoped was many. He was manipulative, but I could be too. So, I began to talk, carefully at first. “She cooks like she never left Russia.” Then, a little more openly. “Makes meals that make your mouth water. Her cakes are to die for. My mom wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart, so when I went to Vik’s and saw the kind of mom he got, I was jealous. I always felt more at home at his house than I did at my own.” I hoped to appear obedient and passive as I lowered my gaze and uttered, “I want to be that kind of mom.”

But if I hoped Roam would be moved, I was sorely disappointed. Especially when he uttered an aloof, “Look, I don’t need to hear your life story.” He scooped the eggs onto a plate and slid it over to me. “The quicker you eat, the quicker you go back in your cage and I can get back to work.” He handed me a fork, and as I stretched out to take it, he pulled it out of reach. And I blinked. “You got something to say to me?”

My eyes were glacial, but I kept my tone even. “Thank you.”

He held it out once more, and I slowly reached for it. When it was clear he wasn’t going to take it away, I grasped it between my fingers and brought it to my plate before I began to salivate, and not in a good way.

Suddenly, I closed my eyes, and my breathing turned heavy. A cold sweat swept over my forehead, and I gripped the edge of the island, swallowing hard and letting out a strained, “Bathroom.”

Roam chuckled. “Oh no, honey. You sit here, you eat, then you go do your business before you go back in your cage. That’s what’s happening.”

My head swam as the smell of the eggs became stronger and stronger until I pushed my plate away with a clatter and breathed out a shaky, “I’m not feeling very well.”

“I don’t give a shit. Now, eat.”

Oh no. Here it comes.

Within seconds, the tightness in my throat quadrupled, and my body folded. I covered my mouth with one hand, holding my stomach with the other, and then I was heaving. I knew it was the wrong time, but much to my delight, I gloated in the way Roam’s lip curled as he realized I wasn’t faking it. I stood and rounded the island, rushing toward the closest thing I could think of to vomit in.

The kitchen sink.

I made it just in time to lose what little I had in my stomach into the wide-bottomed kitchen sink, and the sound of my gags along with the splattering noise that seemed to echo through the room was enough to disgust anyone.

“Fucking hell,” muttered Roam, reaching out to turn on the water, letting it run as I continued to breathe shakily and spit the remnants of the bitterness from my mouth.

Sweaty and weak, I reached out for the water using my shaking hands as a cup and bringing the cool water to my mouth. The first few times, I simply rinsed. The next few times, I took the cold water and splashed my face with it, hoping to wash away this awful feeling of helplessness that plagued me.

I was so tired. I just wanted to go home.

“Roam,” I all but pleaded with my head still hanging over the sink. “Please let me go.”

But Roam was not moved. And when his fingers snaked around my arm, tightening on it hard enough to sting, he yanked, forcing me to look at him. Droplets of water trickled down my neck, into my shirt, and onto my chest.

Roam’s furious gaze landed on me. “I would rather kill you than let you free.” My stomach turned, because I heard nothing but honesty in those harsh words. “If I don’t get what I want,” he vowed, “nobody gets what they want.”

And I swallowed hard.

His intensity grew, and the tightness on my arm increased enough to make me wince. “I don’t lose often, but when I do”—he grinned cruelly—“that’s when I set fire to pretty, delicate things and watch them burn until they’re nothing but embers and ash.”

I knew it was only a threat, but he made it sound like a stone-cold fact.

That grin fell and those midnight eyes locked me in place. “When I lose,” he uttered candidly, “I make sure everybody does.”

My heart beat noticeably faster.

I had to make sure I survived this. I had to, even if only to tell Vik he was a thoughtless prick for getting himself involved with this psychopath. If I made it out of this gorgeous but cold-feeling house, I would be doing just that.

And because my survival instincts told me to say the words, I did, albeit feebly. “I’m very hungry.”

It took a moment, but Roam’s expression lost some of its steam, but when it did, I felt like I’d won a small yet significant victory. He released my arm, and my entire body jolted as he passed me and opened the fridge to remove a block of cheese and some bread. And his actions had a hazardous thought blanketing my mind.

How dangerous could this man be if something so simple as hunger could trigger a nurturing response from him?

With a sigh, he worked in silence, and I watched him in silent curiosity as he made two grilled cheese sandwiches, cutting them in half and putting them on a plate before sliding it onto the island.

To show gratitude was easy, and my previous thought spurred on a new one.

Roam did not react well to attitude. He didn’t have a soft heart, so looking for sympathy wasn’t a smart move. But how would he respond to sincere gratefulness?

I still had time to make this situation work for me, to put myself in a better position. All I could do was try.

As Roam moved to pass me, I placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he stilled. I took the opportunity to utter a quietly sincere, “Thank you.”

I hoped for a softening of some kind. A slight nod of acknowledgment. Perhaps a moment of mutual respect.

Of all the reactions I expected, the one I got was not one I planned for.

Roam’s eyes flashed, and he moved so fast I had no chance of stopping him. His hand snapped out quick as a flash, and he gripped my wrist with such strength that I thought he might break it in two. A terrified yelp left me, and my mouth rounded in surprise as those long fingers dug into my flesh, hard enough to make me flinch.

Oh God.

Fear spilled into me, a torrent of water filling every crevice.

What have I done?

Raw fury vibrated off of the beast in front of me. I just couldn’t understand why.

“Never without my permission,” he spoke quietly, but the words were brimmed with rage. His jaw tightened, then ticked. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me without my permission.” He flung my hand off to the side, hard enough to make my entire body jostle, and the word echoed as he thundered, “Never!”

My eyes widened. I took a shaky step back and swallowed hard as his rigid shoulders rose and fell with every harsh breath he took. I hoped to protect myself, but Roam looked manic. And I was the cause.

Shit.

Yeah. A mistake was made here. One I now knew better than to repeat.

The second he stepped forward with the eyes of a shark who smelled blood, my entire body recoiled. My arms came up to cover my head as I panicked. My mouth opened, and the words shot out before I could stop them. “I’m hungry!”

I heard him still midstep. The silence worked its way around my neck like a noose.

Roam’s brows lowered, and my heart stuttered. His expression went from confused to raw, blazing fury in less than five seconds, and when he spoke in deathly quiet, I knew I’d blatantly shown him my hand. “Oh honey, who have you been talking to? Which one was it?”

My stomach ached painfully.

Oh, Jesus.

There was no coming back from this. Whatever opportunity I had to secure my safety disappeared in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” was my weedy response.

He knew I was lying. I sounded like I was lying. I saw him struggle to keep it together. So, when the anger on his face turned impassive, my heartbeat slowed with the assumption that he managed to quell the wrath.

I was wrong.

Roam picked up my plate, spun around, reared back, and threw it at the wall as hard as he could, so hard the tendons in his neck tensed into thick ropes. My body went stiff as the sounds of porcelain shattering echoed in my ears. I lifted my hands to cover them as I continued to quiver in terror. His shoulders hard and unyielding, I watched his chest move up and down with each heavy breath, and what he said next had that fear of mine reaching new heights.

With his back to me, he spoke slowly, precisely, and it gave me chills. “If I were you, I’d get the fuck upstairs right now, and I’d stay there. Unless you think you’re brave enough to stay, that is.”

It was funny. He said the words calmly, almost serenely, but I could feel the crackle of electricity in the room as though a storm was coming.

My feet started moving before my brain had the chance to register what just happened. When the sounds of glass shattering could be heard, rough grunts came from behind me and my feet moved faster, taking the stairs two at a time.

I shouldn’t have cared, and right now, I didn’t, but I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to this man to make him the way he was.

Nobody was born with Roam’s variety of suffering.

On shaking legs, I hurried upstairs to his room and stared at the closet a long moment before another round of smashing and clattering came from downstairs. A muted roar sounded, and it startled me enough to propel me forward.

And like the good pet I was, I closed the closet door behind me, caging myself.