My stomach cramped, and I dropped my arms to hug there instead of my chest. “What do I have to do to convince you to leave? What if I promise to come get you the moment I’m done? Then I’ll let you watch me shower. Then you can touch me, command me, use me in any position you want...all you have to do is let me have a few moments alone.”

His jaw clenched; his dark eyes turned black. His long hair tumbled to the side as he tilted his head. Obvious lust flared, but his lack of trust was stronger. “Nothing will convince me. I’m not moving.”

I glanced around the room. I tried to come up with a way to assure him I wasn’t going anywhere even though every molecule in my body screamed to bolt. A curtain cord bound the white gauzy drapes by the non-existent mirror. Odd to have curtains in a steamy bathroom, but it only added to the level of silver luxury.

Dashing forward, I unwound the cord and held it up. “You could tie my ankles.”

“Won’t work. You’d just untie yourself if I didn’t bind your hands.”

“I need my hands to...eh, undress.”

He shrugged. “So I stay. And I watch.”

Nausea flowed up my throat. “I literally won’t be able to do a thing if you do.”

“Not my problem.”

“It is your problem. My death will be your problem.”

“Your death would be a relief.”

I narrowed my eyes. That wasn’t a flippant phrase. He genuinely meant that. He showed no fear of corpses or the hypothetical clean-up of my demise.

Argh!

How could I get through to him? How could I make him care?

You can’t. You’re his enemy.

The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.

Easy?

Ha, this would never be easy!

Every second with this bastard was the hardest thing I’d ever endured.

I...I—

Gem, stop...

The sleeplessness. The stress. It all crushed me until the stinging tears refused to be swallowed back any longer.

No.

A few escaped, sliding down my cheeks.

I swiped at them but couldn’t stop the many droplets following swift behind.

All I wanted to do was use the toilet.

Such a basic human right. Such a factual part of nature that should be private and personal, and if he couldn’t even give me a few minutes alone—

I can’t win.

I can’t do this.

I choked on a sob, refusing to let it sound.

He froze against the doorjamb, his ever-watchful gaze tracking my tears. The front of his slacks still showed his arousal. His naked chest strained as he inhaled, drinking in the sounds of my sadness.

He watched me fighting, doing my best not to break.

He didn’t say a word as I silently slid to the floor and bowed at his feet.

This wasn’t me giving in. This wasn’t me accepting that I wouldn’t keep fighting, keep trying. This was me reaching my limit for tonight. Tomorrow, I would be stronger. Today, I was done.

“I’ll ask you one last time.” I caught his tortured stare. “Leave.”

He inhaled sharply.

I’d kneeled before him this morning and put my mouth on his cock. I’d been submissive and not at all the badass warrior I’d hoped I would be. I’d done those things while doing my best to figure out how to play him. I had reasons for giving in.

But now? Now, I had nothing left.

If he could strip me of such a simple part of life, then he honestly didn’t care about the rest of it. I was just a vessel to fuck until he tired of me.

On the floor of his pristine bathroom, I came to terms with the stark truth. Up till now, I’d dabbled with the idea that I could get him to like me. That the way he watched me meant there was a feeling, breathing male beneath all the coldness. I’d had hopes that by giving him my body, he might give me something greater in return.

He had that capacity inside him.

I’ve seen it.

But that all shattered now.

I didn’t even cry. Not really.

I just...shut down.

I tuned it all out and slouched on the cool tile, ignoring every ache and discomfort in my body.

I didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, his feet scuffed on the marble as he pushed off from the doorframe. He came toward me, tipping my chin up with his finger. He looked deep into my eyes and studied me.

I didn’t look back.

I blinked without seeing.

I deleted him from my existence.

I honestly didn’t care what he’d do.

But then...he was gone.

His finger left a slight burn where he’d touched me, his body leaving a small cloud of his sunshine and shadow scent.

It took a stupidly long time to understand that he’d not only left the bathroom but the bedroom too. He’d left me. Alone. Just like I’d asked.

And that was when I truly cried.

The sob couldn’t be contained, and I crawled to the door on my hands and knees. I slammed it shut as tears gushed down my cheeks. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the toilet.

Ripping off my leggings, I cried even harder as I sat on the cool porcelain and let go.

The relief was instant.

The gratefulness for his disappearance immense.

My body purged, and once it was over, I shook with hunger, fear, and tiredness.

I’d never been so twisted and knotted. I’d never been denied cleanliness or safety. Now that I’d been granted a few moments alone with a shower nearby and my stomach no longer in agony, I couldn’t ignore the pull.

I should launch myself out the window and run.

I should throw caution to the wind and get as far away from here as I could.

But...I’d always been a savvy climber. I was the smart one with the right equipment, enough rations, gear, and technology to prevent a tragedy like the one I’d stupidly fallen into.

And if I ran now, I wouldn’t last long.

I barely had any food in my system. I had no water. It was dark, which meant I couldn’t see where I had to go. I could end up breaking a leg or falling off the cliff as I attempted to escape.

And besides, I’d made a promise.

I’d said I’d stay if he left me alone. If I failed and he brought me back, I would never get another chance to cultivate his trust. To plot a better escape. One where I would succeed.

Tomorrow.

Survive tonight.

Run tomorrow.

With a racing heart, I tore at my dirty clothing.

I kicked off my hiking boots along with my leggings and underwear. Unzipping my windbreaker, I ripped off my hoodie, t-shirt, and exercise bra and threw them all into the corner.

Naked and highly aware I still had streaks of his dried cum on my chest—even after washing the best I could in the dungeon—I darted into the shower and turned on the tap.

Icy water hit me.

It felt sublime.

I didn’t mind it was cold or that my shaking increased until my teeth chattered and kneecaps bounced. I’d never enjoyed a shower as much as this. Never felt so baptized from dirt or refreshed by liquid.

Water sluiced over my face as I tipped my head under and gasped at the chill. My hair plastered down my back. With eyes blinking back droplets, I grabbed the gold-wrapped soap and tore it open, running the flowery scented suds from the top of my head right to my toes.

Heaven.

Hell.

Everything in between.

Only once bubbles covered me did I step back under the cold spray and rinse. My skin burned from the cold, and the contrast between the muggy air and the snowy water was almost an aphrodisiac. My senses were on high alert and strung out. My jumpiness at an all time high.