Plucking the dangling rope, he pulled the leash so I tripped into him. “If anyone is going to be the slave in this scenario, it’s you.” His eyes glittered with something unreadable. “And don’t worry. Tying your wrists is just a temporary measure. I have something far more suitable back home.”

Anger swelled within me. Anger at myself and him. I’d let sex cloud my mind. I’d allowed softness given in sleep and slivers of kindness in the dark to conveniently forget our dynamics had not changed.

He still intended on keeping me a prisoner.

I still intended to escape.

And no matter how skilled I thought I was at seduction, I hadn’t been successful at changing his mind.

With sudden swiftness, he pushed me to the side, grabbed the bag of spare clothes, and yanked out a pair of merlot-colored leggings. Bending, he grabbed my left foot and shoved them up my leg, then repeated with my right. He pulled them up matter-of-factly as if he’d dressed another once upon a time.

Not saying a word, he fumbled at the knot holding my hands together and unwound the rope just long enough to shove my arms into a T-shirt with my local climbing gym’s logo on the breasts, then drape me in a gray windbreaker.

I’d be too hot, but at least I was covered.

With biting fingers, he pulled my wrists back together, wrapped the rope, knotted my imprisonment, and pushed me away.

He didn’t even bother watching me to see if I’d stay put, too focused on leaving camp immediately. With hurried hands, he tipped out my backpack containing my backup laptop, extra video recorder, and spare hard drive.

“Hey!” I darted forward. “Be gentle with that.”

“You won’t be needing it.” Elbowing me away, he scooped up the rest of the chocolate, candy, packet pastas, and water bottles and stuffed them into the bag. With a glower, he hoisted the stash onto his bare shoulders, fisted the rope keeping me prisoner, then dragged me away from my Jeep.

Away from my freedom.

Away from any hope of seeing my family and house again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WHAT THE FUCK HAD I been thinking?

Touching her while she was asleep?

Allowing myself to kiss her? Permitting that gooey, fluttery feeling to infect my chest?

The minute she’d fallen asleep, all my hate and hurting had vanished.

I’d frozen in disbelief that she’d willingly fallen unconscious in my presence.

Me?

The guy who’d trapped her, used her, and promised a lifetime of ownership.

Not even my Fable family had been so trusting with each other.

Her vulnerability carved giant holes inside my heart. I’d felt...protective toward her. My entire purpose on earth was no longer about me, but her. My job was to shelter her during the night, safeguard her from monsters, and ensure she remained safe, warm, and comforted.

Christ, could I be any more of an idiot!

Stalking ahead, I tugged the rope binding her to me.

For the past five hours, we hadn’t said a word to one another. We’d trekked through the still damp forest, following the trail that we’d run the night before.

It seemed we were both content to ignore one another.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t look back.

If I looked at her again, I’d suffer the same agonizing sensation in my gut of spilling secrets she would never be worthy of.

I wanted her to ask more questions. I wanted—

You don’t have a clue what you want.

You buried that part of yourself years ago.

The sun beat down on us, burning my bare chest and making her moan of heatstroke behind me. Occasionally, I’d stop and throw her a bottle of water and a chocolate bar, but apart from that interaction, I’d put a solid brick wall between us.

When we returned to Fables, she was going back to the basement.

She would be allowed out during the day to help me gather supplies for winter, but she would stay in the dark at night. She would learn her place.

She will accept that whatever happened between us last night was a mistake and one that will never be repeated.

When I took her again, it would be on my terms. My rules.

Sex only.

Nothing else.

I would not permit the cracks in my psyche to continue.

Another hour passed.

I kept my attention on the tracks we’d left behind last night, following the valley ridgeline that was so overgrown in places it looked just like part of the woods. Birds followed us as we stirred up insects. Animals scurried away from our footfalls.

Morning turned to afternoon, and my exhausted body and mind began to falter.

I’d told her the truth that I couldn’t sleep anywhere but in my single bed in the dormitory. That lesson had been drilled into me until it was not only a quirk I’d adopted but a law I had to follow.

Each time I’d fallen asleep in a guest’s bed, I’d woken to worst horrors than what’d been done to me while I’d been awake. I’d been sodomized in my sleep. Sliced in my dreams.

I’d woken with someone’s lips on mine and hands pawing at places I couldn’t think of.

Never again would I let myself be so vulnerable with someone.

Not even her.

Another hour passed, and my head continued to feel heavy and imbalanced. My vision played tricks, bouncing over leaves and refusing to focus. Trees blurred, their leaves turning into a rainbow kaleidoscope. Autumn gold with summer green, swirling and blending until the air danced with foliage filaments.

The swelling on my forehead from her shovel strike had receded a little, but the symptoms of a concussion still remained. I’d had a few concussions before from overzealous guests. I’d read, in one of the medical texts in the library, that too many concussions could be bad for the brain.

Perhaps, thanks to her, I’d reached my quota and this time, I wouldn’t recover.

Maybe I was taking her back to be my doctor instead of my prisoner.

My jaw clenched.

The thought of any weakness around her made my stomach churn with acid.

That could never happen.

As we got closer to my valley, the faint ringing in my ears that’d been in the background since yesterday grew louder. It buzzed like angry wasps, making a wave of nausea crawl up my throat.

I needed sleep.

I needed safety.

I’ll rest when we’re home.

As I pushed the final mile, my knees almost buckled as the crisscrossed ceiling of my home came into view. From here, it was a carpet of colorful leaves, hiding the mansion that I had such a complicated relationship with.

I stopped.

I sucked in a breath.

For a second, I felt that strange kind of warmth from last night. It filled my heart with contentment. A faint version of happiness.

I was home.

I was keeping her.

I’m not alone any longer.

Turning, I braced myself to lock eyes with her.

To trip like I did each time I dared look at her.

To continue the inner destruction of my soul.

It was the last thing I remembered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE THING ABOUT LIVING on the edge of safety and sin was...it made you do things you never thought possible. It pushed you into situations you never imagined. It opened up pieces of yourself you weren’t acquainted with, revealing just how cutthroat you could be.

The man I’d slept with, fought with, and ultimately couldn’t decide if I hated or hungered for stalked ahead of me.