Chances (Mystic Nights #1)(48)

*

She didn’t know how she had done it, but she had fallen asleep and when she awoke it was completely pitch black. As far as she could ascertain it was both dark in the cabin, and dark outside. Nothing but blackness. It must have been her exhaustion, the stress of the day, and the constant motion of the boat that had finally gotten the best of her and lulled her into a fitful sleep.

She didn’t know how long she had been sleeping. But the one thing she did know was that the boat was not moving now. Not the way it had been speeding along before. She had grown up by the sea and she could tell by the motion that Peter had let down the anchor. And the footfalls above told her there was only one person above deck. Peter. And that he was battening down the hatches, and pulling in the sails. Please, she prayed, let someone, anyone come across them. She knew her time was running out. He’d already informed her he wouldn’t be taking her to his final destination. She knew too much, and had no identification. She’d dropped her purse in his cabin, the moment he’d hit her it had gone careening across the floor. But it was also the reason she had a bit of hope. Hope that someone would think to look for Peter and find it, then question why.

She tugged at her cords and could barely move. And even though her arms were just above her she couldn’t see her hands at all. Scanning the darkness, she hoped her eyes would adjust, but still only bulky forms took shape. There was no way out of this, not until Peter came down and turned on a light. She’d have to wait it out and save her strength and seize any opportunity that came her way.

*

It took him about twenty minutes, and when she heard the tell tale sounds of the hatch door being opened, she winced involuntarily. She had a horrible feeling about what might come next. She just hoped she had an opportunity to get away or stop him.

A soft pale golden light entered the cabin before she saw Peter’s face peering down, illuminated by the small lantern he held. Then the light disappeared, and she cursed herself for looking at him instead of around for a knife, or anything to cut her self loose. Straining at her cords had been useless. It had only made her wrists and ankles raw with the effort.

“Honey, I’m home,” she heard his gruff sarcastic voice, then the sight of his booted feet coming down the stairs, with a battery powered lamp set on dim, swaying from one hand.

Inside she cringed. He sounded too happy. When both of his feet finally hit the ground, he turned to face her. “We’ve docked for the night. Thought I saw a chopper a while back, but it’s been long gone for some time. I waited to be sure it wasn’t coming back. Aren’t we lucky?”

Again his sarcasm caused her already sensitive stomach to roll. She watched as he hung the lantern on a hook above his head and stripped off his shirt in one jerky motion. She noticed that it was soaked from the spray of the waves.

She kept silent as he took some water from a jug, poured it into a bowl, and grabbing a cloth from one of the shelves above him began to clean himself up. She chanced a glance around the small cabin. Everything was tethered or secured to the walls in some fashion. She kept looking back to Peter too. She didn’t want him to catch her and know what she was planning. She wanted to be sure not to provoke him in any way and hasten her demise. She needed all the time she could get.

When he was finished, he stretched and although he wasn’t as tall as Jonathan, his hands reached the ceiling. He moaned with satisfaction as he did so.

“Oh, God, I’m exhausted,” and Aliya almost sighed with relief, but she heard him cackle with mirth as he continued. “But not too exhausted.” Her eyes snapped open as he began to approach her on the bed. He sneered down into her face. She moved as far back as the small pillow he’d put under her head would allow, but he just got closer until he was inches away from her. She had nowhere else to go. “I keep my promises,” he leered as he yanked the gag out of her mouth. She was already whimpering though a part of her told her not to react, be strong, and don’t let him see her disgust or revulsion. But her emotions had a hold of her. Her cries got louder.

“Please, Peter. Don’t. Just let me go,” she cried begging for her life and the life of her unborn child.

His response was another slap across the face that made her cry out loudly.

“Scream all you want, bitch. We are in the middle of nowhere.” His next action was to grab ahold of her shirt, and he tore the fabric using both hands. His eyes feasted on her breasts. He fondled his cock in his pants, and without any other warning he threw himself upon her. Her struggles to get away were pointless. Her back was literally up against the wall as he crawled in beside her.

She continued to cry as he plucked one nipple through her thin bra, and squeezed her other breast harshly. His eyes, like black diamonds, glittered hard. She turned her head away from the sight of him and steeled herself against this onslaught.

He began to fumble with her pants when they both heard a thump.

Peter immediately stilled. Then they heard a second soft thump. Peter hastily got up from the bed, and peered out the porthole. There was no further sound for what seemed like a full minute.

Aliya let out her breath and screamed. She didn’t know if someone was out there, but it was the only chance she had. That noise could have been a loose sail, an unhinged rope, a bird, but she prayed fervently that it was more.

“I don’t see anything, but I’ll go up and check to be sure. Stay right there,” he stated turning to her, and then laughed. She wasn’t going anywhere. They both knew that.