The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(129)

Two hours and he could have her again.

Glancing at the screen, he knew he should feed her, keep her strength up—but he wasn’t sure he could go in the room and not take her. When he’d turned the lights off, her fear had been palpable, and through the green tint he’d watched her panic as he had slowly turned each camera off. She had screamed so loud, begged so prettily, but he’d held off. Waited until her whispered pleas from the microphones were their own kind of music.

Then, Sinclair’s first timeline had expired while the man had been busy fucking around with his security team instead of calling the number he’d provided.

Not like Adam minded him missing the deadline.

The tight grip of her throat had been glorious. The wet, choking sounds in the darkness better than he’d ever imagined. He’d wanted to chain her up, to take her again, but he still could. There was an endless list of things he could do to the pretty blonde, a thousand ways he could shatter her—and if Sinclair’s timeline ran out again, he’d just have to decide what came next.



Rebecca filled the plastic cup with water again, drinking to ease the ache in her belly, but the sudden jolt of the lock on the door made her drop it. Water splashed on her legs as the cup bounced on the floor, and then the man filled the doorway once again.

Tall, and broad, and terrifying.

His bare chest stunned her, carved muscle leading down to the same dark pants and boots. There was no question in her mind where the strength in his limbs came from, because he would have resembled a Greek statue if his skin weren’t so tan. But for all the bared skin, for every shadowed curve of muscle, that damn mask was still in place leaving him an expressionless, foreboding wall of male aggression.

“Against the wall,” he commanded and she pressed her back firmly to it, but he growled and snapped his fingers. Impatient. “Face the fucking wall, hands behind your back, and do not turn around.”

With a shudder, she obeyed, turning and holding onto one wrist amidst the tangle of her long hair. There was movement, something soft and heavy dropping onto the floor and then being moved. The rattle of chain came next and she whimpered, fighting the urge to turn and see what it was. When the door slammed shut, she jumped, almost risking a glance before she heard him moving, accompanied by the metallic sound of heavy links scraping over the concrete.

Eventually, his heavy footsteps came closer, stopping just behind her, and she tried to suppress the shiver of fear. “It seems your father doesn’t take me seriously. We’re closing in on a very important deadline and I haven’t heard a thing.”

“Just give him more time, he just needs—”

He ripped her head back by her hair, a gasp of pain escaping as he pulled her away from the wall and turned her so she could see the thin, bare mattress on the floor.

No, no, no.

“Didn’t I say I’d give you something to sleep on?” He shook her hard by her hair, the ache spreading across her scalp. “Say thank you.”

“I don’t—” Her words were cut short as he threw her to the floor, and she barely caught herself on her hands before he dug his boot into her hip and knocked her to her side.

“Say thank you, slut.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he reached for her, but she scrambled backwards. “Thank you! Okay? Thank you.” She faced him, trying to move back a little further as a tremor of fear raced up her back. “There. I said it, just please don’t—” When she held her hands out to stop him from advancing on her, he simply grabbed a wrist and started to drag her towards the mattress.

“That didn’t sound very sincere,” he muttered as he hauled her behind him. Rebecca tried to stop him, tried to slow his advance, but her struggles were useless as he threw her down onto the dingy fabric.

“I’m sorry! Just please—”

“I don’t want to hear it, lay down.”

Twisting at the waist, she caught sight of the cluster of chain at the top of the mattress and she tried to run, to throw herself off the thin, padded surface, but he caught her. His heavy body absorbed every flailing hit as she fought and scratched, ignored every screamed plea that tore at her voice.

Useless.

He overpowered her easily as he pinned her shoulders down, his thumbs digging furrows of rage above her collarbones. “What did I tell you about behaving?”

“Let me up! Just STOP!” She recognized the threat in his tone, but she refused to go quietly. To relent and obey. He had already taken her throat, made her participate in this horror show, and she couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t face the shame. “Don’t do this! Please!”

“You can thank Daddy for this, princess. Apparently he doesn’t love you as much as his precious company.” The words were like a punch to the stomach as he straddled her hips and forced her wrists down above her head. She sobbed and kicked, trying desperately to buck him off her—but all of it pointless. A waste of precious energy.

Why wasn’t her father doing everything he could to save her?

Where was he?

The pile of chain above her head shifted and he released one of her hands to clasp the other into some kind of leather cuff. She inched her free hand down towards her chest, but he simply huffed and snagged it again, gripping it painfully as if he were silently chastising her. In a matter of moments he had both of her wrists bound in cuffs, tiny locks keeping them closed despite her desperate attempts to rip them open again. That masked face stared down at her, ominous and blank. “Your father is a selfish bastard, you know that?”