The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(131)

A low chuckle left his lips and he lifted his touch from her completely, giving her his back as he turned away. “You have no idea.”

“Why? Tell me what I don’t know.” She rattled the chains at her hands and feet. “It’s not like I can do anything, so why not just tell me what the hell we’ve done to deserve this before you decide to torture me again?”

“Oh, Rapunzel, Rapunzel…” For a moment she couldn’t tell if he was quoting the witch or the prince, and when he twisted to look at her again, the hunger in his eyes seemed to be a mix of both. “You don’t want to know what I know.”

“Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want, because trust me you don’t know.” Their gazes locked for a moment, and she didn’t budge, didn’t back down, even when he faced her and slid his palm up her leg to cup her mound.

“I think I know what you want more than you want to admit, and you have no idea what you’re asking for, princess.”

“Try me.”

He shook his head slowly, one finger dipping between her lips to tease the liquid heat that seemed to be a constant companion. “Did daddy dearest ever touch you, Rapunzel? Is that why he’s kept you with him in The Tower all these years?”

“No!” The recoil from his words was immediate, but when she struggled, he just pushed inside her. Teasing her with torturously tender touches.

“Are you sure? Not once?” He shifted until he was looking down at her, his hand still buried between her thighs, a crook of his finger sending a tremor through her muscles. “He never snuck into your room to have a taste?”

“You’re sick!” she screamed at him, but he just rolled his eyes and pulled away from her, leaving the stoked heat at her core untended.

“And you’re blind, princess, but that’s why you’re chained to the floor while he walks free, isn’t it?” There was a poisonous edge to his tone as he stared at her. Her lips parted to respond, but her mind froze. It was something in his eyes, those tawny pools filled with some kind of knowledge, and for a flash there was no anger—just pity.

For himself? For her?

He broke their gaze then, facing the wall he’d pinned her against before. The memories were bitter fire, twisting and winding their way through her. Urging her to fight, to scream, to demand he answer her. But then, without another word, he stood and walked to the door. Leaving before she could rally her thoughts enough to respond. When the door clanged shut, she let out a frustrated scream, bucking against the chains as if they’d suddenly decide to free her.

“You don’t know anything! Not about him, and not about ME! This is just some sick game you’re playing, you asshole! You bastard!” Her throat ached with how loud she shouted the words, her vocal cords straining.

He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know a goddamned thing about me.

He’s a liar, a monster.

When she dropped back to the thin mattress, she hated how much warmer she felt on top of it, hated how her body seemed to urge her to sleep since, for the first time in what seemed like days, she wasn’t curled up on a cold, hard floor. The lights dimmed a bit, but they didn’t go out, and despite her racing heart and bubbling anger at his twisted accusations—she was grateful he kept the soft glow in the ceiling.

As much as she wanted to nurse her hatred, her anger, the exhaustion was winning. It didn’t care about the twinge in her shoulder, or the pulse between her thighs, or the terrible things he’d said. There were only the eight glowing eyes blinking to life as sleep swallowed her whole.





Chapter Five





Adam slammed his fist down on the desk, leaning forward to glare at the screen, grabbing the mouse in a grip hard enough to make the plastic creak. The timer had gone off over ten minutes ago, but he was still sitting in the chair watching his email and waiting for the confirmation that Sinclair had sold the companies.

Are you really going to test me you son of a bitch?

With a growl, he grabbed the bottle of rum, tilting it up to take another harsh swallow. The fire burned its way into his belly, joining the bitter rage that had been a constant companion for years, but not even the alcohol could calm him right now. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of this was how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to be so delicate, so pretty when she cried, so sweet as she pleaded—no, she was supposed to be vicious and biting. Catty and cruel. Like every one of those rich bitches who filled the rooms of the city’s elite.

And Daniel Sinclair was supposed to be falling all over himself to get her back.

Setting the dark liquor back on the desk, he flipped over to his tracking program, checking his work for the tenth time—but he hadn’t made a mistake. All of the files had been opened.

Every single one.

Sinclair knew exactly what he was doing to her, to his only offspring, but he wasn’t responding.

Was she not the key? Did the bastard even have a weakness?

Adam growled and kicked the CPU under his desk as he pushed himself away from the set up. He was surrounded by evidence. Filing cabinets full of things that damned the asshole and verified that the blonde was the crux of whatever was left of Daniel Sinclair’s soul. She had been pampered since birth, protected, sheltered in that Tower the man had built to worship himself. To keep his sweet little Rapunzel high above the dirt of the earth.