Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(14)

If only I could reach it. “I won’t run.”

“I know you won’t. This system will make sure of it.” He advanced.

I pushed harder into the cabinetry but had nowhere else to go.

Only a foot separated us.

Greg smiled then dropped to one knee as if to propose. I held my breath, shock and horror crawling over my insides as he reached for my ankle and latched his heinous fingers around my leg.

The moment he caught me, he wrapped the leather cuff around my limb, pulling tight before running the chain through the small hook at the top and securing it with the aid of another padlock.

The second I was locked in place, he stood with a triumphant look on his face. “You should be able to go anywhere you need in the cabin but not outside.” Returning to the bag, he pulled out another chain, this one shorter with two cuffs on either side instead of one. “Give me your hands.”

“What?”

“Your hands, Elle.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly fucking serious.” He came forward, letting one cuff dangle while he reached for my wrist—the one with rope burns from the stupid twine he’d used.

What the hell is he doing?

“I’m not your prisoner, Greg.”

“I beg to differ.” His fingers bit into my arm as he wrapped the cuff around me and once again secured it with a tiny padlock. At least the leather was soft and supple rather than coarse and prickly. It looked expensive with gold stitching and faux fur trim. Not the cheap kink sold at wannabe sex shops.

Not that I know what cheap or expensive sex toys look like.

A memory of the Seahorse and other dildo samples from Loveline reminded me Penn still had my property.

He has my underwear, too.

At the time, it hadn’t bothered me. I thought I’d be back for more sexcapades, and he would use the toys on me. But that was before he let me walk home and I was almost molested; before he scooped me up and washed my feet. Before his lies came crashing down and burst into fiery flames.

Capturing my other arm, Greg growled as I wriggled and tried to break free. “Stand still.”

He grunted as he tucked my arm against his body and circled my other wrist with the last cuff. The soft snick of the fourth padlock shattered my thoughts of strangling him for my freedom.

“There, nice and secure.” Greg kissed my forehead, pulling me forward thanks to the looping chain now permanently present.

I deliberated punching and kicking and screaming and cursing him, but what would that achieve? My leg was tethered to the fireplace, I was practically naked, and my arms were now joined like an inmate on death row.

He wouldn’t let me run. He wouldn’t let me go.

He’d only pay me back if I hurt him. And I already knew how painful his punches could be.

My temple throbbed in agreement.

Had it only been last night he’d hit me in my apartment garage?

It had to have been centuries with how tired and stressed I was.

Even the thought of having sex in the limo with Penn didn’t affect me the way it had before.

The tummy moths were dead, their paper wings dissolved in bile.

I’d gone from liking Penn to hating him, and it was exhausting hating two people at the same time for entirely different reasons.

Greg released me, inspecting his handiwork. “You look hot in chains.”

“You’ll look hot behind bars when the police catch you.”

“There’ll be no crime once you come around to my way of thinking.”

“I’ll never come around because I don’t want what you do.”

He chuckled under his breath. “So argumentative. I don’t remember you being like that in the past.”

I tried to plant my hands on my hips, but the chain wasn’t quite long enough. I settled for threading my fingers together and holding tight with all the aggression I wished I could throw at him. “That’s because you don’t know me. You never knew me. You never tried to get to know me.”

His brow settled angrily over green eyes. “I’m trying now. So give me a goddamn break and give me a chance.”

I laughed, rattling the chain in his face. “This is not trying. This is kidnapping. Release me.”

“Still used to barking orders, huh, Elle?” He padded barefoot from the kitchen. Hoisting himself onto a bar-stool, he added, “I’m hungry. Let’s get back to the topic of food.”

I moved to face him, glad that the counter now separated us even if he was demanding I cook for him like some slave. I moved my right leg, testing the weight of the chain locking me to the fireplace across the room.

God, that’s heavy.

The metal loops weren’t light nor were they easy to step over or kick away as I did a small circle, testing how fast I could move. The chain around my wrists was lighter, with just enough room to scoop and handle things but not enough to stab him with a knife or swing a skillet on his head.

My shoulders rolled, finally understanding that this wasn’t just a game to him.

This was serious.

“What do you want, Greg?” My bravery faltered. “Tell the truth. I’m done playing.”

He slid off the bar stool, came back into the kitchen, and hoisted himself onto the counter in front of me. “I’m glad you’re finally ready to be sensible.” His dangling legs thudded against the dishwasher as he pulled another knife from the butcher’s block and twirled it tip first again. “But I’ve told you what I want. You just keep ignoring me.”