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Sinister Love (Dark Intentions Duet #2)
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He was a drug I couldn’t kick. I’d overdosed on him before. It didn’t turn out well.
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My hands are sliding along the rough walls, while silently I’m counting to ten before I manage to pull myself up to move. It’s slow, deliberate counts. My body’s sore, my hands are tingling. All my muscles scream at the small movements I’m making. I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been locked in here. My head’s still foggy from that day when I was collected.
I remember seeing his face, the pain and the promise he would come for me. Then nothing more. All black. And this is where I’ve awoken, in this place, and this has been where I’ve stayed.
How many days I can’t tell you, I don’t even remember if it’s morning or night. It’s hard to keep track when there’s no light, no food, and only a toilet. I’ve been eyeing that toilet now for what seems like hours. My stomach’s gotten to the point that it hurts so much I can’t move. No one has offered me food or water.
The jeans I was wearing when I was collected now fall from my hips, and if I stood, I know they would fall off me. So yeah, that toilet water is looking very good right about now.
There’s a sheet underneath my feet, and it’s all there is to sleep on. It’s damn cold in here, and I’ve become immune to the shivers that wrack my body consistently. I’m surrounded by cement walls and a high ceiling. There are no windows, just dank darkness and unending night. Maybe this is my hell. The punishment I’m receiving for loving him, for betraying her. This is the well-deserved penance I must pay.
Lifting my hand, I wipe my face trying to get my eyes to focus before I place it back down to move toward the toilet. My stomach’s worse now, the pain almost unimaginable. I need something to keep going, and it looks like this is my only hope—toilet water.
It shouldn’t kill me, right?
Trying to move my hands is harder than I imagine. They don’t want to move, at all. Pain and cold, two things that are causing my body to become more and more immobilized as the time wears on. My body’s aching, not hurting now but more like excruciating agony with each movement. My stomach seems to be throbbing the most—it feels as if it’s eating itself.
As I’m attempting to stand, I hear something. It’s only a slight noise, but I look up, and a pair of dark eyes are staring back at me through a small hole in the door. I gasp, and the eye disappears. Then the door opens, and I see light for the first time. There’s a man dressed in all black, and he steps into the room. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.
Was he one of the ones that took me?
My memory’s not the best at the moment, but he must be.
Trying to get away from him is useless, I can barely move. He stops his boots inches from my hands which are spread out on the cold, damp floor. Daring myself to look up, I do, my eyes running the length of him. Black trousers, followed by a black shirt, his eyes dark and he’s smirking down at me.
He pulls out a bottle of water and dangles it in front of me. His eyes are teasing, but I know I have to drink that water. I manage to move my hand ever so slowly, but he tsks at me then the water disappears as he bends down, so his face is in line with mine.
“You’re a pretty little thing. He doesn’t really know what to do with you, yet. Considering he can’t fuck you and all.”
My insides scream. They’re not allowed, it’s part of his deal. For that part I’m thankful. He pulls the water bottle around in front of my face and then pours it over my head. My face lifts in an attempt to get some in my mouth, but the moment I get the first gulp he pulls it away.
“Maybe we can use you against Ryken. He does have everything he shouldn’t have.”
“Please…” I’m not listening. My eyes are glued to that water, it’s like a carrot being dangled in front of a rabbit. I want that water more than I want to listen to his drivel.
“Please what, Blondie?”
“Water, please.” I’m not above begging at this moment as my hand tries to reach out for it, but he just continues to smirk. Pulling the bottle away only slightly.
“You need to meet him first, Blondie.” He looks me over then shakes his head. “First, you’ll shower.” He stands and pulls me with his hand to a standing position.
Weakness wracks my body.
My knees quiver. My head spins so fast I swear I’m on one of those carnival rides. Amazingly, he puts his arm under mine and assists me along. Well, if you can call it assisting, more like dragging, but I’ll take whatever he gives me. I want to shower, more than anything. The thought of the water is what stops the screams that wants to rip from my mouth, not only due to the pain, but also from being terrified as he pulled me up.