Page 6 of Taken In Trade
“Keep telling yourself that, princess,” he says with a snort.
Having an unfamiliar man watch me pull down my panties is embarrassing. It’s not nearly as bad as him refusing to leave the room as I pee, though.
“I feel like I’m about to explode, but I must have a shy bladder. Nothing is happening,” I say, cutting my eyes to where he stands in the doorway. “You could give me some privacy. That might help.”
“Give it a few seconds. It’s probably the drugs.” He shrugs a massive shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest.
My eyes narrow.
This cannot be my life.
“If you’ve changed your mind, I can take you back to the bed,” he says, and it sounds like a threat.
I stare at the wall in front of me, trying to pretend he’s not here. It doesn’t help, even though my bladder is so full that it’s physically painful. Wiggling around the toilet seat also doesn’t force my body to do what it needs to do.
“Let’s see if this helps.” He turns on the water in the sink. “I have orders not to let you out of my sight, but I’ll close my eyes and just stay here in the doorway to make sure you can’t escape. How about that? Will that help?”
“Thanks,” I mutter, checking to make sure his eyes are really shut.
They are, and I’m finally able to pee.
Once I’m done, I reach back to flush the toilet, struggle to pull up my panties, and stand.
But I’m still wobbly.
He strides over, grabbing my hips as I acclimate to being vertical once more. After that, he helps me wash my hands, which is thoughtful.
I guess.
Honestly, it’s more like the least he can do, but whatever.
“Thanks…” I say as he dries my hands with a hand towel. “What should I call you?”
“Magnum,” he says without missing a beat. He tosses the towel on the counter and guides me back into the hotel room.
Giving me a name could be a very bad sign that he doesn’t expect me to make it out of here to tell my family who held me captive. Or it could be a good sign, and we’re building a rapport.
Hell if I know which one.
“Look, I know you’re scared, but if everything goes well, we’ll be trading you back to Moretti within a few short hours,” he says, helping me take a seat on the edge of the bed.
It’s hard to scramble to sit back against the pillows with my hands still tied together. Though it is nice to be able to move my legs independently of one another.
Hopefully he forgets.
If he does, it’ll be easier to run if I get a chance to escape.
He grabs one of the chairs at the small table, brings it over next to the bed, and takes a seat. “Do I need to bind your legs, or are you going to be a good girl and behave?”
My eyes cut to his.
That’s playing dirty.
Omegas crave praise, but it’s unfair to prey on my instincts.
“Damn, I’m lucky your hands are bound. Huh?” He chuckles a low, throaty sound. “You’re looking murdery, princess.”
Well, good.
