Page 24 of Targeted By Desire

I whipped my head around to look up at him. In the newfound darkness, I could barely make out the silhouette of his face. I could only imagine some of the features I’d made out in the flickering lights of the candles. The perpetual, apathetic line on his lips. Sharp jawline. Steady yet piercing dark eyes. Not much for a detailed sketch, but at the very least, a strong foundation.

“You promised he’d be safe,” I said.

“On the condition that you behave.”

“I will if you let him go.” I dug my heels into the pavement, trying to cease our steps. “Now.”

My protest didn’t make him skip a beat. Continuing his stride, he swooped down, swooped his arm around my thighs and threw me over his shoulder.

“Hey!” I yelled, taken aback by the sudden lift. “Put me down!”

“I don’t take orders from my targets,” he replied.

Growling, I balled up my fists and punched his back with all my might. “Let go of me, you brute!”

“Name calling won’t do you any favors.”

“Ugh!” I groaned. I writhed and wiggled in his grasp, but his grip was iron tight.

He walked a few extra feet before finally stopping.

I heard the soft creak of metal locks and doors. I tried to crane my neck to see over my shoulder, but I couldn’t catch a good view without the light. My silent questions were quickly answered when he flung me off his shoulder and onto a hard, metal surface.

My back roared from the collision. Sharp tingles trickled down my spine into my hips and legs, stunning every muscle in their path.

Taking advantage of my temporary paralysis, my captor grabbed both of my wrists in one hand and a string of rope with another. Harshly, he yanked me up into a sitting position and wrapped the thick rope around my wrists.

I gritted my teeth at the uncomfortable prickling of the sharp straw poking out of the rope. It was wound so tight, it felt like tiny needles digging into my skin.

Once my hands were bound, his gaze lowered to my legs.

An instinctual roll of nausea rolled through my stomach as I brought my knees up and crossed my ankles. “Don’t touch me,” I warned as I scooted backwards. “I swear to God, tied up or not, I will claw your fucking eyes out.”

I couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but I noticed the slight tilt of his head. “I’m not a good person,” he admitted. “But there are lines I would never cross.” He held out his hand. “I need to take your shoes off.”

His words, drenched in his deep voice and mixed with the silent chivalry of holding out his palm as if asking for mine, almost made me believe there was a kind soul in there - somewhere deep, deep down.

Then, he snatched my ankle and yanked me so harshly I flew backward, and all thoughts of potential redemption slipped away.

Familiar with the tingles of pain, I ignored the sensation and kicked my stilettos towards his face. “Let. Me. Go.” I said firmly, flicking my leg with every word.

Effortlessly, he wrapped his arm around both of my flailing legs and pinned them against the side of his abdomen. With his free hand, he unhooked the straps of my stilettos around my ankles and replaced it with the rugged texture of the rope. As he dropped my legs onto the ground, I felt a different type of tingle roll over my body. The one I got whenever he looked me over, like a predator admiring the prey they’d caught.

He lingered there for a moment as if he was going to say something, but ultimately stepped back and closed the door.

Cloaked in blackness, I couldn’t see past my nose. My heart began to race and my stomach threatened to clench. Walls I couldn’t see began to cave in, and it became harder to breathe in the lack of space. I started breathing faster, desperate to catch every single ounce of oxygen available.

No, no, I told myself as I shut my eyes. I can’t panic. I’ll find a way out of this. I always do.

Inhaling a deep breath, I tried to relax my body. “I’m fine,” I whispered. “I’m fine.” Although farthest from the truth, the statement helped ease my nervous system. In situations like this, I needed to stay calm and level-headed. Panicking would muddle my thoughts and erase any chance of survival. And I had no choice but to survive.

Above my head, I heard the driver’s door open and slam shut. I shifted my neck back to catch a glimpse of the front seat of the van.

Slivers of light pierced through the window shield, outlining the shadow of my captor’s head and hands as he pushed the key into the ignition and twisted.

The floor beneath me vibrated as the engine came to life, and the cab rocked from the slow roll of the tires. But, I didn’t let the unsettling sounds distract me.

My breaths steadied with a few more deep breaths. I grabbed hold of the fear creeping up my body and shoved it back down in the hole it’d come from. I covered it with the heaviest objects I could imagine to trap it there.