“You want to leash me like a dog?” she gritted out.
He studied her, face blank.
“You were right. I don’t like it, Nick.”
He placed the glass of water on the bedside table and set his ankle on his knee, his big body hunched over. If it was to try and make him appear smaller, less harmful, it didn’t work. The guy seemed no less dangerous, especially without a shirt on. The tattoos on his shoulders were old school, black and gray ink. Nicely done, if you liked such things. Normally, she really did, but not this time.
“Roslyn, what were you going to do if you got away from me?”
Good question. Her mouth stayed shut.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “You can’t go back to the school. Those idiots just about pissed themselves when I showed up. They’d hand you straight back to me. And even if I was willing to let you go, you know you can’t trust them now. Don’t you?”
Being cuffed, she couldn’t stick her fingers in her ears and sing or something to block him out. But it didn’t mean she had to listen to him. It was a nice, high ceiling—infinitely more appealing than him and his words.
“You wouldn’t be able to survive out there on your own,” he said. “Not for long.”
“I could.”
One dark brow rose in response and then he winced. She hated people who could do that with their eyebrow. Such an arrogant and unnecessary, supercilious thing. Actually, she just hated him. Him and his cool tattoos and practical words. What a grunting, heaving Neanderthal. And this was his cave.
Which made her the bitch being dragged back by her hair, didn’t it?
“Do you even know how to shoot a gun?” he asked.
“Yes. My father taught me.”
“Good.”
“Still going to think that after I put a hole in you?”
The side of his mouth kicked up. “No, probably not. You actually trying to convince me to remove the cuffs, here? ’Cause it’s not working.”
Her bladder made its presence known once more, like a boulder residing below her belly. “Nick, I need to pee. Please.”
“Mm.”
“Are you into humiliation?”
“No. Humiliating you is not the goal.” He looked so sincere, dark eyes serious and mouth set. She almost believed him.
“And yet, the ball gag,” she said.
He shrugged. “I explained about the screaming.”
“Maybe. And I’m just not supposed to ask why you had the gag in the first place, hmm?” She pushed the back of her head into the pillow, turned her gaze back to the ceiling where it belonged. Clenched her thighs tight and hoped she didn’t wet herself.
Man, oh, man.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what, Nick? You’re not exactly leaving me any options, are you?”
“You haven’t left me any either, Roslyn.” He bent and reached beneath the bed. The insidious sound of metal slithering, the clinking of chain, left her no doubt as to his intentions. “Remember that.”
“Yeah, right.” She gave a rough laugh. “You had the chain there the whole time.”
He watched her, face bland, fingers fiddling with the padlock’s small key. The other end of the chain had already been secured to a bed post, ready for use. Fuck him. “Of course I did. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.”
Cold metal touched her skin and the chain was wrapped around her ankle. She gritted her teeth. It was all she could do to stop herself from kicking him. Violence raged inside her.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
The bathroom door opened. Her unhappy face appeared, eyes rimmed red. Damn it.
“Maybe,” she said.
“You’ve been crying?”
“No,” she snapped.