Virgin Bride(87)

She pauses then looks at me again. “We’re near water?”

I nod, smiling at her. “It’s not far at all.”

She stares at me without saying anything for a few second then sits up and leans away from me. She wraps a blanket around herself, and for a second I think I’ve lost her.

“I’d like that,” she says, looking away from me.

I realize why she moved. She’s crying. She’s trying to hide it from me, but she’s definitely crying. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I have the feeling that it’s the wrong move to make. It would only upset her if I saw this weakness.

Instead, I pretend not to notice.

“Good. We’ll play another game soon. And if you win, you can have the ocean.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

I stand and take one last look at her. We made some serious progress today, and I’m optimistic as hell.

But there is still a lot of danger in our future. The worst has yet to come, and I still have another job to do.

“I’ll be back later with dinner,” I say. “And tomorrow, we’ll play.”

“Okay,” she says.

“Bye, my pet.”

She just looks away from me and doesn’t respond.

I leave the cell and shut the door behind me. I lock it before walking away.

That moment on her cot, sharing those stories, that was the most intimate I’ve ever been with a woman. It’s strange to think that I’ve had so many women in my bed over the years, but I’ve never opened up and shared like that with a single one of them.

And yet I find myself wanting Riley to know me. I want her to see the man that I am, not the monster she thinks I am. I want her to know that I’m here to save her and all the women here, that I’m a good guy, that I’m on her side.

I want her to know that I’ll never let another man hurt her again. Not someone here and definitely not her father.

But I can’t. That’s the fucking bitch of this all. I can’t tell her the truth. And so she keeps on thinking that I’m doing this to her just because I’m some sick bastard who wants to mess with her.

It doesn’t matter. Soon, I’ll set her free. She can see the ocean as much as she wants when this is all over. I’ll make sure of that.





15





Riley





All night long, I dream about Logan.

After he left, I tried to distract myself with books and magazines, but I can’t seem to read them. I just keep thinking about the way he rubbed my shoulders and told me about his past, almost like we were real lovers having an intimate moment. For that second, I forgot where we were and what we were, and felt like I was just Riley and he was just Logan.

But that illusion was shattered. Still, the pleasure he gave me, the way he made me feel, that didn’t go away. When he came back later with dinner, he just gave me my meal but he didn’t stay to watch me eat. Another guard came later to collect the empty tray.

And so Logan comes to me in my dreams. He touches me, kisses me, slides his rough hands down my smooth skin and makes me feel things I can’t guess. When I wake up with a start, I can’t shake Logan from my mind.

He drops off breakfast, but again he doesn’t stay, and again another guard picks up the tray. I spend all morning reading, but I keep finding myself glancing up at the window, wondering what time it is.

I realize that I’m anxious to see him. I want him to come and stay. He mentioned some game we might play, and I want to know what that game is.

Maybe it’s sick and strange, but I want to play. If the game makes me feel half as good as the last one did, I’ll willingly do whatever he asks. I want him to tell me more secrets about himself, but more than that, I want to tell him more secrets. I want to open up to him in ways I’ve never opened up to anyone.

Maybe I feel safe because so far he has protected me. Or maybe it’s because I feel like we have some things in common. I don’t really know what it is, but I find myself drawn toward him more powerfully with every passing day.

I’m impatient for him. The sun is high in the sky and I know it’s lunchtime. I don’t care about the food, though. I just want Logan to come and talk to me. I want him to explain this game. I’m wet already just imagining what we might do this time, and although that should freak me out, it doesn’t.

I’m practically squirming on my bed with impatience by the time I hear footsteps outside of my door. There’s a pause and then slowly the cell opens up.

One of the other guards steps inside. He gives me a look and then places the tray down on the floor. Without another word, he turns and leaves.

It’s my lunch. I stare at the tray for a second, confused. Logan never sends people in to give me my food. He always does it himself.