The Billion Dollar Debt

7

© 2015 NightMareLux. All Rights Reserved.

With a heavy heart (and heavy chains around my ankles and wrists) I'm able to admit that I might run the risk of having a mild (severe) case of Stockholm Syndrome.

Although I feel my blood boil at the sight of Vincent, I almost can't help but melt like a stick of butter on a sizzling pan when he does the simple things like put socks on my feet when I feel cold or put my hair in a loose braid when it's about to mask my face entirely.

Of course, all of these things are done when I'm asleep. I think even he himself is a bit cautious of touching me when I'm conscious, which might be because of what I did the next morning when he returned from his nightly activities.

Vincent didn't seem drunk, in fact he looked just barely intoxicated- barely. The only huge difference was the way he looked at me. Before, it was nothing but a cold stare that sent shivers down my spine, the feeling you get when your 6th sense gets alerted about something creepy but your mind can't figure out what the danger is. But his stare yesterday morning was far from cold. He looked at me with unadulterated lust, as if I was the true Aphrodite. In response, I wrapped my chain around his ankles and tripped him so his sober self would land on the bed and sleep soundly- without any attempts to grab at me.

Of course I could never be that to him- his Aphrodite. Not truly. He only saw me as a prized possession or bait for his enemies. I wasn't even sure if I was his Persephone, he didn't exactly lavish me with precious jewels, the only bargain he kept up was the imprisonment one. There were days when I felt the prickling urge to wrap the chain around his neck when he laid sleeping next to me and knock him into unconsciousness, take his phone, and call for help. But, of course, he's a cunning man- too sly for his own good. He leaves everything out of the room: out of my reach. I really loathed his habits of foiling my plans.

"Adelaide, I've brought breakfast."

My hazel eyes narrowed. 

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

Silver eyes which I once saw as the reflecting glint of the armor that belonged to my knight in shining armor now was seen as the glowing Stygian iron that thrived in the Underworld.

Fresh cream with strawberries and mangoes with peach yogurt. All things that could be eaten either by hand or with a spoon. He was careful not to give me anything with a knife or fork. Although I'm not a violent person at heart, Vincent certainly had enough experience with keeping prisoners to know what was going on in my mind.

I sat in the corner of the bed, pressed as far back into the pillows as possible to avoid being unnecessarily into his vicinity. He swirled the strawberry in the cream, offering it up to me. I knew better than to try to take it from his hands. The first time I did that, he locked my wrists in one hand and left me with no choice but to let him...hand feed me.

The thought made the contents of my stomach curdle. He was treating me as if I was a challenged pet. 

He held it up to my lips but I turned my head, the cream rubbing off on my cheek. Vincent sighed, then skimmed his thumb across the skin, popping it into his mouth. "You can't give me the silent treatment forever, Adelaide."

My eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Try me.

I looked back just as he bit into the strawberry, the pink juice staining his pale lips. My heart slammed against my rib cage when I realized what he was planning on doing. Lunging for my neck, Vincent's finger curled into a tight fist at the nape of my neck, tilting my head up by his grip on my dark brown hair. He slid his mouth over mine, coaxing me to open my lips for his talented tongue.