Beloved

Chapter Seven

KRISTEN'S P.O.V.

The sounds of the television quickly became background noise. Sarah's focus was located on the screen, which showed a loud sitcom. The situation seemed ridiculously unreal. Here I was, watching television with a friend of my kidnapper. Shouldn't I be running, thrashing around, demanding to be let go?

I glanced at the radio, which displayed the time. He had been gone for over thirty minutes, and my heart jumped in anticipation. Why was I excited for him to come back? My mind flowed back to him holding me in his lap, begging me to stop crying. I hated to admit it, but I loved the feeling of having him that close. Never had I felt so full of warmth. It had felt like glowing sparks had flown from my thighs.

I snapped out of it as I heard the door to the kitchen open, uncovering the one and only. Speak of the devil. His eyes went straight to me, not glancing at Sarah as he spoke.

"Sarah, we will talk later." His voice was firm as he dismisses her. I was surprised by his reserved and unpleasant announcement. Nodding at Emanual, Sarah stood up. She waved at me, leaving with a simple goodbye. The room was filled with silence, making me feel even more self-conscious. I fidgeted my fingers together. His gaze could be felt on me every few seconds.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

'What the hell do you think, psycho?!' I mentally screamed at him. He acted as if he hadn't taken me. As if I was his friend.

I didn't scream at him, though. Instead, I ended up nodding softly, not sparing him a glance.

Before I could flinch, two fingers were pressed under my chin, forcing me to look up. His face was pleasantly close to mine, brown eyes digging their way into mine. A deep growl left his throat, and I tensed. Deep down, my heart ached with want. Somehow, the animalistic growl filled me with a want of... him? Nothing made sense in my chaotic mind, disorganised thoughts raced around my mind, circling around him.

"You've cried." His voice was nothing but a strained mutter. I now realised my eyes must have been red from the tears of despair earlier. I watched Emanual silently, as he stepped away from the couch, which I was seated on. Sliding his hand through his ruffled hair, he frantically walked back and forth in front of me. As his eyes were no longer focused on me, I took the chance to take all of him in. He was, without a doubt, very strong. His shoulders broad, arms as big as my head, and a towering frame. He had to be at least six feet and around three inches. And so very beautiful.

I tensed when his face snapped to me again.

"Are you hungry? Do you need anything?" His words were rushed and his forehead creased. I looked into his beautiful deep eyes, almost too distracted by his allurement.

"No, Sarah made me some." I shook my head as I spoke.

"Do you need anything else?" He was in front of me now, his eyes wandering across my face.

"I want to go home," I stated, surprised by my declaration. I was usually not one to speak my mind, but my tongue had shaped the words before I could stop them.

"Don't say that." His booming voice left the room in a deadly silence. I jerked away from him as if he had struck me across my face. Fear started consuming me, but again, I surprised myself by speaking out.

"Why not? Why the hell are you keeping me here? If you're going to kill me, just get it fucking over with it!" Standing up, I clenched my fists and successfully raised my voice as loud as his. Maybe a bit louder. His mouth quickly shut. We both stood tall, trying to look as intimidating as possible. Although he was clearly winning, as demanding respect seemed like one of his natural talents, I did not back down.

"You don't seem to get it. You belong here, you belong with me." His voice was hard, yet sounded so gentle in my ears. I didn't like to admit it, but his words struck something in me, which only lulled me closer to liking him.

"Why do I belong here?" I was curious, even if it was possible the true answer was that he was absolutely crazy. My voice had become softer; quieter. A part of me didn't want to anger him or see him upset. I hated myself for wanting to see him happy. Wanting to see my kidnapper happy.

"I'll explain all of it later, okay? You're not ready yet." His voice had also grown softer, mirroring mine. I sighed, running my hands through my hair.

He stepped closer to me. All of the sudden, he didn't look very intimidating. His eyes were locked on mine as he continued slowly walking towards me. Each footstep he took felt like hours, as I stood like frozen to the ground. Why was I waiting for him to reach me? Why did I like this?

"I would never let you down. Trust me, il mio amoruccio." I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion at his sudden, foreign words. It sounded Italian, which matched his beautiful features and warm skin tone. His hand met my cheek, and my eyes automatically fluttered closed.

"I know all of this is confusing, but you have to trust me. Listen to your instincts; Don't you want to trust me?" A sigh of pleasure escaped my lips, as his silky smooth voice reached my ears and swirled down to my heart. Fingers softly dug into my waist and pulled me closer, letting me feel his firm body against mine. My body relaxed further as I felt his face against the crook of my neck. His soft breath hit my skin, only making me want more.

"You're so perfect." He groaned, both of his arms now wrapped around my waist. Slowly, my hands found their way to his chest. A low growl rumbled through his chest, vibrating underneath my palms. I tensed as I felt his lips press against my neck, burying my face in his shoulder.

What was happening to me?

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