Chasing Freedom

XXIX

Someone was watching her.

Mira felt it on the edge of her senses, trickling in like an itch that made her skin crawl. Wherever she was felt like nowhere familiar. Without opening her eyes, she knew that. The smell, for one, was a tip off. A thick rich incense was burning like smog in the air.

Her body was aching all over. The worst was the ache in her shoulders, her arms contorted at an unforgiving angle. Mira knew that meant one thing and it sent a new thread of fear through her. She rubbed her wrists together, barely perceptibly. He hands were tied with something soft, silk if she had to guess, not handcuffs like she would have expected.

Where the hell was she? She needed to figure it out as soon as possible and start planning her escape route. The last thing she recalled—

"Oh, my darling, open your eyes," came the soft lilting croon.

Despite all self-preservation instincts, her breath hitched audibly.

"I know you're awake, my darling." That was louder. Closer. A hand that stroked through her hair. "Your guardians failed you, letting you out unprotected at such a dangerous time. Don't worry, because I'll take care of you now. I'll cherish you, just like you deserve."

Mira tried to disconnect from the fear, pretending she was elsewhere.

Sometimes, she woke to find Myles watching her or touching her, his expression pinched in concentration, like he was mapping out the lines of her face, half mesmerised. The first time, Mira had told him to stop, more of a jerk reaction when she'd woken up with a start. Which had been pointless in the end, given Myles woke well before she did. When they shared the same bed more often than not, it kept happening. Eventually, Mira began to find it comforting. She felt safe, knowing he was there, overbearing as ever.

Now, in a scenario so similar, he skin was crawling. The conviction in which this fae—her kidnapper—spoke only made it worse. She imagined her wore the same fixated expression Myles did.

"Open your eyes for me, beautiful," repeated her kidnaper.

When this had happened, all those years ago, she'd been so young and defenceless, but her father had been there. Now, she was alone, reliant on only herself to find a way out of this.

Backed into a corner, Mira debated her options.

She could refuse, feign sleep for longer; at the risk of antagonising her kidnapper from sweet coaxing to anger. She'd watching him tear others limb from limb, as easily as he blinked. In a second, she knew that kind of brutally could just as easily be targeted against her.

Was there a way she could use his own apparent fixation against him? If she play along and gain his trust...

Heart in her throat, she peeled her eyes open.

The hand in her hair dropped away.

The first thing Mira noticed was the peeled, hanging, off-colour stained the timber ceiling, lit with streaks of light. She flit her gaze around, taking in the rest. The room she was held in was small, with the same rundown timber framing the space, floor included. Through a small, slitted window to the right, she could see nothing but dense trees. The space was bare, other than a small dresser in the corner.

Shifting in a—pointless—attempt to get more comfortable, she pulled her knees closer to her chest, glancing up to where her hands were bolted to the wall. The chain, she realised as she tugged, gave her no slack. Not that she had expected otherwise. Her clothes remained in place, even down to her shredded shirt.

Slowly, she turned her head, taking in the face of her captor up close.

He was crouched a metre from her, braced on his own eight for balance. He was as lean and tall as she recalled from her previous haze, the leg of his clothe pants loose-fitting. If she had to guess, he was nearing his fifties, the hint of wrinkles framing his eyes and forehead. His white-streaked hair was loose around his shoulders. As he stared at her, his brows were dipped low, mouth stretched into a lecerchous grin that was all teeth.