*Above is Liam Ellison.*
CHAPTER-3
UH-OH
Like Christian had asked I hadn't told anyone about our shoot. Not even Liam. I didn't know why but I was nervous about this shoot with him. He was so intimidating and his proximity made me so uncomfortable—in a way I shouldn't be feeling good—I somehow feel I shouldn't be doing this.
But he only asked for half an hour. And he said he'd pay double of what I charged. I mean seriously, what could go wrong? He just wanted some privacy, that's it. And he didn't look like a serial killer either. Not that I know how serial killers looked in real life, but Christian just seemed a little...aloof. With the way he was staring at me, like he was trying to figure me out or trying to get into my head. Like he was anticipating my next move.
But whatever, I had said yes now so I had to go. Ten minutes before Arnold showed up, I had already checked that I had my cell with me and pepper spray—just in case—and went to the car waiting for me.
Like last time, the same gray Mercedes was waiting for me with Arnold standing with a smile. He looked a little wary as he gave me little nod. "Miss Johnson."
"Call me Stella, Arnold. How are you?" I asked.
He smiled nervously. "I'm very well. I hope you're doing okay, too?"
I beamed. "Perfect."
"Please," he motioned me to sit in as he opened the back door for me. Before I settled in, I made sure to peep inside to check if Christian was lingering in the corner like last time or not.
He wasn't.
I was alone.
"Mr. Pierce would meet you at the location." Arnold said.
I nodded as I settled in. I kept my camera on the backseat as Arnold helped me with the tripod. And then off we went. I fidgeted with the hem of my dress as I stared outside.
"You look nervous, Stella." Arnold said.
Was I that transparent?
"No—" I croaked so I cleared my throat, "No, I'm fine."
He handed me a bottle but kept his eyes on the road. "Would you like to have some water?"
I licked my dry lips as I took the bottle. "Thank you."
I took big gulps of water. I didn't know I was that thirsty until I had finished half of it.
"How long would it take to reach there?" I asked Arnold. He glanced back at me through the rear mirror. "Not long. It's just a thirty minutes drive from here."
I nodded. "Where are we going, by the way?"
He pressed his lips and took his eyes off me. "You'll see."
Hmm. Suspense.
I was sure Arnold wasn't in the mood of telling me the location so I went back to watch the buildings disappearing behind me as we drove.
That was when I felt it.
Suddenly my blood went hot. My vision started to blacken. I swayed a little as I caught my head in my palm.
"Arnold?"
He didn't say anything. Everything blurred and I blinked several times to adjust my vision but nothing happened. I swayed again and my body went hot.
"Arnold?" I tried again.
"Don't worry, Stella. Everything is fine."
I heard him before I fell on the backseat and everything went dark.
*****
Soft sheets. I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow. But something was off. The pillow smelled different than usual. Instead of my shampoo, it had the scent of woods and sandalwood and something sophisticated.
I opened my eyes and sat up. Him. The pillow smelled like him. The sheet fell off me, and I realized my skin was bare. Panic hit me like a blow to the chest. I yanked the sheet back into place and peered around into the gloom.
"You're awake." His deep voice slithered around me, but I couldn't see him.
"What is happening? Where am I?"
"Our room." He was sitting somewhere off to my right.
Our room?
"Did you take my clothes off?"
"Yes."
I cringed and eased toward the edge of the bed opposite him. Panic blared in my ears, and everything seemed to go cold. I'd awoken naked in his bed. What had he done to me while I was out? I did a mental check, and my body didn't feel any different.
"Did you—" I choked on my own question.
"What?" Had his voice moved closer?
I squeezed my thighs together, searching for any pang of pain. There was none.
I caught movement in the darkness. He was walking around the bed toward me.
Scurrying back, I hit the headboard and clutched the sheet to me. "What did you do to me?" I tried to inject hatred into my voice, but it still shook.
"You mean, did I rape you?" He came into view, his body illuminated by a faint light through a door at his back.
"Did you?"
He put a knee on the bed. "No."
"Let me go." I wanted to look away from him but was too afraid to let him out of my sight.
"No." He moved closer, the wide bed shifting under his weight.
I bolted away from him, but I didn't even set foot on the floor before he grabbed my ankle and yanked me back. A scream ripped from my lungs as he covered me with his body.
"Shh." He clapped a hand over my mouth. "No one can hear you anyway." His thick c*ck pressed into my thigh, but he made no other move, just restrained me as fear thundered through my being. He pulled his palm away and stared down at me. "That's better."
My eyes burned as tears welled. "Why are you doing this?"
He cocked his to the side, almost surprised that he had to tell me. "Because you're mine."
"I'm not yours." My voice cracked.
"Yes, you are. You always have been. I know you feel it, too."
A tear rolled down my cheek. "You set this whole thing up."
"Guilty." He leaned forward and licked my tear. "You're even beautiful when you cry."
A switch flipped inside me, disbelief turning into resistance. I launched against him. My free hand struck harmlessly against his arm as I kicked and squirmed. A choked roar escaped my throat as I hit him with everything I had.
"Keep going." He whispered in my ear.
Another roar and I arched my back, going wild to try and escape. I twisted and slammed my knee into his. My nails raked across his scalp, and I seized his hair in my hand. Yanking with all my might, I pulled his mouth away from my ear and head-butted his nose.
"Fuck, this is fun."
"Stop!" I shoved him, but he was unmoving.
"You're mine. Your violence, your anger—all mine."
My head hurt a little by hitting him. He stared into my panicked eyes. "Calm down."
"I'm not yours." I repeated.
"You'll see." The certainty in his words chilled me. "We're bound, you and me. You've felt it. I could see it in your eyes when we first met, and when I visited you again next day. Every time you're near me, you give yourself away."
"No." I burned with shame that some part of his words rang true. But that was before he'd drugged and kidnapped me. Those embers were now dark and cold. "You can't keep me here."
"I can. You haven't noticed yet, but you're wearing an accessory. An anklet with a tracker. If you take it off, I'll know. If you try to leave the house, I'll know. There are over three-hundred acres around the house. You won't get far before I catch you and bring you back here, where you belong. You can't escape. There are no phones, no internet, no one who will help you."
Every word that left his lips sent a shard of ice tearing through my heart. "You're a monster."
"I know."
"Someone will find me."
He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing mine. "Someone already has."
"What are you going to do to me?" I swallowed hard, my mouth dry.
"Keep you safe. Keep you close. Make you mine."
My chin trembled. "Kill me?"
"What?" He seemed genuinely surprised by the thought. "You think I'd kill you?"
"How could I not?" I bit the inside of my cheek. Was he just toying with me again?
"I never want to hurt you." He shook his head. "I'll kill anyone who does."
"You're deranged."
He smirked, the quirk of his lips cruel. "You aren't the first to call me that, though I prefer high-functioning psychopath."
I bucked from him but he was like a mountain. "You can't keep me here. I'm not a pet!"
"No." He paused, his eyes searching my face. "Not a pet. But you're mine. I can feel it." He sat back and took my hand in his, pressing it over his heart. "In here. Where there's nothing. When I saw you, something happened. And now I can feel, but only for you."
Tears slid down my temples and pooled in my ears. "But don't you feel how wrong this is?"
"No." He squeezed my hand. "This is the only thing I've ever done that feels right."
The conviction in his words slowed my racing mind. "How long do you intend to keep me here?"
"Forever."
"What?" Horror ripped through me, tearing up my thoughts and skirting along my dreams like a rusty razor blade.
"You were meant for me. Don't you understand?"
I shook my head violently. "No! I already have someone. I'm engaged. Look—" I went to show him my ring but my finger was naked. I stared up at him with teary eyes. "Where's my ring?"
His eyes darkened. "You won't be needing it anymore."
"No! I want my ring. It's mine!"
"If you want a ring, I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you need." He said simply.
"I want Liam's ring. He is—"
Suddenly he was on me again. "You are not to say his name again. My name is the only name you're allowed to take unless necessary. He is nothing to you. Forget him."
I snarled. "Forget him? I can't forget him!"
"Everyone's memories fade. Yours will eventually, too. After few months it would be like he didn't even exist to you."
I let out a sardonic laugh. "If it's that's easy to forget someone then why don't you forget me?"
He blinked. "I can't. I have a superior memory."
"Someone has a high opinion of himself."
That earned me an unreadable look. "I'm not bragging. I have hyperthymesia, or HSAM. Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory."
I paused. That, I hadn't expected. "You have a photographic memory?"
"No, they're different. People with photographic memory recall details from a scene they've observed for a short time. People with HSAM remember almost everything about their life. Every conversation, every detail, every emotion." Christian's blue eyes morphed into topaz, dark and haunted. "Whether or not they want to."
Oh, God.
I shook my head and softened my voice a little. "You can't keep me here like a prisoner, Christian."
He looked at me almost with an adoring look. "I have no intention of keeping you here like a pet or a prisoner. I am very much opposed to the idea of keeping you restrained. Once you accept the fact that you're mine then, I, myself would take you anywhere in this world you want. You can even go on your own. I would never stop you from living your life freely as long as I know that you'd come back to me. Always me."
"Christian, but—"
"There is no way out of this room except my way." He moved off me and lay down on the bed, his body languid, like a predator at rest. "The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be."
I sat up and turned away from him. Though tears blurred my vision, my eyes had become accustomed to the gloom. Several wide windows lined one side of the room. We were on what looked like the second floor of a grand home. The moonless night beyond was dark, and I couldn't see anything except dense forest in the distance. The bed was large, each corner topped with a carved wooden poster. A faint light filtered into the room from an adjacent bathroom. Two other doors in the room were closed, and undoubtedly locked.
The sleek décor had a masculine edge to it that mixed with the antique furniture to give an opulent air. I didn't care about his sense of style. What can I use as a weapon?
"Get back under the covers. The nights get cold out here in the foothills." I could feel his eyes on me.
"Though I'm quite enjoying the view."
"Where are my clothes?"
"Gone."
I stared at the closed doors, my thoughts still fighting with the reality of my situation. "I have to go."
"You aren't going anywhere. Every night we're together, you will sleep with me. And you'll be naked. If I, for some unfortunate reason, aren't available, you will sleep in our bed alone until I return." He patted the mattress.
Everything in me told me to run, but there was nowhere to go.
"I can make you comply, if that's what you want." His dark chuckle pelted me like sleet. "I'd rather enjoy that, actually."
"No." Goose bumps raced along my skin as I crawled under the blankets and scooted to the far edge of the bed. None of it seemed real. My mind tried to make sense of it, but it was as if I were trying to complete a puzzle while the pieces kept disintegrating in my fingers. I shook, my body revolting against its sudden captivity.
"You can come closer." His low voice rumbled over me.
"No." Not a chance.
He sighed. "This doesn't have to be unpleasant for you."
I glanced at him over my shoulder. "Are you kidding?"
"No." He rose on an elbow, the edge of the sheet hovering along his abs. I didn't know when he had taken his shirt off. "I know you find me attractive."
I turned away and rested my head on my folded hands. "I did. Now? Not so much."
"That's not something that just disappears."
"It does when you kidnap someone." My eyes still searched in vain for some sort of weapon.
"Think of it as more of an elopement."
"Marriage?" I clenched my eyes shut, trying to clear them of useless tears.
"No." He shifted toward me, his body heat buffeting my back. "Not yet, anyway." He rested his hand on my shoulder, but I rolled away from him, perilously close to falling to the floor.
"I told you I'd never hurt you. I don't want to take anything from you that you aren't ready to give." As if proving his words, he edged away from me, his warmth fading.
"What if I'm never ready to give you a damn thing?"
"You will be." His smug satisfaction rankled.
"You so sure?"
"Yes. You and me. The end." He pulled the blanket up and tucked it around my shoulder. "You'll see."
I didn't respond, just stared into the murky room.
"And one day, sooner than you think"—his voice dropped—"you'll give me everything."
*********
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