“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.
It wasn’t long before her breathing slowed and its rhythm steadied. Her face relaxed and the lines of tension disappeared, making her appear younger than he originally guessed. Early twenties, probably.
Poor kid. She had no idea what had happened.
It’d been so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to wake up in a strange world. But it had all come back to him when he’d glimpsed the terror in her eyes. His gut tightened as he remembered the range of emotions that had crossed her face in a matter of minutes: confusion, fear, anger, helplessness, pain, and finally defeat.
There was only one thing worse than defeat. Accepting it.
Pulling the blanket over himself, he settled onto his side with head propped in his hand. He studied the curves of her face and the handful of freckles on her tanned cheeks. What would he do with her?
Besides impregnate her, of course.
Maybe he should explain where they were. No. She’d never believe him. The truth would only frighten her more.
Just keep your mouth shut, and do your job.
“How can I do my job,” he whispered to her, “when you’re so damn feisty?” He drummed his fingers on his head.
The other women had known their role and greeted him with open legs. Okay, so maybe one or two weren’t quite ready at first, but they always responded favorably after a little coaxing and the aphrodisiac fire.
What if this one refused? Her spirit was strong. She was a fighter. Dread surged through his veins.
He hadn’t been at stud in a year. And the year prior to that he’d only been in twice. He had to face facts. At thirty-five, he was no longer the young strapping alpha the Hyboreans wanted. Any noncompliance on the woman’s part was sure to be viewed as his failure. And failure equaled torture.
Only at his age, he doubted he’d suffer a beating. Or starvation. This time he’d be sold on the black market.
Shit. That was a death sentence.
His head fell to the pillow and he stared at the ceiling. “You bastards,” he said, keeping his voice low, “why didn’t you take her to the Yard first? I can’t afford complications at my age.”
He knew of other studs who forced themselves on the females. His stomach turned and dropped into his bowels.
You’re not an animal.
He cringed at his lie.
Not a
complete
animal, anyway. That’s why rape could never be an option.
Ever.
The breeding box was the only safe place he could act like a man. If he lost that last bit of humanity, he lost everything.
The heat of her body warmed his side. Rolling to face her again, he traced her soft lips with a gentle finger. There was only one thing to do.
“Woman,” he said. “Prepare to be seduced.”
W
aking to the dull clank of something hitting the floor, Addy opened one eye. Still naked, Max knelt by the unlit fireplace with his shoulder toward her. Two pitchers and three cereal bowls sat at his side between them. A citrus fragrance wafted to her. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then retrieved a bundle she hadn’t noticed before from beside the fireplace, opened it, and ate whatever was inside.
He had no idea she was awake. Good. Maybe she’d have a few minutes to check out her surroundings in the light and figure out how to escape.
Her gaze shifted around a room void of light fixtures and windows. Large shadows moved across bright, translucent walls. Where was she? Inside a giant, plastic milk jug?
In slow motion so Max wouldn’t detect her movements, she lifted her head off the pillow. Every sound grew louder; his crunching and sucking as he chewed, and her breathing that seemed to echo in her ears. She held her breath, listening.
From the other side of the wall came a dull clank followed by faint crackling. Rice Krispies? She cocked her head toward the sound.
“Morning.”
Her gaze shot to her captor. He hadn’t moved from his place except to turn her way and flash a crooked, sexy smile. “How you feeling?”
Let’s see: there’s confused, scared, angry, humiliated.
“Hungry?” he asked, a little too cheerful after the horrible night they shared. He pushed the larger bowl closer to her.
Holding the blanket tight around her, Addy sat up and eyed the bowl. Why hadn’t he eaten from it?
Max crouched on the floor facing her. She couldn’t stop gawking at his nakedness, fascinated how in its relaxed state it wasn’t nearly as threatening. She felt his gaze on her. He knew she was checking him out, yet he didn’t bother hiding himself. The guy had absolutely no shame.
“Go on,” he said. “Eat.”
What woman could eat with
that
staring at her? She pulled a sheet off the pillowed mattress and tossed it to him. “I don’t suppose you’d mind covering yourself.” She was parched and the words came out rough. She coughed to clear her throat but that only made it feel scratchy.
“Oh. Right.” He wrapped the blue satin around the lower half of his body. “Better?” His smile held amusement.
Why was he acting so nice this morning? Maybe he wasn’t a crazed serial killer. After all, if he hadn’t strangled her in her sleep, he probably wasn’t going to. She hoped.
He took a long drink from the pitcher, each swallow causing his Adam’s apple to bob up and down, making her uncomfortably aware of her growing thirst. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t.
“Ahh.” He wiped his mouth.
She eyed the pitcher.
“Go ahead.” He pushed it toward her. “I know you’re thirsty.”
Thirsty was an understatement. After a moment’s hesitation, Addy slowly brought the pitcher to her lips and sipped. Cold water refreshed her tongue and mouth. She drank deeply, rehydrating herself.
Max picked a pink, juicy cube from the bowl of colorful fruit and held it out to her. “Here.”
“What’s that?” Her voice still sounded horse. How was she going to ask him the million questions rattling around in her brain if she could barely talk?
“Food. Try it.”
She took her own chunk from the bowl and sniffed it; a citrus fragrance filled her nostrils. Her stomach growled, making her realize she wasn’t just hungry. She was ravenous.
Seemingly unaffected by her snub, he popped his proffered food into his mouth, and watched her study the cube.
Heat radiated inside her hollow stomach. It cried out again for nourishment. The fruit looked harmless enough and he did eat some, so it couldn’t be poisoned. Besides, sharing a meal might make him more inclined to answer her questions.
She nibbled. Sweet nectar with a hint of spice trickled over her taste buds. Juice and saliva pooled in her mouth. She swallowed and greedily took a bigger bite. Juice dribbled down her chin. “It’s good.” She wiped her chin with her fingers. “And messy.”
He grinned, and his weird green eyes brightened with the joy of a little boy showing off a new fishing pole. “Pop the whole thing in.” He tossed another piece into his mouth.
She bit into another cube, squirting juice on him, and tried not to snicker as the pink liquid rolled down his chest into the nail marks she had left from yesterday’s attack.
He drew in a quick breath, his pain giving her a perverse satisfaction. “Nice shot.” He wiped his chest with his hand. “You might want to close your mouth before biting, next time.”
“What’s going on here, Max?”
“Nothing. Just breakfast,” he said in a sorry attempt at feigning innocence.
“You know that’s not what I meant. You said we’d talk in the morning. So talk. Where are we?”
He finished chewing before he answered. “Hyborea.”
“Where’s that?”
“I can’t exactly say where it is, but I can tell you where it’s not.”
“Okay. So where isn’t it?”
“It’s not in the USA. Here, try this. It’s my favorite.” He handed her a cracker as long and wide as a graham but with the texture of a Triscuit. “Dip it in here.” He indicated a bowl of little round black balls stuck in a heap of thick pasty stuff. Was it caviar? For breakfast?
“Eew. What the heck is that?”
“It looks gross, but tastes great. Try it.”
“No thanks.” She bit into the plain cracker. “Do you know how I got here?”
He shook his head. “What do you remember?”
“There was a forest fire. I tried escaping in the river but was caught in the rapids. I was getting banged up on the rocks. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was a huge shadow over me. Then I woke up here.”
“Sounds like the Hyboreans pulled you from the rapids.”
“Are the Hyboreans a cult?”
Max choked on his cracker. He covered his mouth and coughed. “Something like that.” He coughed again. “More biscuits?” He offered another Triscuit-thingy.
“Are the Hyboreans out there, now?” She pointed to the wall.
He nodded.
“What are they doing?”
“Feeding us breakfast.”
“Knock it off,” she said with more anger than she intended to show. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “I want answers. Real answers.”
He stopped eating and looked her square in the eye. He dropped his shoulders slightly and leaned toward her. “If I explain everything, do you promise not to flip out?”
She nodded slowly, unsure if she’d be able to keep that promise.
“Okay. The Hyboreans want babies. They take people, put them naked in a room together and let Mother Nature take her course. There is no escaping. Ever. If you do what they want, you’ll survive. If you piss them off, you won’t.” He spoke as if he were explaining the rules of a card game.
Addy scooped another cube of fruit from the bowl and ate it, hoping this basic life function would ground her in reality. She had to keep her wits in order to figure out where she was and how to escape. “So what do the Hyboreans do with the babies?” She really didn’t want to know but had to ask.
“Sell them.”
“This is a baby ring? You mean instead of kidnapping newborns, they enslave adults to make the babies for them? Oh my God.”
She couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea. It was so crazy and disgusting—like that fertility doctor who gave his patients his own sperm in order to save money. “People are sick,” she spat the words in disgust.
“Oh my God,” she said again, covering her mouth. The weight of the conversation finally hit her full force. This wasn’t some campfire ghost story. This was real.
She’d been kidnapped. By a baby-selling cult!
Tears prickled behind her eyes. Her throat constricted. Her breathing sped up. She was a Forest Service cop. A tree cop. She wasn’t experienced in handling human trafficking. This was totally out of her jurisdiction. “There really is no escaping, is there?”
The sudden sadness in his eyes said it all. She was trapped here, probably until she died. Or until they killed her.
She’d never be set free. The cult couldn’t risk anyone telling the FBI or the United Nations or whatever organization one informed about international kidnapping and slavery. Her body tingled with a cold numbness. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked. She’d never again see her friends, her father, her home.
Shaking from the swelling rage bubbling inside, she wanted to scream. She wanted to pound on the wall. She wanted to demand they release her. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stand that pain they’d shot through her yesterday. And she couldn’t stand her vulnerability. A good cop knew how to manage her emotions under stress. So she just sat there, sitting and rocking and wondering how this had happened.
Dazed, she reached for more food, hoping it might fill the hollowness inside. Max snatched the bowl away and she flinched.
“Lesson number two: don’t eat all your food at once, in case they forget to feed you.”
She felt her eyes widen. She wanted to ask if that happened often, but was too scared to hear the answer. Instead, she asked, “What’s lesson number one?”
He reached for her, hooked a finger around her choker and drew her to him. His piercing cat eyes, inches away from hers, held a stern seriousness that penetrated her body and stopped her heart. This lesson was crucial.
“Don’t piss off the Hyboreans.”
L
etting go of the chain, Max sat back on his heels, wanting to punch himself for his stupidity. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. He just wanted her to understand the danger. She had started to warm up to him, even trusted him enough to eat the food he gave her. And now he’d scared her again.
Not the best way to seduce a woman.
Dammit. He didn’t have much time to begin with, and now he’d waste more by starting over.
“I...um...I need a bathroom,” she said, bringing him out of his thoughts.
He pointed to the corner.
“Nuh-uh. No way. I need a real bathroom, not a flowerpot.”
Looking at the toilet, he realized she was right. Not only was it shaped like a giant flowerpot, but it was also that same ugly orange color. After fifteen years, he’d forgotten how different—how strange—everything looked. Used to it, he rarely thought about home.
Who was he kidding? He never thought about home. Until now.
Damn woman.
He’d spent too long forgetting that life, yet he knew the only way to win her trust was to take her mind off this place, this situation.
“You’re right. It does look like a flowerpot. Unfortunately, that’s the only real bathroom we have.”
* * *
Even though he stood at the opposite corner facing the wall, Addy shielded her body with a sheet. She sat with a painful bladder ready to burst, but it was no use.
“I can’t go with you standing there.”
“Since I can’t leave, how about I cover my ears and whistle?”
“That might work.”
When he covered his ears, she couldn’t help notice those ripped, bronzed shoulders. If the guy had been a sex slave for fifteen years, how come he was so muscular? And tanned? Did the Hyboreans let them outside?
Whistling the beginning of “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses, he swayed his head and hips, and his satin sheet rocked with him. He was awfully happy and relaxed for being a sex slave. Poor guy. Apparently he’d accepted this horrible existence.