Ransom - Chapter 3 by Erica Sutherhome
posted by Adam Scull
Triana awoke in
the darkness. She was bound and
gagged. She was lying on a mattress of
some kind. It was clean, but still a bit
musty. Her clothes felt different as if
she’d been changed. She shuddered at the
thought that her captor might have taken her clothes off and dressed her in
something other than her pajamas. Why
bother with that? It didn’t make sense.
Triana heard
footsteps nearby, but couldn’t tell what direction they came from.
She was in an
unfamiliar place, a cold and loathing place.
There was no other way to describe the ease in which it crept into her
veins, into her tissues and bones, obliterating all thought of escape or all thought
of further happiness. It was probably a
basement or cellar, but she wasn’t sure.
There was no other means to explain the icy blackness of night within
the room and the shadows that crept toward her when there was a sporadic flash
of light.
And there wasn’t
a way out. It was fairly obvious. She not only could hardly move from where she
was, there was no clear escape route.
Her heart
slammed in her chest when she heard a door creak open. Footsteps came close, then light spilled into
the room like someone had just flipped a switch. Her eyes burned, dimmed at first, then she
got used to it. It was a simple room,
metal walls, a mattress and little else.
She had been right about not finding an escape. If she had tried, it would only have resulted
in pain and the wrenching ache of a heart longing for a warm hand in the dark.
As her eyes
adjusted to the light, she saw a shape, a figure. Her kidnapper?
Suddenly, she
saw him. He was not what she expected at
all. He had short, curly black hair and
dark eyes. He was tall and well-built,
but not scary. He seemed uncertain, not
at all the way someone should have been if they kidnapped you.
He stepped
closer to her. He gave her a small
smile. He was very attractive. The force of him hit her in the stomach, a
clenching of her gut, not in disgust but awareness. She hadn’t felt that before.
“How are you,
Triana?”
She wet her dry
lips, couldn’t make out the words for being gagged. She shook her head.
“Let me help
you.” He bent over to remove the gag.
Then, he untied her bonds.
She coughed,
then watched him as he stepped away.
“Triana. That’s an unusual name. It’s pretty, but strange. Who named you? Your mother?”
She nodded,
still unable to form words.
“She must have
been something.”
Her eyes narrowed. How did he know of her mother? “She’s not dead.”
“Did I say
that?”
She shook her
head. She stood up slowly. It took awhile for the numbness to go out of
her feet, for the painful tingles in her extremities to creep away.
“But, I suspect
she’s not around either.”
She didn’t
answer, just kept watching him. She
crossed her arms. When he didn’t say
anything else, she began, “Why am I here?”
He did not
reply, just watched her with the corner of his mouth lifting in a mock
smile.
“What do you want?”
Silence again.
Unease crept
inside her. “Who are you?” she demanded
with her chin tilted up at him in stubborn repose.
“If I divulged
that information, there would be no mystery left.”
She stamped her
foot in a childlike manner. “Why am I
here?” she tried again.
“To gain
someone’s undivided attention, my love.”
She loathed his
method of patronizing candor. “I am not
your love, damn you!” When his face
remained impassive, she asked softly, “For ransom?”
“Perhaps.” He approached her stealthily. “You ask too many questions, my dear. Yet it is said that an inquisitive mind is a
healthy one. Maybe it is not such a
bother. Still, I wonder if you are
curious or only full of nervous energy.
Do you even know which?”
His hand rested
on her collarbone and gently caressed her neck, tracing every arched
contour. She shivered beneath his touch
and her lips began to tremble. She felt
her nipples harden instantly and suddenly she was spent with her response to
this man. Honestly, she thought, he
should be struck to the bone for being so damned attractive.
Afraid of how
she was responding, she shoved his hand off.
“Don’t touch me.”
He nodded. “Very well.”
As if asking
would do a bit of good when she was his captive. She wasn’t naïve. She knew how these situations went
sometimes. Rape would be common, she
imagined.
She wet her lips
again. “Will you tell me why I was
taken?”
He shook his
head.
“I can’t not
know!” she cried.
“Don’t bother
yourself with it, dear.”
“Don’t tell me
how to feel.”
He smiled at that,
but she had no idea why.
****
Lance didn’t
have a clue why he should be so amused by the girl’s spunk, but he was. He had to play the part here or she would
suspect he was not who he claimed.
“Are you going
to tell me your name?” Her voice was
hoarse now.
He shook his
head, then went to a water cooler conveniently placed in the room. He filled a cheap paper cup and returned it
to her. She drank fast and water
dribbled down her chin. He had a strange
urge to lap it up with his tongue. Of
course, that was nonsense. She was
beautiful, but he had no right to touch her.
And the poor girl was probably scared out her wits.
But, when she
clamped a hand on his arm and whispered, “You have to tell me why I’m here,”
their bodies were too close. The desire curling
in his belly could not be ignored.
****
He kissed
her. He actually kissed her. Stunned into submission, Triana felt him
memorize her mouth with his lips before dipping his tongue inside. He tasted too good, and the trembling inside
of her did not cease. His arms when she
touched him tightened, and as he drew her up against his chest, she had the
strongest urge to let him make love to her.
Reason crept in, however, and she fought the strange desire.
“No!” she cried,
turning her head aside. “How dare you.”
His eyes
narrowed. “You were a willing
participant.”
She had to
remind herself that he was the enemy and she the captive. “I do not want you!”
He cocked a
disbelieving brow at her. “You are
young, I’ll grant you that. But you are denying
what you want. Listen to yourself,
Triana. Listen to your heart. Then listen to what your body needs.”
Her heart said
to back away, to demand that she be returned to her safe haven at once. Her body, however, responded to only
him. She felt her will bending as his
arms pulled her closer to the wall of his chest. When his lips raced over hers, she lost the
strength in her knees and quickly felt that willpower fall away like rose
petals. “Please, I cannot want you,” she
murmured to no one in particular.
“Attraction is a
strange power, my love…”
Surely it was
for she had no fight left in her when he was around.
After a few
moments of drowning in his kisses, he released her and left the room, slamming
the door behind him. She sank on shaky
knees to the mattress. Dear God. What was the matter with her? She had made out with her captor. Surely that was either the evidence of a long
repressed girl or a slut.
Still shaken,
she moved to a more comfortable position on the cot. She put her head in her hands. So she was attracted to her captor. That did not have to mean anything. Of course, it didn’t. That probably happened all the time. If other women could fight it, so could
she. She would fight this undeniable
desire. She would fight it or
perish. For she’d rather give up her
life than willingly submit to the person who placed her in danger.
She forced
herself to recall the kidnapping, how powerless she’d felt when he’d held her
down on the floor before she’d blacked out.
The anger stirred in her belly, and it was refreshing, even
welcome. Yes, she would fight this.
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