Set Me Free

Stormy Nights

Sofia

The cabin is dark—as though it is nighttime, even though I know it is just late afternoon. I curl deeper into my pile of blankets, shivering in the clammy cold. Brax wasn't kidding when he said the power would go out. Though being on the run in the woods is something I am begrudgingly used to, it is not something I wish to return to. Maybe I am spoiled.

A particularly loud clap of thunder has me burrowing deeper as I cover my ears and whimper. The shutters on the cabin slam against the outer walls, the whole frame creaks and groans in the wind, and the trees high above us threaten to snap any second under such strain. He's gone—left me alone in his room with one candle that went out minutes after he stomped out, muttering curses.

I'm not sure what he went to fix, but something tells me he knows how to fix everything. Without power—without even a fire in the hearth of the living room I caught a glimpse of—I will freeze to death. If something happens to him and he never returns, I will starve, chained here to the floor.

And there is the beginning of my inspiration. Joshua always told me I was too smart—wicked smart, because if I wanted something, even as a child I was pretty damn good at manipulating our parents or our nanny until I got it. It was their fault for falling for it, though, so I can't bring myself to feel guilty now.

The front door slams open, and with it comes a gust of wind. I bury my head under the blankets as lightning flashes through the inky cabin. Not even a second after, thunder answers. I don't hear his heavy boots thudding closer, but the strike of a match and his subsequent chuckle tells me he's here.

"Little fiery angel, scared of a fuckin' windstorm," he chuckles again. I glare at the silvery chains around my wrists at his jest.

"Fuck off," I growl, unable to stem my temper anymore. My head feeling better, keeping my tongue behind my teeth will be difficult.

"Watch it, girly. I like yer fire, but I won't stand for disrespect."

I roll my eyes to the quilted pattern, lit by the soft glow of the candle. I could hear the creak and groan of his bed as he sat, could hear the thump of his heavy black boots as he shed them. And then, of course, there was the slamming of more shutters and the bright flash of lighting and the ever-present thunder.

Cocooned in my little shell of blankets, I don't see or hear him approach, but I squeak and thrash as he hefts me up into his arms, unlocking my chains, letting them slither to the floor in a silver pile. Chin wobbling, I peek up at him, wondering if he is going to punish me again. He just stares at me for a moment, frowning before he shakes his head.

"Don't got an oven, don't got a heater. Gonna be picky with me?"

I shake my head quickly. His grasp on me tightens as he nods, his chest moist and bare and cold for once. I glance down, quickly regretting it. He's naked as can be once more. He chuckles, walking us out into the darkness of his cabin, around the corner to the living room where a warm fire blazes. He plops me on the couch.

He fumbles around, finding another set of chains. Testing their strength with a tug, he seems satisfied as he cuffs me once more. He stands tall, looking around for a moment before he thuds back to his room and reappears with all the blankets and pillows. He dumps them on me, burying me as another clap of thunder shakes the cabin.

"Fuckin' tired, girly," he says with a yawn, sinking down next to me on the couch, not caring in the slightest that he's nude. I push the blankets and pillows aside, feeling like a little kid. He's leaned back, one hand resting on his thickly muscled thigh, the other across the back of the couch, his eyes closed in contentment.