Agent 7. The Shadows: Part I

▪️◼️Chapter Seven◼️▪️

My legs are trembling uncontrollably beneath me and my skin is feverish by the time I step before my captor.

He snags the bottom of my flimsy shirt right at the apex between my legs and tugs me closer.

Oh no...

My lungs fight to release a squeal but I pinch my eyes and mouth shut, holding it in, as I mentally guard myself against his looming touch.

I was wrong before in the bathroom, just because I've gone through this with Vladimir doesn't make it any easier with this man. In my head I was sure it would be much like all the other times, but it's not. Instead, it feels like the first time all over again. Which is much, much worse!

An agonizing amount of minutes seem to pass by, but the unwelcome pressure of his hands on my body never comes.

"Open your eyes, Lenkov."

My heart gives way, falling to the pit of my stomach when his demanding voice cracks through my defenses.

He wants me to watch.

My lips quiver as their corners dip into a frown, of course he does. Not only is the nightmare continuing but I'm being forced to watch it unravel.

I hiss out a breath before flicking my eyes back open, loathing the man for making me both a spectacle and an audience. I also hate that he's dragging it out.

My mind is begging for him to begin. The suspense is wreaking havoc on my mental stability.

I'm desperate for him to put his hands on me, his mouth. For him to take what he wants until he's satiated and tired of me. Because the sooner he starts, the sooner this will all be over.

I drop my eyes to his but his attention is on my upper thighs, clearly finding my skin in that area appealing.

I'll never understand men like him, they always find one part of a woman to become enthralled with more than the rest. Ears, hands, feet. It's all so very odd and obsessive.

The silence in the room is deafening as he uses two fingers to spread my legs apart tapping on the inside of each leg once, my left then right.

Begrudgingly I do as he wants.

Everything is naked and at his mercy, apart from my silk panties which are hardly hidden beneath the meager piece of clothing, he gave me.

My muscles tense when his calloused fingers drag down the inside of my legs. Their tips circle where the black and blue bruises are on full display now that my legs are fully bare.

It's a whisper of a touch. I can feel him everywhere and nowhere all at once.

With my hands dangling loosely at my sides, I study his features. He has smooth skin the color of sand and high prominent cheekbones. I notice the blood-red of his lips press together when deep in thought.

He's surprisingly expressive for how cold and monotonous he is. Negative expressions mostly but expressive nonetheless.

A shadow falls across his already darkened features as he lifts his head to find mine titled down toward his.

"These bruises, did I give them to you?" He rasps.

My head reels back, chin dipping to my chest, stunned by the question. It takes a moment to form an answer, completely taken off guard by the brief taste of concern I hear in the bitter sound of his voice. Why does he care if he's the one who gave them to me or not?

I try to answer but my mouth is dry from the nerves and my tongue grates like sandpaper against its roof when I swallow.

I shake my head no, "Vladimir." I manage.

My voice is equally as hoarse as his and sounds gritty and weak to my ears.

He nods once at my answer and straightens his spine, pulling away from me.

"I have work to do." He says briskly before tipping his head back and finishing off his whiskey.

The thick bulge of his Adam's apple protrudes with the generous swallow. After he's finished, he turns away from me completely, tucking his legs under the hotel's table.

It feels like a dismissal but I'm not for certain. I've never been dismissed without at least being touched first. I remain in place unsure of what to do. I watch him in earnest as he sets down the now-empty glass and begins to work on his computer subsequently ignoring me.

"Go to bed, Alina." He mutters with an increased lack of interest as his fingers clack away at his keyboard. His eyes don't even lift from the screen as he addresses me.

I turn quickly and do as he says before he can change his mind. I swivel around and inch towards the bed. The farther away from him that I can get, the better.

The lights of the suite are all turned off apart from a small lamp in the corner behind my kidnapper that's illuminating my steps, the laptop sitting in front of him shines on his rigid outline, and a glowing clock on the nightstand near the bed. It reads twelve thirty-two AM.

My body nags with exhaustion as I climb onto the bed unsure of where to settle. The plush comforter is a soft caress against my aching limbs. I end up on the edge furthest away from the man. I lean my back against a pillow that's shoved up against the headboard and bring my knees to my chin.

I wrap my arms around my legs for an extra sense of security and I set my chin atop my kneecaps as I fight to get a handle on my nerves and to stay awake.

I'm drained of all energy. The adrenaline has waned, leaving my muscles aching and my eyelids heavy in search of rest and recovery.

I can't fall asleep. If I do I will be left unguarded and unaware of my surroundings. I will be an easy target for the man to finally have his way with me. My unconscious state will give him an edge I won't be able to trump. I have to fight it.

I watch my kidnapper as he works, waiting for the moment he's ready to take advantage of my nearly naked form.

I study his movements, watching his fingers lift and press rhythmically against the keys and the way his eyes hardly blink. Whatever he's doing must have something to do with this evening and I'm curious in what ways. Is he talking to someone? He said he had work to do. Is this a job? Was he hired to kill Vladimir and to go to the party or is he simply working to cover his tracks? No matter what, he seems highly trained and skilled. As if this isn't his first time.

After a time, my eyes begin to blur and his hulking body becomes like water in the ocean. I can barely make him out but he's there in the distance. I'm aware that my mind is drifting in and out of consciousness and lucid dreams but I manage to hold fast against the sleep creeping into my body from the inside out.

My head snaps up as my kidnapper's voice rumbles through the silence like a bomb detonating.

"For fucks sake, Alina." My brows furrow as my head snaps up. His body blinks back into focus. I meet his hardened gaze with a wary glance of my own. "I can't concentrate when you stare at me like that. I meant what I said. I won't hurt you. Now go to sleep." He turns back to the computer, dismissing me once again.

As if his voice is a drug that washes over me, my head becomes a heavy weight I can no longer bear and my eyelids find themselves too feeble to keep open. I lament, so physically weak I can no longer fight off the sleep that is hungering to devour me.

I can only hope he's true to his word.