Little Lamb

8 ❦ playing dangerous

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The moonlight crept in through the cracks, casting jagged shadows across the walls. The room felt small, suffocating, as the weight of the day dragged me down. Helping him, the masked devil, with his precious documents had been exhausting. I only hoped I hadn't screwed it up.

I stretched out on my parents' bed, boredom sinking its claws into me. My hair fanned across the pillows, my pants discarded on the floor

But not enough. Restlessness churned inside me, tangled with regret. I thought of all the things I could've been doing instead of rotting here, free, alive. Frustration boiled over, turning into self loathing. You're useless, stuck here because you're too dumb to stay in line. The humiliation of earlier replayed in my mind.

Ugh I need a knife to stab myself with it hard.

But even in the chaos of my thoughts, he wouldn't leave my mind. The man who had dragged me into this nightmare.

The warmth of his body beside mine earlier, the way our legs had brushed, his unrelenting gaze, the memory clung to me.

A knock shattered the silence, sending a jolt of fear through my body. My heart leapt into my throat.

The door creaked open, and there he was. The devil himself. His towering form filled the space.

I pulled the blanket tighter over my legs, trying to shield myself, though I knew it was pointless. He'd seen me before, too much of me. That day by the water, when I'd been stripped of every shred of dignity. He'd seen my body exposed, my bare panties clinging to me as I gasped for air.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

I shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "Not particularly."

My eyes flicked down to the med kit in his hand. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Where's Allister?"

"Allister?" He narrowed his eyes.
"Doesn't matter where he is. Looks like you're stuck with me tonight."

Kill me. Just kill me.
He stepped closer, placing the med kit on the nightstand. My pulse raced as he opened it, pulling out supplies.

"I thought Allister was supposed to—"

"Change of plans." He cut me off. His cold eyes drifted down my body, stopping at my injured leg. "Now, let's see that leg."

I hesitated but shifted slightly, pulling the blanket away just enough to expose the wound. His gloved hands moved as he sat on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he peeled off the gloves, revealing his hands. Rough and calloused, veined. Those hands. Damn

His touch was gentle, almost tender, as he lifted my leg into his lap. The blanket slipped further, leaving me more exposed than I wanted to be. I tugged my shirt down, trying to cover myself.

He didn't seem to notice, or maybe he did. His fingers moved with surprising care as he unwrapped the old bandage. I couldn't stop staring at him, at the mask that hid his face. What's under there? What's he hiding?

He looked up suddenly, catching my gaze. "You did well today."

His words hit me like a current, and I felt my defenses crumble. Why does he affect me like this?

"T-thank you," I stammered.

His expression softened, just slightly, as he focused on rewrapping the wound. Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes. I needed to know.

He froze for a moment, then straightened, meeting my gaze. "Who I am doesn't matter."

Frustration clawed at me. "I can't even know your name?"

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Because I deserve to know who's holding me captive," I shot back, anger seeping into my voice.

He let out a low huff, shaking his head. "And what would you do with that information, Lola?"

Silence. He wasn't going to tell me. He never would.

I bit my lip, gathering my courage. "You don't like me, do you? You think I'm selfish, naïve, a pain in the ass."

His hands stilled. "You are all of those things," he said evenly. "But I never said I didn't like you. I don't know you well enough not to like you."

My stomach churned with a mix of emotions I didn't want to unpack.

"Why do you ask so many questions? Even when you know you won't get a straight answer?" he asked suddenly.

"Because it's the only way I can make sense of this," I admitted. "Even if I don't get the answers I want, at least I'm trying to understand."

He leaned closer, his gaze piercing. "Trying to make sense of things," he repeated.
"I understand the appeal of control. But around me, you don't have any."

His hand on my leg tightened, sending a jolt through me.

I swallowed hard, meeting his eyes despite the tension crawling over my skin.
"I'm—I'm sorry."

I shifted, drawing my knees to my chest, exposing just a little more skin. His gaze flicked over the movement, quick, but his expression stayed hard.

"Careful," he murmured.

"Why?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "Afraid I might get hurt?"

"No. Afraid you'll think you're special."

My stomach dropped, his words slicing through me like a blade.

I swallowed hard. "I'm not trying to—"

"Yes, you are." His tone was sharp, final. "You think you can bait me, test limits." His jaw tightened, and he leaned forward again, his face close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath. "But the only limit you'll find is when I decide to stop."

The knot in my throat was too thick to swallow.

He stood abruptly, his towering frame blocking out the dim light from the doorway."Get some rest. Tomorrow won't be any easier."

The door clicked shut behind him, and I exhaled the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. What the fuck was I doing?

My kidnapper did something to me. Something dark and strange. My whole body was covered with shivers, both the good and the bad kind.

How could I be so afraid and yet so drawn to him at the same time? It was as if he had awakened a part of me I didn't know existed, a part that craved danger.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm down.

Tomorrow would indeed be interesting just like any other day. And I was determined to be ready for whatever it might bring.