Captive: Hopeless

Chapter 11 - Myths

Before Kay even fully woke, something seemed off, and her senses took stock of her surroundings without her moving.

How was there not chilly bedrock beneath her body? Warmth encased her body, and no manacle enclosed her wrist.

She'd almost forgotten the comfort of a bed and feared opening her eyes.

What fresh hell had Azera cooked up for her?

Panic steadily built like a dam about to overflow, but she took a deep breath, peeked through her lids, and blinked, slowly sitting upright.

This was an actual room, and she rested on an old-fashioned four-poster bed. The soft duvet was thick, hand stitched, and expensive.

The coverlet and sheets were made of Egyptian cotton with a high thread count, and her mother would have drooled over them. The thought sent a shaft of pain through her heart and constricted her throat, but she did not allow herself to linger on the memories.

The vanity table matched the bed in style. Plush carpets covered the floors, and two doors with ornate handles led off to the side, while a dark wooden one with a sturdy knob and intricately engraved patterns would exit into the hallway.

Reluctant to leave the comfortable, decadent bed, she had to know where she was and what this meant for her, and her feet sank into the carpet. Instead of going to the door that would lead outside, she explored the other two.

The first opened into a desolately empty walk-in closet; predictably, the other led to a lavish bathroom with a shower and a deep tub. Without a second thought, she shed the pajamas and took a moment to figure out the fancy shower before stepping under the spray and allowing the heated water to pummel her shoulders and neck.

She randomly picked from the various shampoos, conditioners, soaps, and creams to sort herself out.

Deodorants, body spray, and perfumes hid under the sink, but she was not a perfume type of girl. She'd been unable to stand sharp smells as a human, and it was worse for her now.

***

Wrapped in fluffy white towels, she returned to the room, having spied a hair dryer, and with her hair longer than ever, it needed drying.

She paused at the door.

Someone had made her bed and laid out a clean set of clothes on the covers. Although not exactly her taste, it was in her size, and she was not about to complain.

How the hell had she not heard someone enter the room?

The leather pants were too tight for her liking and clung to her thighs before flaring out a bit around the ankles. A black tank top clung to her as if it were painted on, but it was not uncomfortable, and at least she wasn't naked.

Never a fan of thongs, she was instantly uncomfortable, and the bra was designed to show off her boobs, doing a little too good a job.

She eyed the black suspenders warily, but the pants had no belt and were already riding down, and with a sigh, she put them on, glancing at herself in the mirror. With her hair tied in a bun and in this getup, she looked indecently sexy in a way that would have horrified Daniella. Her mother would have hated it, and Doreen would have been obsessed.

Poor Doreen, how guilty she must still feel, naturally assuming Daniella's disappearance was her fault when it had nothing to do with her.

***

Kay sat on the bed and pulled on the matching leather boots. They were short, with the heel a little over two inches. Not a choice she would make, but they were snug, soft, and surprisingly comfortable.