Obsession

III

The last bite of Haddock slid down my swollen esophagus, bringing about a small coughing fit. I was thankful as my captor shoved the cold glass of water that had been sitting on the nightstand into my palm. I threw the liquid back, my inflamed throat moaning as the iced water trickled into the depths of my stomach.

My eyes automatically shifted to the man, a grateful glint in their depths as I proceeded to set the empty glass back onto the oak nightstand. "Thank you," I groaned out.

I knew that only inflated his ego, as he sat up taller squaring his broad shoulders. "You need to be taken care of," he quipped, reclining back on the bed, leaning on his elbows.

His presence gave me feelings that I can't quite explain. Oddly enough, I was thankful that he was going to treat me like a proper human and not some washed up slave, but nonetheless something deep down in my gut told me to be scared. I wanted to be terrified, but for the strangest reason, I just couldn't bring myself to feel scared. I was nervous, nevertheless, and shy. Perhaps intimidated too, but not frightened of this man. Something told me he meant what he said about not hurting me.

He was watching me again through the blackened aviators. I wanted to reach out and snatch them off his face just so I could see his eyes. I was curious as to who wanted to keep me locked up in their tower, but there would be consequences if I went through with it, so I had to contain myself.

"You're thinking again," he observed aloud.

I nodded, and replied with a simple, "you're right."

The room fell on silence once more. It was almost, eerily comforting, as he casually and carelessly leans back studying the ceiling. A very serene and unique situation. "You've always fascinated me," he admits brazenly, those deep vocals filled with a confident air.

"Why?"

I can feel his eyes caress my body again, their depths searching my soul carefully before choosing which words he should respond with. I can feel them when they are on me, like a dagger sticking out of my skin, his eyes just penetrate me. "I don't need to answer your question, when you already know the answer yourself."

I could feel my brow furrowing downwards in hard confusion. Every time he opened his mouth, something so smooth and clever fumbles out, making me have to pause and ponder over his words. "I'm not so sure I'm catching on," I answered honestly, pulling my knees to my chest comfortably.

A deep rumble emits from his chest, something rather sweet and intoxicating like honey; a deep chuckle that stroked my ears with a soft lullaby. "You're a funny girl, Roxanne. I'm not surprised you caught the attention of every patron in that dumpster of a strip club."

Heat crawled up my chest and surfaced on my neck. His words were so sweet, despite the dire circumstances at hand. He was a charmer, I'm sure, in his normal daily life. If only they knew he kept girls locked up to play with.

The intensity of his gaze miraculously grew at the sight of my reaction, his smile coming to a slow fade and ultimately vanishing from his form. "I'd better get going," he mumbled before propelling himself vertically, taking a few paces from the bedside. "You should rest. You've got a big day tomorrow."

"What's going on tomorrow?" The question fell from my tongue breezily as my soft blue eyes fell on his partially covered face.

"I can't tell you. It will ruin the surprise," was all he stated before pivoting and making a swift exit, leather jacket catching the breeze as he opened the door and flowing weightlessly behind him as he pulls the door shut.

Alone. The damned solace will consume me whole at this rate. I can't stand it. I almost want to reach out and pull him back here. He wouldn't have to say anything, just seat himself silently in the corner of the room, leaving me with his presence.