Gone.

Chapter Six - Raw

“You have very beautiful eyes, my love,” Zavier whispered. My gaze was locked with his; it felt like I couldn’t move. His face was strong, with an angular jawline and solid eyebrows. His hair was two or three shades of brown, mainly coffee-coloured with the occasional darker streak here and there; it was tousled, not overly messily, but enough to look carefree. And his eyes – they were a light, light hazel, almost tethering on the edge of being golden with brown streaks. He was the type of guy girls would swoon over, whisper about as he entered the room, try and impress by seeming cool and chilled. His body was well toned; his arms lined with muscle and shoulders broad.

I’d always been creeped out by overly muscled men. Always.

My mouth tightened slightly and I looked back down at my shoes, scuffing them against the carpet. From the edge of my vision I could see Zavier frown.

“Love, Candice – please talk to me. How are you?” Zavier asked in his deep voice, his hands clasped loosely together. I ground my teeth slightly, glaring at the ground and bobbing my legs up and down.

Oh, I’m just bloody fantastic. Thanks for asking. I absolutely love being kidnapped, spending days in a car with people I don’t know, experiencing an explosion and almost being squashed by half a motorbike. Not knowing if I’ll ever see my family again, or my friends, or my dog just brings me so much joy! I mean, who cares about my education or my future? This is just so much fun, I’m willing to give it all up - you stupid, stinking asshat.

I managed to keep silent, somehow. Realising I wasn’t going to say anything, Zavier slumped back against his couch.

“We’re not leaving until you start talking to me,” he said, raising his eyebrows as I glanced up at him. I kept my face blank, not revealing anything. Fine. I could stay in here as long as he wanted, it’s not like I had anything better to do.

I almost rolled my eyes at the stupidity of this whole situation, bringing my hands up in front of my face absently. Examining my fingers for a bit, I started to pop my knuckles. It was just a habit; my hands were uncomfortable if I didn’t crack them. My dad had always told me I’d get arthritis from doing it, and Sam claimed my knuckles would become abnormally big, but I ignored them – I was perfectly fine.

Two large hands wrapped themselves over mine, effectively engulfing them, and I froze. Determined not to look up, I just stared at the hands covering mine, and then tried to yank mine away. Zavier’s grip only tightened and I knew there was no way I’d be able to slip free.

“Candice,” he growled. “Don’t ever hurt yourself. I can’t handle it. I know how to protect you from others, I know how to fight. But saving you from yourself; I don’t know what to do.”

“Good,” I said quietly, snatching my hands away from his loosened hold. Zavier sucked in a controlled breath and I glanced up to see his eyes closed in concentration. After a few moments of silence, I shifted back in my seat uncomfortably, bringing my legs up underneath me. Zavier was squatting in front of the couch, his hands loosely interlocked as his eyebrows pinched together. I didn’t continue cracking my knuckles, but kept it in mind for later. Maybe Charlie had been right, maybe he did care.

“Are you hungry?” Zavier asked finally, raising his head. I traced a finger over the rips in my jeans, studiously ignoring him. “Thirsty? Tired? Are you cold, my love?”

Nothing.

“Candice.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Please, answer me.”

I wasn’t going to say anything, but then I thought for a moment. Then, chewing on the inside of my cheek, I asked, “Can you go get Matt?”