Twisted (erotic) (#6, 101 Nights)

Chapter One: George

Two days later

I’ve given what little food someone has been pushing through a crack in the door to Natalie. We’re provided with enough water not to die and enough food for one person to eat a meal daily.

It’s a technique I recognize from my Special Forces training, one meant to wear down the physical stamina and resistance of prisoners. Near starvation, combined with nights too cold to sleep and days in an oven, does a lot of damage to the body but also the psyche. My scrapes and bruises have slowed in the healing process, and I’m tired but familiar with this game. It isn’t affecting me the way it could – yet.

Natalie, however, is suffering. She’s grown paler, weak, and at times, nonresponsive when I try to talk to her.

Standing, I pace around the edges of the shipping box we’re trapped in. The direct sunlight of midmorning has chased away the ocean chill, and soon, the metal container will start to overheat and broil us the way it has the past two days.

“Natalie, love, I know you don’t want to do this, but we’re doing some yoga,” I tell her.

She looks at me, exhaustion clear on her features, and climbs to her feet. She’s off balance from hunger and probably, the tax of bearing EJ’s heir. If ever there was something poorly timed, it was her being two months pregnant while trapped in this metal box.

I’ve been forcing her to move several times a day. She doesn’t resist, and her ability to focus returns when we’re done.

“Ready?”

She nods.

We go through a slow, gentle yoga routine meant to keep her muscles from atrophy and to pull her mind out of the misery she’s been going through. It takes about an hour, and by the end, the heat of noon is starting to set in.

“It’s getting a little easier,” she admits, a spark of life in her features. She sits heavily when we’re done.

“Is it helping your mental clarity?” I ask.

She nods and sips the liter of water that’s hers. We’re each provided with two liters a day.

I continue on with some basic martial arts forms, pushups and ab work. I’ve been in much worse situations. The key for me to stay sharp and ready is to maintain harmony and a state of readiness between my physical and mental states – and to use the iron will of mine to block my body’s complaints.

Even with all my experience in war zones, I’m not accustomed to being in such a situation with a female civilian who has no military background or survival training. I don’t like doubting myself; I hate feeling helpless even more.

“What’re you thinking about?” I ask absently as I go through the motions of my routine.

“Whether or not EJ and Alisha have killed each other yet.”

I chuckle. “There’s a chance of that.”

“I’d love to be a fly on that wall.” She’s smiling wanly. “I love them both but I think we’re the grounded ones in this scenario.”

“Agreed.”

Two solid days trapped in a container with someone gives you plenty of time to talk. She managed to pull it out of me that Alisha and I might be a thing, as well as multiple stories about growing up in a royal household and my special ops experiences. It’s easier for me to talk than to tax her with storytelling, and taking her mind off our situation should help her cope better.

A glance in her direction reveals the familiar look of desolation has crept into her features once more. “Alisha will find us, Natalie. If there’s one thing I know, it’s this, and no spat between them will keep EJ from rescuing us once she does.”

“I know,” Natalie murmurs. “I’m just so tired, George.”

“Hang in there, love.”

The periods between up times are getting shorter, and that scares me. Natalie is tough, but she’s been trapped for over three weeks in a place like this. I don’t know if I can keep her spirits elevated much longer, and I can’t bear the thought of her breaking.

“You’re a good man, George. I see why EJ trusts you.”

I pause in my martial arts form before continuing. It’s a very rare day when someone calls me good.

“You disagree,” she observes. “You and Alisha share that in common. You’re good people, even if you all don’t see it.”

“There are more skeletons in my closet than I am willing to discuss,” I reply.

“No amount of skeletons will change my mind.”

“You focus too much on the good in someone, Natalie,” I say softly. “In a different scenario, I could easily be Hasan.”

“You’re only fooling yourself, George, if you think that’s true.”

I hope you’re right. I don’t know the depths of my darkness. I don’t know what I’ll do if what happened to Tracey also happens to Natalie or Alisha.

I liked Natalie before, and I can understand now what made EJ willing to give up his wealth and throne for her. He needs someone like her to balance him, but she’s not going to last much longer.

Hurry, Alisha, I mentally will the woman I know can find us.