Page 10 of Fearless
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Kitty sat on the edge of the narrow bed in her new room and tried not to see all this as being every bit a prison as Ethen’s remote farmhouse had been. She was just as isolated, but no. This was worse. Living with Ethen, at least she’d been in America where—if necessary—she could run out the front door, four miles down the road and call someone to come and get her. Who could she call to come get her now? Three months ago, when standing in front of Ethen’s open front door staring out into the cold, for all that she hadn’t been able to see them clearly at the time, at least she’d had options. What were her options here? Now, she really did have no place to go. Now, she really was trapped.
Hers was a corner bedroom with a window in each of the outward facing walls and a narrow twin-sized bed tucked up beneath them. For all that a layer of boxes completely lined one wall from floor practically to ceiling, an obvious attempt had been made to make it cozy. Although the mattress seemed newer, the bed itself with its white wrought-iron frame had to have been at least fifty years old. The box springs squeaked when she sat down, but a few experimental bounces told her it might not be uncomfortable to sleep on. White pillowcases adorned two goose-down pillows and the light patchwork quilt made up with military perfection looked old and worn, but clean.
White, lace-trimmed curtains were drawn across both narrow windows. They were new. Not only did they still have their folding creases, but the torn wrappers they had come in were crumpled into balls and discarded in the trash bin, tucked up between her bed and the antique nightstand set directly beneath the north window. That one offered a view of the back porch and koala trees, and wasn’t locked. An experimental push opened it fairly easily, letting in a gust of hot air. She closed it again.
Through the east window, she saw the front of the screened-in veranda with its front porch swing and smoking chairs, Noah’s long driveway, his truck and the wide-open pasture leading off to the surrounding woods.
She opened that window too. It stuck a little, but again, wasn’t locked. The insects here were horribly loud and for all that the sun was gone, taking most of the daylight with it, the night air was warmer than she was used to. She closed it again, but left the drapes parted.
What was she doing here? Why had she ever agreed to this?
Ethen would never find her here, a part of her brain supplied.
Neither would anyone else. She’d seen ‘Wolf Creek.’ She gave herself three days before she ended up buried under a koala tree.
“Knock it off,” she whispered. She didn’t know Garreth well, but she knew Hadlee. For all that she’d run away and left Kitty behind to bear Ethen’s wrath alone, Hadlee was her friend. Not for a second did Kitty think she would trap her in the middle of nowhere with someone who would hurt her.
Not knowingly, anyway.
“Stop it,” she hissed, hands clenching so hard that her nails bit red crescents into her palms. She squeezed harder, deliberately welcoming the pain. It was calming, grounding, and the very least of what she deserved for letting her uncharitable thoughts run in such terrifying directions. It was as if her brain wanted to keep her as frightened as it could, for as long as possible.
She was tired of being scared. And yet, being scared had become so familiar to her that it was almost… comforting. How fucked up was that? She buried her face in her hands, willing herself to get angry. At least then, she’d have a good excuse for how badly she was shaking.
Maybe she ought to eat something. The nausea that had overcome her in the car had passed; she was hungry now. Thirsty, too. The sweet tea he had mentioned sounded good, but this was a small house and she could hear the clatter of dishes, the muted hiss of water turning on and off and his footsteps as he moved back and forth from fridge to counter to sink and back again. She didn’t want to go out there until he was gone. If she sat here long enough, eventually he would go to bed, right?
How late was it? She didn’t have a watch and, jetlagged as she was, she didn’t trust the time her body was trying to convince her it was. The sun was down, so it might be late enough for him to crave sleep.
Maybe even above other things.
Yeah. Right. Said no man in the history of Ever.
That wasn’t true. Kitty didn’t know about other men. She could barely remember her life and relationships… before, but she knew Ethen. She knew about him so well that when at long last those heavy footsteps clumped across the kitchen floor and started down the hallway, her heart erupted all the way up into the back of her throat and her stomach fell cringing to her toes.
It was coming now. She knew it with such certainty that every inch of her braced for it. That moment when he came up against the unlocked barrier of her prison door and, instead of knocking as he promised, his hand took hold of the knob and turned it. She could already see that door pushing open and the shadow of him filling up the threshold a half step before he came inside. She could see him, Ethen-tall and Ethen-thin, pulling his belt from his pant loops and letting the folded leather hang from his ready hand until she decided how obedient she wanted to be.
Her fingernails bit deeper into her palms, because she could already see herself standing up, turning around, peeling out of her pants before getting down in her kitty-position—head down, ass up, legs together in the hope that might protect her pussy and anus from the whipping bite of the belt if he decided to use it anyway.
And of course, he would; obviously she needed it. Just look where she was. Look what she’d done. If anyone deserved whipping, wasn’t it her?
Her whole body jumped at the soft single-knuckle knock that rapped twice at her closed bedroom door.
“Dinner’s ready,” Noah called, snapping Kitty sharply back to herself. Her heart still thundered in the back of her throat. Her stomach still cowered, sunk so far into herself she felt sick all over again.
He wasn’t Ethen, she told herself. He’d obeyed his own rule, at least for now. But, one thing living with Ethen had taught her: He who made the rules, could and would change them at whim. Sooner or later, she was going to be even more defenseless than she was right now— but Hadlee would never deliberately put her in such a situation. Except, Kitty didn’t know that. Nobody ever really knew that about someone else, right? And Noah was right here. Right outside her door. His door. His house. His prison, with all the bars of his rules firmly locking her into place. All he had to do was wait. Eventually, he would catch her sitting on the toilet or taking a shower—
Noah knocked on the door again. “Kitty, are you awake, love?”
Or lying in bed late at night, when she at last fell so exhausted that she couldn’t keep her eyes open not one second longer—
Her panicking heart missed a beat.
“Yes,” she quavered, her voice weirdly hoarse and shaking. She cleared her throat, trying hard to quell the fearful trembling. “I-I’ll be right there.”
He hesitated a moment, but then his footsteps retreated back down the hall. She heard him go back into the kitchen, but there was no relief in this newfound distance. Only the awful sinking dread that accompanied knowing he had all the power, and all the time in the world. All he had to do was wait. It was coming. Eventually, he would decide when the moment was right to strike, but until he did, she was stuck… waiting right along with him.
Chapter 4
