Page 15 of Cruel Master

I stare at another vase of blue roses. They were sitting on my nightstand when he returned me to my room.

I stare at the deep blue rose petals, my brow furrowed as I try to figure out the elusive man that is my captor.

Gabriel is insanely hot. I know he could have any woman he wants, so why did he kidnap me if all he wants is sex? Why steal me? The man could get sex at the snap of his fingers.

It doesn’t make any sense. I've always been told I was pretty, but I'm not one of those model types. I'm not polished and sophisticated. I have a mane of unruly red hair. My skin is pale as a ghost. My eyes are hazel. I'm a skinny slip of a girl from being malnourished in my youth. I don't have sensual curves, large breasts, and a big butt like the girls in those rap videos on MTV.

There’s nothing particularly special about me, so I can't figure out why he took me. Maybe that's what's driving me crazy most of all. Not knowing why he took me. It's almost just as bad as not knowing what his end game plan with this is.

Is he ever going to let me go? Is he just going to use me until he fulfills his sexual needs and then gets bored of me and moves on to the next girl? Is that what he does? Does he get off on the whole game of kidnapping a girl and using her until he's done with her?

I tell myself I don't care. That I just want him to hurry up and be done with me and let me go, but I feel a pang in my chest when I imagine him doing this to other girls.

I scowl and shake it off because that pang cannot be jealousy. I don't want to be in this situation. I don't want to have his piercing blue eyes fixated on me.

I’m too much of a coward to ask him any of this, and I know he wouldn’t give me any straight answers anyway. Every time I've asked him anything, he’s spoken in a riddle. The most upfront he's been with me about what he wants for me is when he threw me on that table and ate me out like I was his last meal.

I sit up in the bed and wrap my arms around my knees as I continue to contemplate him.

Gabriel speaks more with actions than with words. He said he doesn't want to hurt me, and strangely enough, I believe him. I don't think his intentions are to hurt me, but he won't tell me what his intentions really are, so I'm going to have to figure it all out myself.

I turn and stare at the blue roses on my nightstand before I pluck one out of the vase and run my fingers over the petals absently. All the thorns have been removed from the stems, and I can’t help but think there’s a message even in that.

I get the impression that everything Gabriel does is for a reason. He likes to be in control. That much is evident in the way he planned my kidnapping down to the letter.

He had the thorns stripped from these roses because he didn't want me to be able to hurt myself with them.

I run my fingers along the velvety soft petals. This is the third time I've seen blue roses in his mansion, so they must mean something.

I try to remember what the different colors of roses mean. I know that deep red means love. White means purity. Yellow means friendship. Pink means adoration. But what does blue mean? Blue roses aren't something I've ever seen in real life before now. I’ve only seen pictures of them on the internet.

I think I remember reading somewhere they mean mystery. My mouth twists wryly as I finger the petals. That couldn't be more appropriate because Gabriel is mysterious if nothing else. I can't figure him out, and it's driving me crazy because he knows everything about me, yet I know nothing about him.

He must know this, and maybe that's why these damn roses keep popping up everywhere. Maybe he’s using them as a way to taunt me with the mystery of all that he is.

The longer I stare at the damned roses, the more convinced I become that that's what they're there for—to taunt me—and the angrier I get.

Gabriel says he doesn't want to hurt me, and maybe that's true. Maybe he doesn't physically want to hurt me, but he seems to get off on these mental games. He’s playing with me.

He calls me “kitten,” but he's the cat, and I'm just a silly little mouse he’s playing with before he goes in for the kill.

Tears of frustration rush to my eyes. I grab the vase of flowers and fling it across the room.

The vase shatters, the roses and water and broken shards of glass falling to the floor.

The room is silent after the deafening crash. I hoped it would make me feel better, but it doesn't.

Instead, my chest heaves up and down, my frustration not abated one bit.

Even though it's the middle of the night, Gabriel must still be up because a moment later, I hear the turning of the doorknob.

I go completely still, my chest squeezing in panic as I lift my eyes to the door.

It opens slowly, and Gabriel is standing there with a grim look on his face.

Fuck.

ChapterTen

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