Page 11 of Stolen Vows

Seeing her like this, utterly defenseless but completely at peace, it’s almost as though I am spying on her undressed. I can’t see anything but her face, her soft, slumbering features, and yet...

I draw back swiftly, closing the door behind me and pushing the lock back across without a second thought. I don’t know what the fuck is going on in my head right now. First, dreaming about fucking her, and then, unable to so much as look on her asleep in bed without being caught up in a mess in my mind.

I need to get some rest. Clear my head. I can’t let my thoughts get the better of me, not when we have only just arrived out here. My family has poured too much into planning and orchestrating this for me to get skittish on day one and make a mess of things.

I return to the armchair and settle my head back against the plush fabric, my ears alert as I watch the window. Outside, everything seems quiet, but in here, in my head, I am not sure I can say the same thing.

6

Cara

Pressing one foot down on top of the bed, I wince as it lets out a loud squeak.

I glance towards the door, checking that I have not attracted his attention, but, for now, at least, my captor—Max, he’d told me his name was—seems to be keeping his distance.

I’m actually glad about that.

For the last couple of days I’ve been stuck here all by myself—no company, nobody to talk to, nothing to do.

He comes in with food, lets me go to the bathroom a couple of times a day while he stands watch outside the door, and then locks me back up in the bedroom again.

I didn’t know when that routine was going to change, if ever. What if I have to get used to living like this...?

"Can I at least go outside? Stretch my legs?" I had pleaded with him when he’d brought my food this morning. He hadplaced down the plate of toast and eggs at my feet, and then straightened back up again before he replied.

"No."

"You can come with me," I offered him desperately. "Hell, if you want to cuff me to you, I’ll do it. I just need to get out of here, please, for a little while..."

His eyes darted down to my wrist, as though he was picturing the cuffs on them right as I said it. I felt a flood of heat come to my cheeks at the thought of him cuffing me, and wished I could take it back.

He’d turned me down, and that had been the last time I’d seen him. I knew he would be back to bring me dinner in a few hours, but I’d resolved to use the time to my advantage.

I’m not just going to stand by and let him call the shots like this. I’m going to try to make my way to freedom.

Even if I’m not sure what that looks like right now.

And so, I test out the strength of the bed, seeing if it can hold my weight. It’s not exactly sturdy, but it seems to be able to keep me balanced upright. I’m not going to have to be up there for long—just as long as it takes for me to get a grip on the window latch, which is at the top of the window on the far side. It will take a little ingenuity to open it, but I will find a way. I just need to get up there and get a closer look at it.

I double-check the door, listening closely to make sure that he is not intending to burst in on me, and I step on the bed. Biting my tongue between my teeth to keep my focus, I run my hand along the edge of the window. It feels shut tight, no air coming through. I just need to get closer to the latch. If I can just...

I stand on tiptoe, but that’s not enough. I need a few more inches of leverage. I grit my teeth, and lift my foot onto the inside of the sill, trying to push myself up on the wood, but...

All of a sudden, my foot skids out from underneath me, dropping to the bed with a crash. It goes straight through the cheap, old bed frame slats, twisting painfully to one side. I let out a cry filling the room with an undeniable explosion of noise.

I try to wrestle myself loose before he comes in, but the pain shooting up and down my leg refuses to budge. I groan, and resign myself to my fate as the door opens and he bursts in.

"What the hell are you doing?” he exclaims, as he rushes to my side. He goes to lift me out, but I push him away.

"Don’t pull me," I protest. "I’ve hurt my leg. I need help..."

He stares at me for a moment—looking at the bedframe, at me, clearly piecing everything together. And, as he runs a hand through his hair, for a moment I think he is going to turn his back on me and leave me to get out of this mess himself. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. I mean, I was trying to escape. There’s no way I can pretend I was just exploring the springiness of the bed for some utterly innocent reason.

But then, to my surprise, he leans down, and he tucks one hand under my thigh. He eases it up slowly, lifting my leg till it comes loose from between the broken wood slats.

The wood has torn into my skin, not too deep, but the blood has soaked through the pants, which have been ripped. I look away from it, gulping hard. I’ve never been good with the sight of blood, let alone my own.

"Shit," he mutters, and he leaves the room. I peel the leg of the pants up, trying to get a better look at the damage. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid as to let something like this happen. I should have been more careful. I am never going to get out if I hurt myself like this. I need to be ready to run at any given moment, and I can tell that this is going to stop those plans for the time being.

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