Page 20 of Creatures Like Us
He pulls back immediately, and somehow, that only makes me angrier.
“Please just go.” I turn around, trying to shield myself from that attentive, soft look in his eyes. I have to push him away, because if I don’t, I might have to admit to myself that I need him, and that’s a battle I’m not yet ready to surrender.
I don’t know how many days have passed.
Days of sleeplessness, of being sick, and of an ache deep in my bones. The shift is gradual, but today, I’ve been feeling a little better. Less nauseous, less shivery. Less achy. Layers of coldsweat have dried on my skin, and the need for a shower feels more pressing than any other.
Noah arrives what feels like only seconds after my call, as if he was on standby upstairs.
“Yes, Goldilocks?” he asks, and he lifts a hand to push his long hair out of his face. I wonder what it would feel like to slide my fingers through those silky black strands. I’ve never seen a guy with hair that long. Looks kind of cool.
Shaking my head and pushing the thoughts away, I focus on the task at hand. “I stink. I need a shower or something.”
“A shower.” He studies me for a while, and for once, I can guess what he’s thinking: How is he going to manage this without the risk of me trying to escape?
He turns on his heel, leaving me alone again, and when he returns, he’s holding something in his hand.
A knife.
What did he say about those chickens again?We had twelve?…?I slaughtered the last one?…
I crawl further up the bed, plastering my back to the wall. “Wh-What are you doing with that thing?”
“This?” Noah lifts the knife with a shrug. “This is just to keep you from getting ideas.”
I exhale in relief. Okay, so he’s not going to slit my throat with it. At least, not yet.
“Don’t you have a gun or something?” A knife seems so?…?intimate. I imagine that sharp blade sinking into my stomach, and I shudder at the thought. I can almostfeelthe pain—biting, all-consuming?…?Noah’s dispassionate black eyes staring down at me as I bleed out on the floor?…
A gun is more immediate.Bang, you’re dead. He wouldn’t have to be close to me. He wouldn’t have to touch me.
“Would you rather I use my hunting rifle?” he asks, oblivious to my discomfort.
I grimace. “Never mind.”
“Come, then. Let me uncuff you.”
With no small amount of hesitation, I crawl to the end of the bed and hold out my arm. Noah slides the knife into his belt to instead fish a small key out of his pocket, which he twists into the twin padlocks that are undermining my freedom. The locks click open, and for the first time in days, I’m rid of that solid weight around my wrist. Sighing, I stroke the raw skin underneath.
“Come.” Noah gestures to the bathroom where he usually empties my buckets.
“We’re not going upstairs?” I ask warily. I’d rather get a chance to orient myself around the house, even if I won’t dare to attempt anything in the presence of that knife.
“No. Go on.” Noah gestures again to the bathroom, and I peel myself away from the bed, one foot after the other. Walking feels weird. I haven’t walked properly in days, and my muscles seem to have weakened since then.
My wrist is free, yet I still feel very much like a prisoner as Noah herds me toward the bathroom. Inside, there’s a toilet, a sink, and a square tub built into the wall. The green tiles and the trickle of the evening’s last golden rays give the room an eerie glow.
“Noah?” I turn around.
He’s right behind my back, knife in hand. “Yes, Goldilocks?”
“Are you going to force me to get naked in front of you at knifepoint?”
He gulps. “Um, n-no.”
I can’t help it. His stuttering does something to me, and I have to admit, I fucking love it when he gets shy around the mere suggestion of sex. I don’t have much for entertainment around here except him, and right now, he’s more than enough.
He looks at me strangely, as if he doesn’t quite know what I’m up to—as if he’s the one who’s wary ofmethis time. I like thechange; even though I’m still in the hands of my captor, it feels like I’m in control.
