Page 49 of Pose for Me
He nods as if he understands. “So you’ll be gone tomorrow?” I nod, wondering what he’s getting at. “What will I do while you’re gone? Will you…will you put me back in that cell?”
Lane trembles, though he tries to hide it.
I walk over and take him into my arms, kissing him on the forehead. “No. You’ll stay in here. The chain will let you roam around the room and get some sun. No more cell unless you try to escape, understand?”
He nods quickly, wiping at the tears leaking from his eyes. “I won’t, I promise. I don’t want to go back down there.”
“Okay, baby boy.”
I help him get undressed and into the tub. Lane sighs deeply, tears still running down his face. “It feels good. And waking up in a bed? That was nice. Daddy, I don’t want to lie to you. I’m scared. Really scared. But…I can trust you to tell me when you’re done with me, right? So I’ll see my death coming?”
Grabbing the cloth from the side of the tub, I dip it into the water and run it across his back. Lane sighs more deeply. “Lane, I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you. Do you understand?” Lane looks at me and shakes his head. “Whatever this is, it ends when one of us dies. Got it?”
“I do. That just means that there are no more victims, right? At least for a little while?”
I’m silent, not confirming or denying because I don’t know. For now, I won’t kill anyone, but in one year? Five? Ten? I might want a new victim, and my obsession with Lane won’t interfere with that.
I guess we’ll see what the future holds.
Twenty
Lane
My mind is still reelingthat I have a Daddy. Not only because he’s the man who kidnapped me but he’s also the serial killer that I’ve been tracking, trying to bring to justice, and attempting to put away forever.
I was being sarcastic when I called Ryell “Daddy,” but I won’t lie, the title fits. The first time we were together, I felt the Daddy vibes rolling off him in waves.
God, I loved his reaction to me calling him Daddy. He got growly and gave me all the attention I wanted from him.
Being his sole focus made giddiness sing through my veins. Followed up quickly by arousal. I’m still pretty weak, but that didn’t stop my dick from chubbing up.
As I sit in the chair by the window of Ryell’s room, I sigh in contentment. I’m not happy to be here—especially not under these circumstances—but I feel at peace. For years, I’ve been on the move, on high alert, looking at gruesome crime scene photos and watching dark web murders, seeing bodies and getting into the mind of a killer.
Sitting here, I realize how much my job was weighing on me. Even finding out who The Poser is feels like a weight off my shoulders—even though that same killer is holding me againstmy will. It’s actually nice to not have to worry about catching a perp.
My impending death is also heavy on my mind. There’s no way this ends with me keeping my life. Ryell will play with me, sketch me, then discard me like I’m trash.
The crazy thing is, that doesn’t bother me. As long as he gives me as much attention as he did yesterday when he bathed me, I can come to terms with only having a few weeks left to live.
Reaching forward, I open the curtains wider, then slouch in the chair, closing my eyes as I face the afternoon sun. Being locked in a basement for weeks made me miss something so simple. Even though my eyes still sting from the brightness, I continue to face the window and soak up as much of the sun’s rays as I can.
Close to an hour later—long enough for my legs and ass to go numb—I stand and shake myself to allow the blood to flow through my limbs. Then I trudge to the bathroom, the chain dragging behind me.
When I woke up alone, I laid in bed for a while, tears rolling down my cheeks as I absorbed the comfort of the mattress and having a thick blanket and beingwarm.When I turned over to hug a pillow to my chest, it smelled like Ryell. I didn’t want to move as I drew his scent into my lungs, taking greedy pulls of air to keep his fragrance with me. I only left the bed because I had to use the bathroom and discovered that my chain would reach.
After I empty my bladder, I step closer to the mirror to wash my hands. I look at myself, noting my hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, and the facial hair that I fucking hate. I’ve always been clean-shaven, not liking how irritated my skin gets when I grow more than stubble. The hair on my face is itchy and uncomfortable.
Bending down, I check under the counter to see if I can find a razor. Since I’m free from my cell, I can get rid of the fur covering my chin.
But it seems like Ryell put away anything sharp that I might use as a weapon. I don’t blame him. I would do the same if I were in his shoes.
I scoff as I lean against the counter. I would never be in his shoes, taking someone against their will. But that’s neither here nor there.
Pushing off the counter, I whip my shirt over my head to look at my body. It’ll be a while before I’m back to the shape I was in before I was imprisoned. I may have lost close to fifteen pounds, my skin hanging loosely. The pants Ryell gave me swim around my waist, the drawstring pulled tight so they don’t fall down. But I don’t exactly feel bad. Weak, but better than I had before Ryell gave me the silent treatment. His attention is enough to give me energy.
Just as I’m sliding my shirt back on, I hear the bedroom door open. My heart rate kicks up, both in fear and in anticipation.
“Lane?” Ryell calls, and I immediately relax, the breath that was pent-up in my chest flowing out of me.
