Page 67 of His Captive

She may be my captive, but she’s also my weakness.

And I’m starting to believe that maybe she could also be my salvation.

Seventeen

LYSETTA

I’d ran, but he’d hunted me down. And with the heavy weight of his body looming over mine I’d expected him to have me there. Rain pouring over us, mud slopping between my fingers. I imagined him fucking me until all the breath left my body and then leaving me here to rot.

His breaths were heavy, his chest almost crushing me beneath his huge frame. Sheltering me from the rain that beat hard at his back, while anger and torment burnt in his eyes.

His hair was out of place, I’d never seen it this way before, falling on to his forehead, and I wanted to fight against his hands to free myself and push it back.

With his hips pinned hard into mine, I felt him strain against my stomach. If I could cry, this would be the time I’d want to, because I want him so much.

He’s a monster, a savage, and yet my body craves him as though he’s the only thing I have to live for.

I hold his eyes for as long as I can. Know he’s biding his time, figuring what method he will attempt to destroy me with next. What he doesn’t know was that he’s already succeeded. Everything he said is true. Ethan Shaw has ruined me. He’s made me his.

I wake up in an unfamiliar room. The curtains are open. But the sun that pours through them fails to brighten the black walls. He’s sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, staring right at me like he’s been waiting for me to wake up, and I wish that I could read his mood.

I pull the black sheets from my body. I’m filthy, covered in mud and scratches.

Everything rushes back to me. Flashbacks of his hurtful words. Me running. Him catching me. The basement…My hand lifts to touch at my neck.

“You need to clean yourself up,” he speaks coldly. Standing to his feet and moving across the room. He disappears through another door, returning a few minutes later, then standing beside the bed he holds out his hand. It’s the same way he’d stood over me outside last night. Just like then I take it without question. Only this time, I hear a sigh that sounds a lot like relief come from his chest. He leads me into a bathroom, this one twice the size of the one in my room. The huge bath in the middle of it is already filling up with bubbles and his head gestures for me to get in.

I step inside, letting the water heat up my skin. My scratches sting, and the soles of my feet burn at first, but it feels good after a few seconds.

I tense when I feel him touch my back, squeezing a sponge against my skin and releasing warm trickles of water that tickle down my spine.

“Lie back,” he tells me softly, using the sponge to drench my hair when I do as he asks, his attention is fully on cleansing me, and I watch him in shock.

“I said some things last night. Before…” he stops, almost as if he doesn’t want to finish his sentence. His eyes still refuse to make any contact with mine. “I’m sorry for what I said,” he tells me softly.

Moving the sponge over my breasts, and across my stomach, he avoids my pussy as he brushes down one of my legs. I don’t respond. I can’t even if I wanted to.

His apology has stunned me almost as much as the tender way he’s touching me.

“I’ll leave you to finish up, get Mrs. Pritchard to fix us up something for breakfast. We can eat up here.”

He stands up and turns to leave.

“In your room?” I ask before he walks out. It suddenly dawns on me that I slept in his bed last night and my heart flutters pathetically.

“Yes, Lysa. In my room,” he confirms, something that doesn’t quite register as a smile lifts on his mouth, and he leaves before I can ask him any more questions.

I wash my hair and scrub all the dirt from beneath my nails. Wrapping a towel around my chest then stepping back into his room. He isn’t there, so it gives me chance to observe it in the daylight.

Everything is black, dark just like him. I let my fingers roam over the furniture, as I walk around the room. There are weights, a treadmill and pull up bars hanging from the ceiling in one corner of the room, guess that explains the perfect body.

When I hear the door, I quickly spin around. Crossing my hands behind my back guiltily, despite having no reason to be.

Ethan steps inside with a tray in his hands and a suspicious look on his face.

“What have you been up to?” he asks placing the tray on the bed.

“Nothing, I was just taking a look around.” I sit on top of the bed, surprised at the casual way he stretches out beside to me. He takes a grape from the tray and brings it to my mouth.

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