Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,28

a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

Wrapping a blanket around myself, I settle against the wall, pull the breakfast tray to me, and begin eating. I notice the slices of oranges on the plate are perfectly peeled as if Ember had painstakingly pulled every little piece of pith on the fruit off. She wants so desperately to be the good wife she has read about in books or what she has been told by Richard. I can see how hard she tries to please in her domestic duties. And yet… I wonder if I ever have a chance of convincing her to help us run away. I wish it’s easy trying to reason with her.

But there’s no reason in lunacy.

I take a sip of cold coffee and wish for a shot of whiskey to add to it.

Five days.

Five days with no booze. No pills. No sex. No life.

The shakes are subsiding with each new morning, but it makes me realize just how dependent my body is on my lifestyle. The cravings make this entire situation even worse. Detoxing in a twisted medieval horror story is about as bad as it can get.

Eventually Ember reenters the room with my clothes folded nicely in her arms almost as fast as she had left. “I was able to get most the dirt out, I think. There’s a hole in the leg that I can mend later if you want, but since I took so long with the buttons, I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.”

I stand up on full display. Since she’s walking toward me, there is no way she can turn her back on me now. I want her to see me. I want her to face me. I want her to see the reality of what is right in front of her.

Bold, bare, and stripped.

Once she sees me, her eyes quickly dart to the floor. Funny how my nudity causes more discomfort in her than seeing me chained to a wall against my will does.

“Thank you,” I say, deciding to give her some mercy and get dressed quickly. That and my balls were damn near freezing off with the chill in the room. Although it’s not easy pushing the buttons through each hole that run from my ankle to waist.

I notice as I’m dressing that her cat never leaves her side, it follows her around wherever she goes. Instead of walking to her crate, as I expect her to do, Ember moves toward my pile of blankets and begins to fold and position them into a nice little bed again. She then grabs the tray from breakfast and brings it over to the doorway. She then walks to the bathroom, and I can hear the water running as I guess she is cleaning that area the best she can.

Quite the dutiful woman she is.

“What’s going on in here?” Richard booms from the doorway. “Sinners!” he seethes.

I spin around and see wide eyes full of hate directed my way. I’m only wearing my pants as I haven’t had time to put my shirt on yet due to how long the buttons took on the pants, and I smirk. I know what he’s thinking.

Think it, motherfucker.

Imagine me fucking Ember as she cries out my name.

He takes a step into the room as I know he wants to charge toward me and strangle me with his bare hands, but he halts… not a stupid man. He remains in the doorway out of reach.

“Papa Rich…” Ember says, coming out of the bathroom. Her eyes glance at my bare chest, her mouth drops as her lower lip begins to tremble. She knows what he’s thinking too.

“Get over here now!” Richard demands. He points to the spot right beside him and as Ember quickly moves to obey, I stop her.

Placing my hand in front of her and pushing her behind me, I say, “No. She’ll be staying right where she is.”

“Ember, now!” he shouts as spittle spews from his chapped lips and his face reddens.

“I said no,” I repeat as I grab Ember by the arm in case she decides to try to make a run for it toward her father. Although, I also assume she isn’t thrilled about the idea of being within her father’s reach at the moment.

Regardless that I’m enjoying knowing the thought of me having sex or even being inappropriate with Ember is making the man go insane with anger, I also am not going to allow him to whip her