Submitting to the Shadow (Kindred Tales #27) - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,65

funny business, understand?”

“Of course not.” Sammi swallowed. “I’ll just…just get ready for our date. That’s all.”

She hated to do it, but it seemed to her that her best chance of getting out of this alive might be to play to his fantasy. If she kept on denying it, it would only make him angry and mistrustful of her.

It seemed she had said the right thing because her captor nodded approvingly.

“I’m glad you’re starting to see things my way, Beautiful.”

He fished a set of handcuff keys out of one pocket of his ragged jeans and leaned down to unlock her. Sammi couldn’t help thinking that the dirty jeans and stained T-shirt he was wearing were in definite contrast to the fancy dress-up clothes he’d commanded her to wear.

After unlocking the handcuffs, he held them up.

“These will go back on if you’re not nice to me, Beautiful. Understand?”

Thinking of what “being nice” to him might entail made Sammi’s stomach do a slow forward roll but she only nodded.

“Yes, of course… Er…what should I call you?” she added, wondering if she would get his full name.

He frowned. “You don’t need my name. For now, you can just call me Sonny.”

“Sunny as in sunshine?” Sammi asked, frowning.

“No—as in son. You know—Sonny-boy.” He smiled at her, showing those crooked teeth again. “That’s what you can call me, Beautiful.”

“You can…can call me Sammi, if you want,” Sammi offered in a dry voice. She was still hoping to get him to see her as a human being—not just an object to play with. Maybe if he used her name it would help.

But her captor only shook his head.

“Nah, you’re Beautiful,” he said firmly. “Just like all the others.”

“All…all the others?” Sammi could barely get the words out. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know—all my other dates.” He winked at her. “But don’t worry, Beautiful—you’re the most important and special of all. I’ve never spent so much time trying to get to know a date as I spent on you.” He frowned. “Money too. Traveling from the West Coast to the East Coast and setting up a whole new hideout for dates isn’t cheap, you know.”

He said it as though it was Sammi’s fault that stalking and kidnapping her had turned out to be an expensive proposition.

“I’m, er, sorry,” she said, feeling both ridiculous and terrified.

“That’s all right—our date tonight will make it all worth it.” He jerked his head at the pile of clothes on the bed. “Now get dressed so we can start our date.”

“While you watch?” Sammi asked, feeling sick. “Can’t I please have a little privacy?”

He grinned at her.

“You forget, Beautiful, I’ve already seen you naked—many times. Remember those pictures I sent you?”

Sammi remembered the pictures that had popped up on her phone from the anonymous, untraceable number—pictures of herself naked in the shower.

“I remember,” she said, feeling sick all over again. “But, well…don’t you think it’s better if…if you’re surprised by how I look when I’m all dressed up? I mean, like a bride on her wedding day,” she explained, seeing the confused look on his face. “The, uh…the groom isn’t supposed to see her until she’s all ready to go.”

Comparing herself to a bride and her captor to a groom was awful, but she was desperate not to change in front of him—not to let him see her naked. Never mind if he had seen her before—at least then she hadn’t known he was watching. The idea of stripping in front of him made her want to vomit.

At least her words seemed to have done some good. She saw dawning comprehension in his small, black eyes.

“Oh, right—I understand. You want to get all pretty for me.”

“Right,” Sammi said, having an inspiration. “And since I’m going to get dressed up for you, don’t you think you should return the favor…Sonny?” she added, hoping that using his name would help convince him. “After all, when you go out on a…on a date, you want to look your best, right?”

For a moment she thought her words had backfired because his face grew dark with a scowl.

“You saying I’m not looking my best, Beautiful? Don’t you know you’re supposed to love me, no matter how I look? That’s the way good mothers do—they love their sons no matter what!”

For a moment Sammi just stared at him, processing the strangeness of this statement. Was he living out some kind of Oedipal fantasy here—was that why he had asked her to call him “Sonny”? And maybe the