that’s attached to the cuff around my ankle, and I give it a good tug. The metal jingles, and tears prickle my eyes. I am Kendrick’s slave. I’ll live here. I’ll die here. The only thing I wish for is that I’ll get to see Sebastian again. The terror in his eye when I told him that I had to go back to Kendrick so Sebastian’s life would be saved is something that will haunt me for all eternity.
I’ll carry his handsome, tormented face to my grave.
I glance around the room, eying the stone tower. It would be beautiful if the looming atmosphere wasn’t so daunting. The architecture, while haunting, is magnificent. The detail isn’t something that could be replicated.
To my left, there is a large window—barred, of course, to keep me from dropping out of it. Like I could; I have a leash on my ankle. The chain has enough slack for me to move around the room, but not enough to walk out the door.
Across the room is a small desk, where Kendrick allows me to draw to help pass the time. I have a sewing machine as well and an iron to make sure Kendrick’s suits are pristine, and if there was one wrinkle, I’ll pay the price.
I stand from the twin-sized bed and place my bare feet on the floor. The stone is cold in the mornings, but I always welcomed the quick freeze. It helps me wake up and figure out a way to survive the day. The moment I stop feeling the cold is when I’ll die, no matter how much I want to live. I have to cling to hope that Sebastian will find me.
He will.
He has to.
I stretch my arms over my head and gather the long strands of my black hair, twisting it until it’s tight enough for me to make a bun at the top of my head. Sebastian always liked it when I wore my hair up. He never said why; I guess he didn’t want to cross that line with me, but I always wondered what he liked about it.
If I could turn back time, I would, and I’d fall in love with Sebastian instead. Life doesn’t have a reset button, but it does give second chances in some capacity. My second chance at happiness is Sebastian, and I plan to live long enough to experience it.
Footsteps come from the hallway, echoing from wall to wall just like a grandfather clock. Keys clink, and my heart pounds with extra ferocity as the realization that Kendrick is on the other side of that door struck. I fall to the bed and roll to my side, then I reached behind my head and pull my hair down. If he sees it up, he’ll know I’m awake.
I close my eyes, faking sleep when the door slams open and hits the wall.
His feet have a slight drag as he walks. The sole of his shoes scratch against the floor and dust, matching the nervous tick of my heart. The bed dips from his weight, and his hand brushes my hair away from my face.
His touch is calloused, and whatever tenderness the man hold in his heart is a lie.
“Wake up, my sweet.” His voice is higher than Sebastian’s. While Sebastian’s is deep as the rivers in Spain and raspy like a good shot of whiskey, Kendrick’s holds a nasally pitch to it. It is dreadful.
`I pretend that his touch eases me awake by rubbing across my jawline. I flutter my eyelids open and stretch, then rub my eyes for added effect. His beady brown eyes stare down at me, and I want to vomit. He is nowhere near as handsome as Sebastian. Sebastian has bright blue eyes, the color of the sea on a bright summer’s day, but they both have the same dark hair, the color of ink and evil.
Only Sebastian is far from evil.
“There she is,” Kendrick purrs, roaming his hand down my neck until it stops just above my breasts.
I plaster on a sleepy smile and yawn, fear clutching my throat as I worry that he is going to grope me.
“I was thinking,” he says, pursing his lips.
Oh, be careful, Kendrick. You might burst a blood vessel in your brain.
“Would you like to go for a walk today? Go outside and get some fresh air? We can have brunch on the balcony that overlooks the ocean. What do you think?”