Embracing Fate: A Captive Hearts Novel Read online

  I didn’t resist as he slid the white dress over my hips and continued until it was above my head. My arms lifted—traitorous things. I made no move to fight him as he bared my nakedness to his penetrating gaze. The room tilted again as he cradled me in his arms and lowered me into the tub.

  The warm water felt like the embrace of heaven and helped to quiet my whole-body shudders. I felt ill. My skin wanted to crawl off my body. My head swam as I struggled to maintain awareness.

  He was the enemy. I needed to be strong in his presence.

  “Are you a user?”

  His gruff tone demanded a response, but I found myself too terrified to answer. I slid down in the tub, as if the clear water could hide what he could easily see. I wanted to disappear, but I was also insanely tired. Another yawn escaped me.

  He snapped his fingers in front of my face, making me startle and splash in the tub.

  “When I ask a question, you will answer me.” Harsh, his words made me jump.

  My wide stare met his and crashed against the hardness of his expression, breaking into a million pieces as my resolve disintegrated. I wrapped my arms around my bare breasts and bit at my lower lip. The pain helped me to focus, but my continued silence wasn’t appreciated.

  He slapped at my cheeks.

  Surprisingly light, the soft tapping forced me to blink and sit up. He wasn’t hitting to hurt me, but rather to get my attention. Out of everything I expected, kindness and concern had been the two furthest things from my mind.

  I blinked, trying to remember what he asked, but I came up blank.

  He leaned toward me, and I pulled back. “Are you a user?”

  His growl had me shaking my head.

  “You will use words to answer when I ask a question. Now, does that mean No you’re not a user or No, you don’t understand the question?”

  I shook my head again, and then realized he wouldn’t stop until I gave my answer. “No, I’m not a user.”

  His lips pressed together, and he sat on the wide edge of the tub. “First rule…”

  I tried to shrink away from his imposing presence, but the tub prevented that.

  He measured out his words, making certain I understood. To say I found him riveting would be an understatement. This wasn’t a man someone ignored, and I feared what would happen if I ever made him mad.

  “You answer with respect. No, Sir is the proper way to respond. Now Clara try that again.”

  I didn’t like him saying my name. It made this entire interaction entirely too personal. With the way his lids narrowed, any further hesitation would not be tolerated. I swallowed whatever pride I had and remembered the promise I made to myself.

  This man could have whatever he could take. The one thing he would never touch was my inner strength. Pride had nothing to do with my survival. I remembered my vow to fight only the battles I knew I could win.

  “I don’t use drugs, Sir. They mentioned juice.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

  The hard expression on his face softened. “I’m guessing they used heroin. It’s the easiest and most effective drug to make someone easy to control. Fortunately for you, that means the next few days won’t be as bad as they could be.”

  “What do you mean?” I didn’t like the matter-of-fact way he spoke about the next few days.

  His left eyebrow arched and those lips of his pressed together again. I was learning what that meant. I repeated my words, adding what I knew he wanted with emphasis on the one word that turned my stomach.

  “What do you mean, Sir?”

  “Very good, Clara. You’re a fast learner.” He leaned back, looking smug. “And I appreciate a girl who listens.”

  My fingers curled against my sides. He couldn’t see the impotent fists I formed, and I reminded myself not to ever let him see anger get the better of me. He already had too many weapons available to wield against me.

  The water in the tub continued to fill and was at the level of my waist. He glanced at the tub and his lips twisted. Without a word, he headed to the shower, disappearing inside for a moment before returning with body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.

  Breath staggered into me as another chill rippled down my spine. Another yawn escaped me, and I sneezed. My entire body felt like it had been put through the ringer. Which was odd. The bruising should be getting better.

  “They used heroin to drug you. That you’re not a regular user is good. You will suffer withdrawal, but it should be relatively mild.”

  I wanted to ask more, but this didn’t feel like a two-way conversation.

  “Are you hungry for more?”

  “No.” At the gleam in his eyes, I modified my answer. “No, Sir.”

  “I’m not talking about food.”

  “Oh.” I glanced down at the ripples in the water. My nakedness should make me feel self-conscious. Why was I so calm?

  I wasn’t calm.

  Every beat of my heart was a struggle not to scream and try to run. I felt fear, but found I wasn’t afraid of him.

  How could that be?

  He pulled a bucket out from beneath the sink. Taking his seat again, he filled the bucket with water. “Lean forward.”

  His command found me doing exactly as ordered. I leaned forward as he poured water over my head. I didn’t move as he repeated the process two more times.

  “Turn.” He made a circle with his finger, indicating what he wanted.

  Mutely, I turned until my back was against the side of the tub. Facing away, I bit at my lower lip as his deft fingers worked shampoo into my hair. Tension knotted my shoulders as his fingers dug into my scalp.

  It didn’t escape my notice that I was naked in a tub with my abductor so close and that every breath was filled with his intoxicating scent. It flooded my nostrils and wrapped around me, making me think things that didn’t make sense. A quick rinse and he worked conditioner into my hair.

  His strong fingers dug at pressure points in the base of my skull. An odd feeling overcame me as he saw to my needs, and a profound lethargy filled my entire being. I found myself slipping, snapping awake, and barely able to hold my lids open.

  Warm water sluiced down my skin and then my hair was being pulled up, tugged and twisted into a knot on top of my head. He wrapped a small towel around my head, then leaned down and scooped me out of the tub as if I weighed nothing. Without a care for getting his clothes wet, he settled me on my feet and methodically patted me down with the towel.

  His efforts were deliberate and completely nonsexual. As I wobbled on my feet, I found myself in his arms again as he carried me to bed.

  Soft and fluffy, he tucked me beneath the comforter. The lights dimmed and a tiny beep sounded. The door to my room opened and closed, leaving me to slip into my dreams.

  Instead of fear and insecurity, jade-green eyes and strong, deliberate fingers made me want forbidden things.

  Chapter 17

  The ache in my balls kept me up through the night, and that was after spewing my load in the shower after a hasty, and unfulfilling, rub-a-tug-tug session. I jerked off twice in the shower, thinking about Clara, and then again while sitting in bed.

  I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Even now, my dick throbbed, eager and ready, demanding that I oblige its hunger.

  The plan had been perfect. Manipulate Clara from afar. Gain her trust. Establish rapport. No touching! Get her to want me.

  The no touching rule went right out the window.

  It took what? One minute before my hands were all over her?

  The monster within demanded to taste her supple skin and see if it felt as soft as I imagined. It was all I could do to cage the raging beast and keep my touch clinical and detached while I held her last night.

  If you could call an instant raging erection clinically detached, then I performed superiorly. I was fucking hard for her again.

  Tilting my head back, my thoughts filled with everything Clara. My hand began a slow stroke along my shaft.

 
Granted, holding her hair while she puked wasn’t exactly forcing myself on her, but where had that tenderness come from?

  I’d been exquisitely kind.

  Why?

  That answer swirled deep in the sea of regret I carried with me each and every day. If I could make things up to Clara, reduce some of the trauma these next few months would bring, then maybe I could atone for some of my sins. At least, that was what I told myself as I twisted in bed with a boner thinking about Clara.

  Up close, she was even more radiant than from afar. Her silky hair curled around my fingers and made me think how amazing her cries would be when I twisted, pulled, and yanked.

  Images of putting her on all fours, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and arching her neck back while I rutted into her from behind played center stage during my shower where I tried to take the edge off—not once, but twice. And that edge? My dick was hard enough to cut through stone. I ached for her that bad.

  I may have blown my load, but my sexual frustration only intensified.

  After a long, restless night, my dick stood straight and proud, eager to feast upon Clara and slake its thirst in the sweet heat of her body. My plans were doomed to failure if I didn’t get a grip on my obsession.

  Clara.

  To obtain my goals, I needed to be what she expected and feared, at least up to a point. Her confusion over why I didn’t take her would be the key to making her mine.

  I pulled at my face, feeling the stubble of two days’ growth scratch against my palm. There really was no way to spare her the brunt of what would happen. I both hated and eagerly looked forward to the conquest.

  Chambers would bring her meals today while I retreated. My absence would trigger confusion and doubt. There were a lot of things about Ben Chambers I didn’t understand, but some were becoming clearer the longer I spent in his company.

  The man was deeply submissive, and gay. I sensed another’s hand in the mix. Someone directed my involvement from afar, and they did it through Chambers. This was something I would determine with time. As with Clara, I would not force the issue, but Chambers would reveal his secrets.

  The problem of Clara’s heroin withdrawal sent me to the internet for help. Many of the inmates who came into prison were high as kites during their intake.

  After twelve hours, the symptoms of heroin withdrawal manifested as their bodies craved more of the drug. The peak of withdrawal lasted anywhere from a day to three or four depending on how heavily they used, and it could take a week before the worst of withdrawal subsided.

  Fortunately, Clara wasn’t a user. That should help, but her abductors had been liberal in juicing all the girls. It made them compliant. Unfortunately, heroin was highly addictive and it sometimes took only one hit to make someone dependent on the drug.

  No doubt many of the new owners would continue to use heroin to enforce compliance in their slaves. Since I needed Clara to come to me of her own free will, maintaining her addiction didn’t play into my grand plan.

  I needed her clean.

  Fortunately, helping her through the worst of the withdrawal could work to my advantage. My research intensified, and I made a list of medications I might need to help with the symptoms detox would bring.

  Nausea would be problematic. The crash of emotions would be more difficult. I didn’t think I would need to use drugs to help her through the withdrawal process, but I would be ready.

  My plans for leaving her alone for the day, like my no touching rule, went out the window too.

  Again, I found myself thankful she had never used before. That would make the next week more bearable. I sent a list of what I needed to Chambers. He would get everything through whatever channels he controlled. In the meantime, I went to check on Clara to see how her night had gone. I expected she would be hitting the height of her withdrawal symptoms.

  Her door opened with a soft snick after the scanner verified my retinal pattern. After the auction, Chambers assisted me with the transfer of Clara. With her sedated and unaware, we flew her out of the country on a private jet to a chateau in the Alps.

  He’d given me the option of an isolated island or snow covered mountains. I wanted the outside environment to be inhospitable to an escape attempt and opted for snow over sand. Not that Clara could get free.

  She couldn’t exit the room without myself or Chambers to open the lock. If she managed to get free from either of us, the lack of suitable clothing and footwear would hamper any attempts to flee. In addition, there was no car or other form of transportation on the property. If one of us had to leave for any reason, we would have to call in a truck to take us out.

  This left all cleaning and other domestic chores to be split between Chambers and myself. To my surprise, he took over the roles of maid, cook, and security. That’s when I first began to suspect there was more to him than I first realized.

  Inside Clara’s room, the drapes remained closed. Clara huddled deep inside the fluffy comforter. I designed her room to be a place of comfort where she could rest and recover from the things we would do. Despite a slight sheen of sweat on her brow, sleep kept her tight in its grasp.

  Her sleep wasn’t restful, however, because she twisted and moaned beneath the covers. I pulled one of the padded leather chairs close, so I had a direct line of sight, and settled in to wait for her to wake.

  I read a chapter of the murder mystery Clara had started, intrigued by her choice of reading material. It wasn’t what I expected.

  A low groan pulled my attention back to the woman in bed. Clara pulled the sheets over her head as she cracked open one eye. Our gazes met and her lids pinched shut.

  “I thought it was a dream.” She pulled the covers over her head. “You’re a monster.”

  “You’re a monster, Sir,” I corrected.

  Today would be difficult for her.

  In the throes of withdrawal, I would lay down the reality of her new life. If she didn’t already, she would hate me by the end of the day.

  “Huh?” She pulled back the covers and squinted against the light.

  “Have you forgotten your first rule so soon?”

  “What rule?” In the middle of a pout, Clara ripped out a whole-body sneeze. There would be more of those over the coming days. Along with a litany of symptoms, she was about ready to live through hell.

  “Something you need to understand about me—”

  “Other than you being a monster?” Staring straight at me, she gave a deep yawn. “I slept like shit.”

  I held back a chuckle. This was going to be more fun than anticipated. Past mistakes aside, dominance burned in my veins. My entire psyche craved physical domination. Clara would have that and more, but I truly came alive in asserting my authority over a woman’s mind.

  “All right, this is probably a good time for several rules, first being that you never interrupt me when I speak. You listen and obey.”

  “I’m not a damn dog.”

  “No, you’re not. You, my dear Clara, are something else entirely.”

  Her glare could cut steel, but she surprised me by not speaking whatever was on her mind. I could guess any number of things, but they were all irrelevant.

  “You’re wrong.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and trembled as the reality of her situation once again settled back on her shoulders.

  To set the rules which would form the bedrock of our relationship, I made allowances for her momentary disorientation. We would circle back around to the important things several times during this day.

  “Am I?” I leaned forward, meeting her stare with determination and strength. This was a fact she would accept, willingly or not. “I would never treat you like an animal, my dear, but I will treat you as what you are.”

  Her head shook, but she had to face the truth. “No…”

  “Yes, and you’ll accept what you are until it becomes something you embrace. I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you are to me.”

  “I won’t.” I could see the re
st of her thoughts in the shimmering of tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m not…”

  It was too soon for her to admit to being a slave, but we would get there.

  I tapped the edge of the chair. The low rhythmic thumping drew her eye. She felt safe under that comforter, and we both knew she wore nothing beneath it. Her memory shouldn’t be foggy, even if the rest of her body fought the symptoms of withdrawal.

  I changed my tactics, remembering my bigger picture and what I wanted. Laying down the rules of our interactions was a necessary step, but that didn’t mean it needed to be the first one we took.

  Tenderness would be my greatest weapon in winning her mind, and hopefully earning the greatest prize a man could claim from a woman—willing submission.

  “We have much to discuss. You have been instructed to address me with respect. In everything which happens from here on out, you need to understand that you control your fate. Obey the rules and life will be easy, comfortable even. Ignore them, or flat out refuse to follow them, and there will be consequences.”

  “Consequences?”

  “Yes, like what you just earned there.”

  “Huh?”

  “And there…but let me help you out, before you get buried so deep in punishments there’s no escape from them. I assure you, I would rather indulge you than punish you. Although, there is something you need to know about sadists.”

  Her eyes widened at that comment and she drew back, covering more of her head.

  I approached the bed, watching her reactions closely. There was nowhere for her to run. She knew this and would have to decide how she would play this out. I anticipated she had already reasoned out most of this. She wouldn’t challenge me until, or unless, she thought she had a chance to escape.

  Without touching her, I sat beside her on the bed, intimating what could happen next. With a simple grab, I could yank the covers and expose her, then take what she expected. I had every intention of defiling her, but not until she begged.