My acrylic nails tear off with the force of me trying to free myself, then flashing lights dance across my eyes. I gasp for air, desperately trying to suck oxygen into my lungs but to no avail. The lights flash faster, and then there’s nothing. Just blackness.
“That’s my girl,” is the last thing I hear Asher say as my knees give in, and he lowers us both to the ice-cold basement floor.
Chapter Four
Cold.
The only thing that permeates my mind when I come to is how cold it is. I slowly open my eyes, confused at first, but the minute I take in my surroundings, I remember what happened. My eyes snap wide open, and I try to sit up, but I’m yanked back against the pillows as chains snag on the wrought-iron bed frame, the metal biting into my skin.
“Ouch, fuck!” As the words leave my mouth, I swallow hard. It feels like I chugged a mug of razor blades. Bringing my hands slowly to my throat so I don’t hurt myself again, I press my fingers to my neck and feel the tenderness where bruises have formed on my skin.
What the fuck is happening here?
My eyes scan the room, looking for Asher—for some kind of explanation as to what the hell is going on—but he’s not here. Panic surges through me as I try to figure out what the situation is, but my head still feels kind of loopy.
Why did Asher do this to me?
I tug on the chains, knowing that my efforts are probably futile, but I have to do something. Maybe things aren’t as they seem? Maybe this is just Asher’s sick idea of foreplay. Except this feels way too real, and way too wrong to be about Asher amping up our sex life.
The door to the basement opens, and I hear footsteps making their way down the stairs. My stomach twists as Asher comes into view moments before he steps off the last step and smiles at me, tray in hand.
“I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up, so I fixed you some chicken soup and toast. I don’t imagine you’ll manage the toast, but you should get the soup in.” He walks over to the bed, and I sit up further against the pillows, ignoring the now ever-present sting of the chains as they dig into my already beaten-up wrists.
Asher places the tray over my legs; there’s a forest green vase with an artificial daisy sticking out of it. The daisy is dusty in places, and I briefly wonder if any of that dust got into the soup.
Why the hell do I care if dust got into my soup? I’m chained to a bed, for God’s sake.
“What’s going on?” My voice is raspy, like I have the flu.
Asher stands and reaches for the pillows next to me to prop behind my back. “Is that better? More comfortable?”
“Asher! This isn’t funny. Let me go!”
I know it’s not a joke. This is the farthest thing from a joke, but my brain wants me to believe it is. Trying to figure out what’s happening is giving me a headache.
“I brought you dinner, silly.” Asher smiles at me as though this is just like all the other times he’s brought me breakfast in bed. It’s the same easy smile he always gives me, but there’s something in his eyes that is screaming a warning.
“Asher, I’m being dead fucking serious. You better let me go, right now.”
“Why’s that, Raine?” he asks with a tilt of his head. “Because you say so? Well, I’m done with being your little plaything. Your toy to use and discard whenever you see fit.”
I yank on the chains now, not caring how they knock against my wrist bone and send a shooting pain all the way to my elbow.
“Stop this right fucking now. Right now!”
Panic makes my voice way more forceful than I could ever have managed with the way my body is trembling. I look down at my clothes.
What the hell? Where did my sweats go? Why the fuck did Asher put me back in my concert clothes—a layered gray leather skirt and white tank. The tank is see-through and held together at the sides with safety pins instead of cotton.
“I think you should eat something. You know how grouchy you get when you’re hungry.”
Frustration rises with the panic, and I sit up once more. “Let…me…go!” I scream.
“Careful now. You’ll damage those pretty little vocal cords if you aren’t careful.”
“Asher, please. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Asher scoops up a spoon of soup and blows on the hot liquid before bringing it to my lips. I clamp my mouth shut, and he clucks his tongue. “I thought you were smarter than this, baby. You’re really going to need your strength for what I have in store for you.”
He places the spoon back in the bowl and scoops up the tray, setting it on the floor next to the bed. When he turns to face me again, everything I once recognized and told me I knew him, is gone.
Reaching behind his neck, Asher pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. I always loved that move. Watching Asher undress was just about all the foreplay I needed. His muscles would bunch as he moved his body, and I would find my body heating with the need for him to be over me. Or under me. Or whatever we were in the mood for.
“You know, Raine, I hope you appreciate the restraint I’ve shown all these years. Being your little fuck toy when I wasn’t even the one you wanted—that took massive restraint. But I knew I had to bide my time, and I’m so glad I did. Your sister—or whoever she was to you—gave me a great idea when she sent you the letter about greed. I saw you looking at it one night. It was such a fucking clever idea, I can’t believe I didn’t
