Read Online Deadly Captive by Bianca Sommerland - Free Book Online
Authors: Bianca Sommerland
Tags: Horror, Paranormal, BDSM, Vampires, torture, paranormal erotic romance, forced seduction, Assassins, Abduction, Exhibitionism, Amnesia, imprisonment
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sweet liquor that reminded me of some kind of nut. "Thank you, but what I wanted to say—" I inhaled roughly, trying to hide how much talking hurt.
Joe gave me another mouthful, tenderly stroking back my hair. "Shh. Don't talk, Lydia. Just eat, and then get some rest. It'll take a while, but you'll get better." His words seemed as much for himself as for me, as though he thought, if he said it out loud, he could make it come true.
"Yes, but I need your help. Just . . . ." I paused, inhaling slowly to minimize the pain. "Talk to me. Tell me about your past or . . . ." I closed my eyes, fighting back tears.
When I opened my eyes, I saw an expression of doubt and sympathy pass over Joe's face. Brow furrowed, he remained silent for a moment, then smiled and nodded.
"How 'bout I tell you a story?"
I lifted the corners of my mouth. My body jerked. God, it hurt. "Just not Hansel and Gretel. Never liked that one."
Joe seemed pleased by the admission. I realized now, any memory, no matter how vague and obscure, even the memory of a fairy tale, encouraged us both. It meant maybe, just maybe, one day I'd remember everything.
"I'll assume that means no other stories with cannibalistic undertones," he said, knowing me well enough to understand why I found the story so unpleasant. With a thoughtful look, Joe moved to sit at the end of the bed, sliding back so he could rest against the wall. "How about The Taming of the Shrew ?" I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed.
I blinked as something hinted at my mind. "I like Shakespeare." Drawing in a shaky breath, I wet my lips with my tongue. "Not that one though."
He nodded. "Do you remember Romeo and Juliet ?" I nibbled at my lip and he shrugged. "Well, it's one of the more famous ones. I'll tell you that one. It might jog your memory, and, since I'm such a lousy story teller, it's guaranteed to put you to sleep."
I wanted to smile, to laugh, but I resisted the urge. Letting my body sink heavily into the mattress, I watched Joe's eyes take on a far-off look, like he was trying to figure out where to start.
"Well, once upon a time . . . ." He winked at me, and I knew my eyes shone in response because he seemed much more at ease when he continued. "There were these two families—the Montagues and the Capulets. The head of each family was a powerful man, sort of like a don. These men were enemies, and so their families were enemies.
When they met on the street, there would be fights over stupid stuff. The first one mentioned is because one guy bit his thumb at another. I can only assume back then, biting your thumb was like giving someone the finger today."
The sound of Joe's voice as he recounted the story was soothing. As I lay still, the pain began to subside, and I knew sleep would come. At first, I fought it, enjoying Joe's obvious twist on the tale— très drole with his quirky comments—but the needs of my body won out. Still, even though I regretted not hearing the end of the story, I was satisfied. I'd taken some of the weight of guilt from Joe, a weight our captors would use to break him.
Before, I hadn't thought I had the power to thwart them. Now, I knew I did.
* * * * *
I felt the wind, actually felt it. Standing tall, I held out my arms, turning around and around, letting the flow of it surround me, breathing deep to let it fill me. Joe chuckled nearby.
"You keep turning like that, and you're gonna fall."
I stopped turning and caught my breath. I was standing at the edge of a rocky cliff. With an exaggerated little shriek, I threw myself into Joe's arms.
"Can we stay here, Joe?" I looked up at him.
Joe smiled. "Sure." He kissed my forehead and stepped back, reaching behind him to pull out a sword. "As soon as we kill them all."
My hand tightened around something, and I looked down to see that I held a sword in my white-knuckled grasp. "Kill them. Yes, I like that idea very much."
Joe's hand was suddenly on my shoulder, his grip almost painful. "You need
Joe gave me another mouthful, tenderly stroking back my hair. "Shh. Don't talk, Lydia. Just eat, and then get some rest. It'll take a while, but you'll get better." His words seemed as much for himself as for me, as though he thought, if he said it out loud, he could make it come true.
"Yes, but I need your help. Just . . . ." I paused, inhaling slowly to minimize the pain. "Talk to me. Tell me about your past or . . . ." I closed my eyes, fighting back tears.
When I opened my eyes, I saw an expression of doubt and sympathy pass over Joe's face. Brow furrowed, he remained silent for a moment, then smiled and nodded.
"How 'bout I tell you a story?"
I lifted the corners of my mouth. My body jerked. God, it hurt. "Just not Hansel and Gretel. Never liked that one."
Joe seemed pleased by the admission. I realized now, any memory, no matter how vague and obscure, even the memory of a fairy tale, encouraged us both. It meant maybe, just maybe, one day I'd remember everything.
"I'll assume that means no other stories with cannibalistic undertones," he said, knowing me well enough to understand why I found the story so unpleasant. With a thoughtful look, Joe moved to sit at the end of the bed, sliding back so he could rest against the wall. "How about The Taming of the Shrew ?" I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed.
I blinked as something hinted at my mind. "I like Shakespeare." Drawing in a shaky breath, I wet my lips with my tongue. "Not that one though."
He nodded. "Do you remember Romeo and Juliet ?" I nibbled at my lip and he shrugged. "Well, it's one of the more famous ones. I'll tell you that one. It might jog your memory, and, since I'm such a lousy story teller, it's guaranteed to put you to sleep."
I wanted to smile, to laugh, but I resisted the urge. Letting my body sink heavily into the mattress, I watched Joe's eyes take on a far-off look, like he was trying to figure out where to start.
"Well, once upon a time . . . ." He winked at me, and I knew my eyes shone in response because he seemed much more at ease when he continued. "There were these two families—the Montagues and the Capulets. The head of each family was a powerful man, sort of like a don. These men were enemies, and so their families were enemies.
When they met on the street, there would be fights over stupid stuff. The first one mentioned is because one guy bit his thumb at another. I can only assume back then, biting your thumb was like giving someone the finger today."
The sound of Joe's voice as he recounted the story was soothing. As I lay still, the pain began to subside, and I knew sleep would come. At first, I fought it, enjoying Joe's obvious twist on the tale— très drole with his quirky comments—but the needs of my body won out. Still, even though I regretted not hearing the end of the story, I was satisfied. I'd taken some of the weight of guilt from Joe, a weight our captors would use to break him.
Before, I hadn't thought I had the power to thwart them. Now, I knew I did.
* * * * *
I felt the wind, actually felt it. Standing tall, I held out my arms, turning around and around, letting the flow of it surround me, breathing deep to let it fill me. Joe chuckled nearby.
"You keep turning like that, and you're gonna fall."
I stopped turning and caught my breath. I was standing at the edge of a rocky cliff. With an exaggerated little shriek, I threw myself into Joe's arms.
"Can we stay here, Joe?" I looked up at him.
Joe smiled. "Sure." He kissed my forehead and stepped back, reaching behind him to pull out a sword. "As soon as we kill them all."
My hand tightened around something, and I looked down to see that I held a sword in my white-knuckled grasp. "Kill them. Yes, I like that idea very much."
Joe's hand was suddenly on my shoulder, his grip almost painful. "You need
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