Crazy thing was, she believed that.
Didn't mean she doubted he would crush her like a bug the second he changed his mind.
Beginning to struggle in his hold, desperate to get away from him, away from this house, away from the unwanted feelings he stirred up inside her, Rose didn't even care that it was pointless. She hated this man almost as much as she hated her brother. He’d abducted her, tortured her, kissed her without her permission, and yet she sensed his genuine confusion and attraction to her.
There was also something about his dominance that made her wildly independent nature want to submit.
That thought alone was enough to have a few of those tears she’d tried so hard to keep buried trickling free. They felt like tiny icicles rolling down her cheeks, and it wasn't until this moment that her body seemed to remember it was freezing outside and she was in no way dressed to be out in the snow.
Mr. Bedroom Man cursed, tightening his hold on her, as she began to shiver. “Do you have to be so stubborn all the damn time? Even when I'm trying to help you?”
“Yes,” she snapped, making him laugh. The sound was beautiful, albeit a little rusty, and even in the near darkness, she could see that the hard lines of his face softened when he relaxed like that.
Why did she have to like it so much?
Why did he have to look more human when she needed to remember he was nothing more than a demon who had abducted her?
Okay, not a real demon, but he may as well be. What else would you call your captor who had grand plans of abusing you and then … not wanting you to die?
Rose knew fighting was utterly pointless so gave up, she had to do whatever it took to regain what strength she could. Another opportunity would present itself, and she had to be ready to take advantage of it when that happened.
Still a sense of desolation blanketed her as the house came into view. She wanted to be back in her colorful little home, surrounded by the things she loved that had meaning to her. It was a sad and lonely little life according to most people’s standards, but it was hers, and she’d fought hard for it.
When Mr. Bedroom Man stepped inside, the sudden warmth on her frozen skin made it feel like a thousand small, sharp knives stabbing into her, and she began to shiver harder, until her teeth chattered loudly enough that everyone could hear.
“How’s your little ladybug?” one of her captors asked with a smirk as Mr. Bedroom Man carried her into a large living room.
“Would you stop calling me his?” Rose snapped, annoyed with the whole situation, but mostly herself for not being stronger, smarter. “I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
“Not entirely true, is it, little ladybug,” Mr. Bedroom Man said, his voice low and husky, and when he set her down on one of the couches, her next shiver had nothing to do with her wacked out body temperature. “Right now, you belong to us. You're completely at our mercy.”
Since she was at least ninety percent sure they weren't going to gang rape her, Rose rolled her eyes at him, making him chuckle as he took the blanket someone passed him and tucked it around her.
One by one, the men trailed into the room, and she hated not having any names to put to their faces. Sure, she could make upnames, but them knowing hers when she didn't know theirs was just one more way they had an advantage over her.
Enough.
She was done with that.
They had her where they wanted her. Mr. Bedroom Man was right, she was completely at their mercy. Even if they didn't have some sort of superhuman skills, they were six big, muscled men, and she was one small woman. Yes, she had training, she could throw knives and shoot with perfect accuracy, but unless she got her hands on some weapons, she didn't stand a chance of getting out of there.
“I want answers. Now,” she added, her voice firm even though there were still little frozen tear tracks staining her cheeks, and she looked a wreck. She didn't have any power, but she was no pushover. A little crazy maybe, but not a pushover.
Glances were exchanged, and instead of anyone offering her any sort of response, Doctor Man, who wasn't really a doctor, strode over to kneel beside the couch.
“Running was stupid when you're in so much pain,” he told her, his tone rebuking, like he was talking to a recalcitrant child.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, I guess I should be a better hostage,” she said, injecting as much sarcasm as was humanly possible into her tone.
Five of the six men laughed, the other just shot her glares, and Rose decided then and there that he was her favorite. Maybe he looked at her like he’d prefer to snap her neck and be done with it, but at least he was honest about it. He wasn't playing with her emotions like the others seemed intent on doing, and she appreciated that.
“That would be helpful, little ladybug,” Mr. Bedroom Man told her as he lifted her legs and sat on the other side of the couch, resting her calves on his massive thighs and tucking the blanket around her.
The damn man was going to give her whiplash. And it drove her crazy not to have a name. Knowing she should be paying more attention to Doctor Man, who had picked up her arm and was setting up an IV, more than likely to kill her and finally put an end to this bizarre charade, she glared at Mr. Bedroom Man.
“If you don’t tell me your name right now, I'm going to?—”
“What?” he asked, interrupting her and smirking at her like her life was one great big joke to him. Which only infuriated her more. “What are you going to do, little ladybug.”
