It takes a few tries for me to get the phone’s flashlight to come on, and when it does, the light isn’t really worth the trouble. I walk to the edge of the grass illuminated by the patio light, staring with my light out into the trees beyond. From what I can see, there’s nothing else here. No other houses, and nothing except what looks like a sea of trees.
Curiously, I pull up my location on my phone, though the lack of service means that I just get a continuous loading screen as it tries and tries to triangulate where I might be. The longerI stare at it and the one bar of service that blinks in and out of existence, the more nausea rises like claws in my throat. I take a breath and let it out, closing my eyes as the wind ruffles my hair. Absently, I reach up to tangle my fingers in the strands, shoving it back from my face as the breeze threatens to make a mess of it. Though I’m sure I don’t look great after nearly an hour in the trunk of Larkin’s fucking car.
I could leave.
The thought hits me, and my hand freezes with my fingers scraping against my scalp on another pass through my shoulder-length hair. I could run off into the trees, or go down the driveway. In the complete, utter darkness, I don’t see how Larkin would have an easy time finding me. We’d be on even ground, at the very least, and there have to be a few rocks I could use as a weapon, if it came down to it.
But for some reason, I can’t take that final step into the darkness at the edge of the yard. My phone’s light barely makes a dent in it, and less than three feet in front of me, the white light is swallowed up by the darkness like it’s a solid, living thing.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I turn to look over my shoulder, not too surprised to see Larkin on the patio, though I hadn’t heard him come outside. Bathed in white light, I can see every line of his tall form, from his crossed arms to his similarly crossed ankles as he leans against one of the decorative columns. He’s watching me, unspeaking, and when I meet his gaze, he does that little head tilt that signals he’s curious.
This time, I’m silent because I don’t know what to say to him. A few snarky quips come to mind, but they never make it to my tongue as we stare at each other in the darkness, with only the sound of the wind through the branches for company. My hands drop to my sides, fingers clenching and unclenching, while I try to figure out what to say.
“Are you leaving?” The question sounds so mild. He almost soundsbored, like he couldn’t care what my answer is. He even nods towards the trees, as if to offer me the option.
I look back into the darkness, unsure what the greater danger is. Part of me is sure the trees hold safety, while this house holds anything but.
Another part of me, however, can’t imagine going anywhere except where he tells me to go. At least for tonight.
“Would you let me?” I ask at last, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet before settling back to stand more balanced. “Or would you hunt me down in the forest like prey?”
“I wouldn’t need to,” he replies cheerfully, with a brilliant smile suddenly flashing on his lips. “You’d have a hard time getting home. Even if you tried to follow the road.” The certainty in his voice sends a ripple of unease through me, and I break his gaze to glare at the grass between us.
Then, without a word, I walk back up onto the patio, my steps slow and unsure. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t goad or taunt or hurry me along. Larkin just stands there, eventually holding out one hand for me to take.
It doesn’t feel like a question or a request. His fingers curl and I immediately lift mine once I’m close enough and my phone is back in my pocket, light off. His palm is warm under mine, and he wastes no time twining our fingers together before pulling me to him until I’m so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his body like a furnace.
I hate how easy it is to fall into him like this.
Distracted, I let him lead me into the small, well-appointed cabin in the woods, my skin prickling like I’m in danger.
“Where’s Dale?” I whisper, looking around the space inside. It’s bigger on the inside than I expected it to be, with a loft above that might be a bedroom, and a kitchen connected to the living room with no walls between. The only open door off the mainspace seems to be a bathroom, and a soft, warm light shows me it’s nicer than most cabins could ever be.
My gaze roams the cabin as Larkin closes and locks the door. While a few lights cast a warm glow across the cabin, it’s the large, saltwater tank between the living room and kitchen that draws my eye first. Another door sits closed, off to one side of the kitchen and looking rather suspicious. Under normal circumstances, it would be innocuous. It wouldn’t even be noticeable. But given tonight’s events so far…
Well, my eyes land on the door and stay there, as if magnetized. “What are we doing?” I whisper. “Where’s?—”
Larkin kisses me suddenly, cutting me off. He jerks me against him to grip my hips in both of his hands, his fingers curling, sinking into my curves. I yelp against his lips when I feel teeth and instinctively roll up to the balls of my feet to kiss him back.
The moment my fingers brush his hair, however, Larkin steps back with a rueful grin and a huff, eyes closed. “We have a game to play,” he tells me slowly, raking a hand through his hair. “I absolutely want to playthisgame with you too. Just not right now.”
“You really like games, don’t you?” I sigh, my voice thoughtful. Larkin only looks at me for a moment before he turns, and as I watch, he carefully places my box cutter on the kitchen counter. Without thinking, I dart forward, my fingers curling around it, and he doesn’t stop me from grabbing the weapon or pocketing it again with my hand clasped to it.
“Don’t be so desperate.” He goes to the door beside the fridge and undoes the latch holding it shut before gesturing for me to go through. “I won’t take it from you again. Not right now, anyway.” With the door open, I tread down the stairs, feeling Larkin just a few steps behind me.
Whatever I expected to find, the basement of the cabin doesn’t check any of my mental boxes. It’s clean, almost obsessively so, and the lights overhead are warm, instead of cold or sterile.
A noise makes me whirl around, and on the far wall, I see Dale writhing and jerking on a chain that binds his leg to a bathtub, though he has a few feet of leeway to make a scene. “Let me go!” Dale yells, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. “H-hey you’re from the bar. You’re umm…” He visibly searches his mind for my name, and that alone is enough to make me distance myself from him, even if it’s only mentally. Belatedly I realize his arms are cuffed in front of him, rendering him unable to use his hands for much of anything.
“Tova,” Larkin interjects from behind me. “Her name is Tova.” There’s amusement and scorn in his words, though he chuckles like he’s reacting to some inside joke. “You were in that bar with her for thirty minutes, and you didn’t learn her name? Well”—he gives me an apologetic smile—“you didn’t exactly learn his, either. How pathetic.” Larkin lets out a put-on sigh, and my hand tightens around the box cutter. “Both of you were just using the other for purely selfish means. I know whatshewants.” His hand comes up to cup the front of my throat, and he forces me to look back at Dale. “Tell us what you wanted with her. Tell us your plan, all of those filthy thoughts in your head, Dale. Be honest with me, and I’ll consider letting you go. But only if you’re honest.”
Something in his words feels like a warning. As if he knows more than he’s letting on. Though I don’t know how that could be possible, given that I never met Dale before tonight.
Dale looks at the ground, and yanks on the chain again. “Come on, man,” he pleads, his nose twitching and his mustache moving right along with it. “Can’t you just give me a break? I didn’t do nothin’ to you. Either of you.”
“I told you what we wanted. You want that too, right?” Larkin adds, his nose brushing against my ear. He’s such a solid, warm weight at my back that I could mistake him for comfort. But anytime I move, even slightly, his grip tightens around me, letting me know that his arms aren’t here for support.
They’re to keep me from escaping.
