But that was years ago. And a promise to a foot soldier couldn’t have meant a whole lot to a crime boss.
The door creaked open.
I blinked, lifting my head as much as I could, and watched as my captor filled the doorway. He was a foot taller than me and strong. I’d never physically be able to take him down. And if he kept me drugged, I wouldn’t be able to do much at all.
Light outlined his body from the outside room, creating a sort of halo around his head. I squinted, used to the dark now, and when he closed the door, I saw his face again—saw that mask. A skull. Death. As if he were death.
I made a small sound, and my body instinctively tried to pull back. Tried. Nothing much happened, though. Nothing but him stepping closer, chuckling. He must have seen the attempt. He seemed to see everything.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, and when I saw the bottle of water in his hand, I opened my mouth, realizing how dry it was, how thirsty I was.
I couldn’t pull away or cover myself when his gaze raked over me, but when he reached into his pocket and produced a key that he used to unbind my wrists, all I felt was grateful.
“Really need to get you washed.”
He twisted the lid off the bottle, and I swallowed in anticipation. But then he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long sip, emptying half of it. I wanted to cry. I may have even, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Thirsty?” he asked.
I blinked.
“I like you like this, you know? You’re kind of sweet when you’re not talking.”
Then he raised my head and held it as he brought the water to my lips and gave me two small sips before setting the bottle aside and standing.
“All right.”
He tugged his shirt off. It looked strange, his chest bare but him wearing that mask covering his face. In the dimly lit room, I saw he had a tattoo on part of his chest and down one arm. I couldn’t make out the shape, though. It was just shadow.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I barely had a chance to look at him before he hauled me up and carried me into the bathroom. My face bobbed against his muscular chest as he carried me, the skin soft, his scent clean, enticing even—or it would be if I wasn’t being held against my will. There was something else too. The scent was almost familiar. Was it an aftershave someone I knew wore? I couldn’t place it.
“This is probably going to be a little cold at first.”
I gasped when he set me into the freezing tub, but my head lolled to the side, and I lay there, shivering, unable to move. He pulled up a chair from the corner and sat. I watched his eyes as he took me in, traveling over the length of me. I tried to cover myself, managing to place a hand over my mound—or close enough to it I could pretend I shielded myself.
“Now, now.”
He turned on the taps. I tried to pull back at the rush of icy water that gurgled out. It sounded like no one had bathed here in a very long time.
“None of that,” he finished, pushing my hand away. “We’re going to get very intimate, you and I.”
I groaned and half turned on my side. I watched as his gaze again fell on the scab at my hip where Victor had branded me.
The water warmed, and he closed the drain to let the tub fill up. He then picked up a washcloth and a bar of soap that sat on the edge of the tub.
I made some sound of rebellion.
“It’s clean,” he said, holding up the square of cloth. “Relatively.”
I must have made a face because he laughed outright.
“Just kidding. Christ, lighten up, princess.”
Princess.Victor had called me that a few times. He’d picked it up from Mateo. But the way he said it made my skin crawl.
“Stop,” I said, the word coming out slurred.
