CHAPTER 2
Luna
After Enzo left, closing the bedroom door without a word, I rushed the bars, shaking the fucking things until I nearly pulled my arms from the sockets. I knew it wouldn’t do any good, but I couldn’t stop myself. When they wouldn’t budge, fear rose up inside of me, twisting and turning in my gut until I thought I was going to puke.
Exhausted and still reeling from the effects of whatever the hell kind of drugs he’d given me, I stumbled back a few steps and fell hard on my ass. I looked down at the natural wood pattern of the floor in a sort of stupor, then I shivered as the A/C kicked on, cooling the fine sheen of sweat that covered my face and arms. Why was it so fucking cold in here? Scooting backward, I found the blanket I’d dropped and wrapped it around my shoulders. It wasn’t a bed, but at least it was soft and warm.
I don’t know how long I sat there, huddled beneath the blanket on the floor, when the bedroom door opened again and Tristan came in carrying a plate and a glass of water. He glanced over atme briefly, then set them on the small table by the lamp before leaving again.
My stomach growled loudly, and I rose to my feet, a little more gracefully this time. Whatever it was, it smelled fucking delicious. Or maybe I was just really hungry.
The door opened again, and this time he had a pair of handcuffs. I watched him approach the cell.
“Put your hands through the bars.”
I eyed the cuffs in his hand distrustfully. “Why?” My voice was dry and scratchy from screaming.
“Because I’m going to handcuff you to them so I can bring in your dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I won’t try anything. I promise.”
“Hands,” was all he said.
I was tempted to refuse, but the food smelled so good, and he hadn’t done anything to physically harm me. Not yet.
Was that steak?
I blew out a hard breath. Fuck it.
Pulling the blanket up around my shoulders more so it wouldn’t fall off, I walked up to the bars and stuck my hands through them.
Tristan closed a cuff around one wrist, and then the other, just tight enough that I couldn’t slip out of them, but not so tight that they hurt. But instead of bringing in my breakfast, he gently took my fingers and turned my hand so it was palm up. Then he did the same to the other one. “What did you do to your hands?”
Tearing my eyes away from his face, I glanced down at my hands. My palms and fingers were bright red from gripping the bars so hard. “I tried to break out,” I confessed without shame.
I felt, more than saw, the way he stiffened. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I don’t want to be in here. I don’t want to be your fucking prisoner.”
His dark eyes clashed with mine. I tried to read what he was thinking, but of course it was no use.
“You’re not a prisoner,” he told me. “You’re my guest. Don’t try that again.”
I didn’t bother to argue with him, but he was fucking crazy if he thought I was just going to happily live my life in this cage for his amusement. Then I almost laughed, because hewasfucking crazy. Anyone who locks another person up in a cage has some serious issues. I just hoped he could handle his better than Gino.
My silence seemed to bother him, but eventually, he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door to the cell. Then he picked up the plate and the glass of water and brought them inside, setting both on the floor just inside the door. My eyes followed that plate of food as far as I could. Itwassteak. And little baby red potatoes.
“Do I have to eat off the floor like an animal?” I asked him, staring straight ahead again. The floor was actually really clean, as was the bathroom. I wondered what the rest of the house looked like. Or was it even a house? I mean, I assumed it was, but for all I knew, I could be in the middle of a warehouse or something, like a fish in a fishbowl.
“For now. I apologize that this room isn’t more comfortable.”
He sounded distracted, and I noticed he didn't offer to do anything tomakeit more comfortable for me. Against my better judgement, I peered over my shoulder. Tristan was still sitting on his haunches, and he was staring at the floor behind me. I tried to see what he was looking at, but it was impossible with my hands cuffed to the bars. With a sigh of impatience, I faced forward again. “What are you staring at?”
The blanket was yanked from my shoulders, and I jumped. “Hey!” His hands were on my arms, feeling down my back and sides to my ass and legs. I tried to kick him. “Stop it!” I told him. “Get your hands off me!”
My efforts to get him away from me were useless. “Why is there blood on the floor?”
That got my attention. I stopped kicking. “What?”
