Just as she was contemplating the possibilities, she heard a clicking from the door above. Arkdone looked to fly as he leaped into the room. “It’s time for you to come with me, dear.”
Without asking, he just grabbed Meg’s weakened body. Blood still stained her shirt from the last time she crossed him, but that’s not what stilled her immediate need to maim the monster who dared touch her. What stopped her from fighting the monster like a ferocious cat was the thought of getting too close to Maze, who had just gained enough strength to open his eyes and whimper.
His hot breath washed her face with its bile and sulfuric stench. “I have great plans for you my lovely little trophy.” He turned and jumped easily across the ten-foot expanse of the room and up to the ledge. Meg looked back as she flew in the arms of the devil to see her Maze lift his head, watching her leave him again. Hot, salty tears stung her exhausted eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Not now. Not in the arms of this monster. I will never cry for you, she seethed inside.
“The others have already assembled, but I saved the best for last,” he squeezed her affectionately. “You, my dear need a moment to freshen up. I’ve prepared a bath for you myself. Come, I’ll show you.”
Still carrying her in his arms, he walked leisurely through his sick industrial-looking castle home. Meg was too weak to fight now, something about being touched all over by the pure evil that was Arkdone drained her. She even felt too exhausted to stop her body from moving against Arkdone’s, however rigid she wanted to be. His right arm wrapped around her back, his hand holding her under her right arm. His left hand hooked under her knees. She definitely weighed less than her usual one-hundred-twenty-pounds as she and the others usually had to eat a lot of quality food—their powerful bodies demanding more than a human to function properly.
She’d had no food or drink in far too long. Arkdone was speaking and Meg knew she should be paying attention, but her mind, foggy with exhaustion and fear was having a hard time focusing.
“…My personal quarters. Fresh towels and clothes, including undergarments, are waiting for you on the sink. I would be glad to stay and help you.” Arkdone feigned an innocent expression, as though he had nothing but the purest of intentions. Meg knew better. She could feel it oozing off him with every beat of that merciless heart.
She shook her head, as he sat her on the edge of the tub and knelt before her, watching her recoil from his large, hot hands on the thighs. “N-no, thank you. I can manage.”
Arkdone’s shoulders shrugged as if to say, “your loss.”
“Please, don’t dawdle. Your family is waiting for you and I doubt they’re very comfortable in their current situations. I’ll be just outside the door, so call if you need me,” he smiled, showing perfectly straight, whitened teeth that seemed to morph into razor-sharp fangs. Meg blinked hard trying to clear the disorientation. When she looked back up, Arkdone was stepping out of the large master bathroom and closing the door behind him. “Notice there is no lock on this door.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Soon you will see how pointless your efforts have been to keep your secrets from me.” He nodded knowingly and closed the door behind him.
Meg leaned forward and slid off the edge of the elaborate bathtub already full and steaming up the room. She crawled as fast as she could to the sink and yanked the under-cabinet open. It was empty. She used the granite countertop to pull herself up. Though her legs shook uncontrollably, she braced herself by leaning over the sink to search the cabinets there. They were empty, too. How does someone live in a place and have nothing in the bathroom cabinets? She was desperate to find a razor blade or a pair of tweezers…anything to use as a weapon. Instead, she got cabinets full of nothing and a glimpse of herself in the steamy mirror.
She looked like a ghost.
“Tick-tock, Meg! Tick-tock!” Arkdone called through the door.
Flinching at the sound of his voice, Meg slipped her hand to the button of her jeans and with shaking fingers, unbuttoned herself. She yanked the zipper down and used that one hand to pull the denim over her slim, muscular hips. Half naked, she crawled back to the tub, unclasped her bra and yanked her grime and blood-caked T-shirt over her head. As quickly as her shaky legs would allow, she climbed into the bathtub and cursed herself for moaning aloud at the joy of feeling the water wrap her deeply in its warmth. She slipped under the water, to muffle her small sounds of pleasure at the feel. She leaned up and used her delicate hands to smooth the excess water from her face.
That’s when the door opened.
“Did you call?”