I glanced to Six, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me, just stared straight ahead. It even hurt to swallow, so I pulled down the vanity mirror to check my tonsils. I really hoped I wasn’t coming down with something.
The reflection that greeted me was not pretty. My hair was a rat’s nest, and my eyes were bloodshot from crying. How long had I been out?
I rubbed my throat again, then moved my hand. My mouth popped open as I stared at the bruises that covered my skin.
An almost perfect shadow of a hand.
Oh.
“Were you trying to kill me?”
He stayed silent, but the hand he had on the wheel flexed, tightening.
“How close did you get?”
His lip curled up. “Don’t even fucking tempt me right now.”
“Why did you stop?”
He didn’t say anything more, but continued brooding in his probably violent fantasies. So we drove. After a while, I realized I had to have been out for at least four hours. Based on the direction of the sun, we were headed north
Six was an asshole, a bastard in a god's body, and I hated him. So, why didn't I just run? Why didn’t I grab Digby’s hand and run? He was going to kill me anyway, so why put it off any longer? Why was I letting him drag me all over the planet and letting him fuck me whenever and however he wanted?
The last one was easy, because as much as I despised him and the situation he put me in, I craved his body all over mine. Rough, raw, and as abrasive as his personality.
That, and one of the last people I wanted him to kill was Digby.
The lessons were well learned—had been burned into my flesh. The marks would fade, just as the belt welts had.
I may have been snarky with a penchant for annoying, but Six…
He was Alpha and Omega.
He was Six.
He was the most dangerous game.
I stayed silent, which was best for my damaged throat.
He had lost complete control of himself. I’d seen him angry, I’d seen him kill, but I’d never seen him lose his cool. Even in Paris when he put me in my victim place, he was dialed in.
More hours passed and the sun set in strained silence. Signs for Atlanta streamed by, and at nearly ten at night we pulled into a motel.
In Woodland.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I croaked as I stared at the dilapidated shitstain motel in the middle of BFE. The one that probably still held the lead wire that he kept me chained to for almost two weeks.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even look my way as he exited the car and walked into the lobby.
Odd. Six always gave me a warning.
Sure enough, he walked straight from the lobby to room 4 and unlocked it.
I stared through the window as he began unloading the trunk.
I was free of the nightmare inside and really didn’t want to go back. Was it my punishment for Digby? Since we’d left weeks before, he’d granted me certain freedoms. I’d been allowed outdoors with him, to dress like a normal human being, and to sleep without being bound to a damn bed. I dreaded that those luxuries would be taken away.
I blew out a breath, then climbed out of the car. My hands shook as I made my way to the door. Tears filled my eyes as I peered in and, sure enough, the wire remained.
My breath sped up as tears welled in my eyes. The shaking in my hand spread through my whole body, making it to my bottom lip as cold, angry eyes stared at me.
A tear slipped down my cheek as I shut the door and slowly stepped toward him.
He grabbed hold of my chin, tilting my eyes up to meet his, jaw set as his lip curled up.
“Here’s how things are going to go.” He held up a small key in front of me—the key to the ankle cuff. “That guy is alive, for now.”
He reached down and opened up the cuff, and I held my leg out for him to click the cuff around my ankle.
Hostage again. Freedoms gone.
He took hold of my chin again. “So you understand, you make one tiny move out of line again and he’s dead. I will hunt him down and I will shove my knife into his gut, letting his entrails spill out in front of him as I dig it upward right into his heart.”
Another tear slipped down as I swallowed and nodded. Digby wouldn’t die because of me. Nobody would.
His gaze slipped from mine, watching the tear trail down my cheek before leaning forward and licking it up. A small gasp jumped from me and as he pulled back, his hand moving along my jaw, his thumb inadvertently swiping another one away.
My brow furrowed as his eyes lost their intense edge. He pressed his lips to mine, and it was unlike anything he’d done before. Soft, quick, then he stepped back. His muscles tensed again as he faced away from me, moving on to some task.
I stared after him, confused, watching the muscles in his back and shoulders contract as he pulled items out of his duffle bag.
My tongue peeked out, wetting my lips, tasting his. I sat down on the bed.
Somehow, things were different. But I didn’t know if that was different good or different bad.
All I knew was I was back to being trapped. Chained down.
Back to the beginning, with one very significant change—I knew the game.