Captive in the Dark (The Dark Duet Book 1)
Captive in the Dark: Chapter 2

Caleb led his beautiful captive toward the center of the room. Her steps were hesitant, frightened, as if she expected him to push her off a precipice. He urged her forward only to have her push back against him. That was fine with him. She could push back against him all night as far as he was concerned. Offering no resistance, he let her collide against him, barely subduing a laugh when she let out a gasp and sprang forward like a cat avoiding water. Or in this case, his hard-on.

Caleb reached out to gently grasp her arms, she stilled, obviously too frightened to move forward or back. Lust rolled through him. He finally had her—here—between his fingers, under his control. He closed his eyes, heady for a moment.

She had arrived over three hours ago, slung over the shoulder of that waste of a human being, Jair. She was bruised, dirty, and reeking of bile and sweat, but that hadn’t been the worst of it.

One of them, and he didn’t have to wonder at whom, had struck her across the face. Heat crawled down his spine the moment he saw the blood on her lip, and the purpling bruise swelling her left eye and cheek. He resisted the urge to kill that motherfucker on the spot. He doubted he had marred her as a last resort. She was a woman, how difficult could it be to pacify her?

At least she had managed to kick his face. He would have paid to see that.

The sound of soft but deep breaths returned his thoughts to the present. The desire that had settled warmly in his stomach sunk heavily to his balls and engorged his cock painfully. He trailed his fingers across her shoulders while shifting to her left side. He wanted a better look at her. Her pink lips were parted just slightly, whispers of breath rushing through them.

Caleb wanted nothing more than to remove her blindfold, to stare into those bewildering eyes of hers, and kiss her until she melted beneath him – but they were a long way from there.

Like a falcon, she needed the dark to understand who her master was. She would learn to trust him, to rely upon him, to anticipate what he wanted from her. And like any master worth his salt, he would reward her for her obedience. He would be exceedingly firm, but he would also be as fair as he could be. He had not chosen the instrument of his revenge at random. He had chosen a beautiful submissive. And what was a submissive if not adaptable –if not a survivor?

He leaned in close, inhaling the light scent of her skin beneath the lavender. “Would you like some ice for your face?” he asked. She tensed sharply at the sound of his voice; soft and low.

For a moment, it was comical. She shifted around from foot to foot, nervous, blind, and incapable of choosing a direction. Her hand floated up to her face and he knew she itched to remove the blindfold. He made a sound of disapproval and instantly her curious fingers went back to clutching her robe.

Caleb, feeling what passed for pity, sought to guide her once again toward the bed. She gasped the moment his fingers curled around the lapel of her robe grazing hers in the process.

“Easy pet, there’s something behind you and I’d hate for you to get hurt again.”

“Don’t call me pet.” Came the shaky, yet firm command.

Caleb went absolutely still. No one talked to him like that – least of all, blindfolded, nearly naked women. Instantly, he pulled her forward until her soft cheek pressed roughly against his own. He growled, “I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want – pet. You belong to me. Do you understand?”

Against his cheek he felt her infinitesimal nod, and against his ear, heard her small squeak of capitulation.

“Good. Now, Pet,” he urged her back a few inches, “answer my question. Ice for your face, or not?”

“Y-y-yes,” she answered in a tremulous voice. Caleb thought that was better, but not yet settled.

“Y-y-yes?” he mocked. Caleb pressed into her assuredly, dominating her with his size. “Do you know how to say please?”

Her head craned, as if she could see him through her blindfold, and a grimace contorted her full mouth. He would have laughed, but the moment was abruptly no longer comical. Her knee collided with his groin, hard. What was it with women and kicking men in the nuts? Throbbing pain crept upward, knotted his intestines, hunching over his body. Whatever food he’d eaten threatened to come back up.

Above him, his captive continued to fight like a hellcat. Her fingernails dug into his hands as she tried to pry him loose from her robe. When that failed, her frantic elbows landed repeatedly between his shoulder blades. He managed to suck in a breath, though to her ears, it probably sounded like an animalistic growl.

“Let me go, you fucking asshole. Let go.” She yelled between frantic sobs and screams. She twisted and turned in his grasp, weakening his hold on her robe. He had to get her under control, or she was going to run herself into a much worse situation than his retribution.

Thoroughly riled, Caleb forced himself to stand. Towering over her, his angry eyes met hers.

She’d removed the blindfold and now she stood completely still, eyeing him with a mixture of horror and shock. She didn’t blink, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe, she simply stared.

He stared back.

He spun her around and pinned her arms to her sides. Anger raced through him as he tightened his arms around her, forcing the air from her lungs.

“You?” The question slipped past her lips in a rush of expelled air. The single word seemed to ride on a wave of despair and an undercurrent of raw anger. He’d known this strange moment would come. He was no longer her hero. He never was. She struggled for air, panting like a dog, and the idea mildly amused him.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as her head collided soundly with his nose. He released her on instinct, his fingers pressed to either side of his nose.

She moved quickly, a flutter of long dark hair and bathrobe flying toward the bedroom door.

Caleb growled deep in his chest. Lunging toward her he held a fistful of her robe, but as he pulled back, she simply spilled out of the fabric. Nubile flesh assaulted his senses.

As her hands reached the bedroom door, replaceing it securely locked, his fingers speared into her hair and made a fist. He pulled back sharply, causing her to tumble backward onto the floor.

No longer taking her vigor for granted and no longer amused by her flailing limbs, he sat squarely on top of her.

“No!” she screamed desperately, knees once again seeking his groin, nails fixated on digging into his face.

“You like to fight don’t you?” He smiled. “I like to fight too.” With more effort than he would have thought necessary he wrapped his legs around hers and trapped her wrists above her head with his left hand.

“Fuck you,” she panted, chest rising defiantly. Her entire body was tense beneath him; her muscles fought, unwilling to give up, but that burst of energy had cost her. Her eyes were wild, crazy, but she was weakening. He held her easily now.

Slowly, the realization of her warm, trembling body pressed so intimately against him flooded his senses, intoxicating him. Her delicate pussy was pressed against his belly, with only the soft fabric of his shirt separating him from her. Her full and decidedly warm breasts heaved under his chest. Just beneath them he felt the hammering of her heart. In her struggles, her heated skin moved against him with greater friction. It was almost more than he could stand. Almost.

Holding her wrists in his left hand, he reared up and slapped the underside of her right breast with his palm, then the underside of the left with the back of his hand. Instantly, choked sobs erupted from her throat.

“Do you like that?” Caleb barked. Again he slapped her breasts, and again, and again, and again until her entire body let go, until he felt every muscle beneath him slide loose, and she simply wept into the crook of her arm.

“Please. Please stop,” she croaked, “Please.”

She was warm, undone, and afraid beneath him. Her lips moved quickly, silently, spilling words not meant for him to hear. Caleb swallowed thickly, old memories gaining purchase. He blinked, pushed them back under lock and key. A reflex, usually quick and easily done after all these years. But he felt it this time, as her fear and his passion battled as much as mingled, congesting the air and filling the room. It seemed to create a new person, breathing along with them, and watching them, invading the moment.

His anger evaporated. He stared down at the girl’s beautiful breasts; they were deeply pink where he had struck her, but it wouldn’t leave a lasting mark. Gingerly, he released her wrists.

His thumb unconsciously sought to smooth the red mark of his grip. He frowned down at her.

He hoped she was out of surprises.

The moment she felt his grip loosen from around her wrists, she crossed her palms over her breasts. At first he thought she was attempting modesty, but her kneading fingers suggested she was more concerned with alleviating the pain.

She kept her eyes closed too, unwilling to acknowledge him straddling her thighs. Most people didn’t want to see the bad thing coming. The moment was perhaps unbearably worse because she recognized him. He had recognized the look of betrayal in her eyes. Well, she’d have to get over it – he had.

His captive subdued, Caleb slowly removed his weight and stood above her. He had to be firm, there could be no indication that such an act of clear defiance would be met with anything but swift and thorough punishment. He pushed the beautifully rounded and supple curve of her bottom with the tip of his boot. “Get up.” His tone was commanding. It brooked no argument or misunderstanding. Her body recoiled at the sound of his voice, but she refused to move.

“Get up or I’ll have to do it for you. Trust me, you don’t want that.” Her will to resist notwithstanding, she removed her right hand from her breast and attempted to push herself up.

Slowly she pushed her weight onto her arm, but her struggle was obvious as her arm shook under the strain causing her to collapse.

“Good girl, you can do it…get up.”

He could help her, but the lesson would be lost. Four months was not a lot of time when it involved training a slave. He didn’t have time to coddle her. The sooner those survival instincts kicked in, the better – and he didn’t mean the kind where she kept trying to kick him in the nuts.

They had six weeks together in this house. He wouldn’t waste them on fending off childish antics.

She scowled at him, injecting as much loathing as was possible into a look. Caleb resisted the urge to smile. He guessed she no longer thought he was cute. Good. Cute was for pussies.

Summoning her strength, she pressed the heel of her hand into the carpet and straightened her elbow. Her breath was labored, her eyes winced with pain, but her tears had dried up. Forcing herself onto all fours, she attempted to stand. Fully upright, Caleb reached for her, ignoring her staunch protests. She tugged her arm loose from his grasp, but kept her eyes trained on the ground. He bristled, but let it pass and guided her without touching toward the bed.

She sat precariously on the edge of the bed, her hands covered her breasts and her head tilted forward hiding her in a veil of tangled ebony waves. Caleb sat next to her. He resisted the urge to push her hair away from her face. She could hide from him for now, just until she calmed down.

“Now,” he said pleasantly, “would you, or would you not, like some ice for your face?”

He could almost feel the chilling anger rolling off of her. Anger, not fear? He could barely reconcile it in his mind. While he did expect some anger, he did replace it particularly odd that she had yet to acknowledge her stark nudity. Shouldn’t she be more frightened than angry?

Shouldn’t she be begging her way into his good graces? Her reactions to him refused to fall between the usual and predictable lines. It was as bemusing as it was intriguing. “Well?”

Finally, between clenched teeth she forced herself to say the words, “Yes. Please.”

He couldn’t help himself, he laughed. “Now, was that so hard?”

Her jaw visibly ticked, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on her bruised knees. Good, Caleb thought, he had made himself perfectly clear.

Standing, he turned toward the door, though no sooner had he taken a step than he heard her strained voice at his back.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked hollowly.

He turned, a wry smile playing across his lips. She wanted a reason. Serial killers had reasons. Reasons made no difference.

She continued, “Is it because of that day on the street? Is it because I…” She swallowed hard and Caleb knew it was because she was trying not to cry. “Because I flirted with you? Did I do this to myself?” Despite her noble effort, a fat tear slid down her right cheek.

In that moment, Caleb could not help but regard her as he would any strange creature –

objective but insatiably curious.

“No,” he lied, “it has nothing to do with that day.” She needed him to lie; Caleb understood.

Sometimes a gentle lie was enough to remove the weight of a harsh truth. It’s not your fault.

Perhaps he needed to lie to himself too, because he remembered wanting her that day, and not for reasons having to do with his mission.

“I’ll go get you some ice. And you could probably use some aspirin too.”

They both started at the sound of a key being turned in the lock.

Jair casually entered the room and Caleb made no effort to disguise his anger. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” Jair was obviously drunk and that made him more dangerous. Jair’s eyes flashed with anger before striding toward the girl cowering on the bed. His eyes raked over her naked body and his lips curved in a covetous smile. “I see the little slut is awake.”

The girl was scared, really scared. She’d huddled all the way to the top of bed, covering herself with her hands and hair – trying to pull the comforter up from under her body. He was struck by the fact that she hadn’t reacted to him that way while they were on the bed together.

She had seemed more pissed off than frightened of him, but only after the blindfold came off and she realized who he was. It could mean one of two things: one, she felt like she knew him based on their very brief encounter, or two, she didn’t replace him threatening. Either way, her thought process seemed asinine.

Caleb glared at Jair who was eyeing the girl as if he wanted to simultaneously kill her and fuck her. Given what he knew of Jair, it was possible that’s exactly what he wanted.

There was a test here.

Caleb forced himself to regard Jair as if he mattered, “Well, I’m not sure that’s the name I’ll go with, but yes, she’s awake.” Caleb glanced coolly at the girl over his shoulder, just the barest of looks. He quickly noticed her pleading expression, and added, “And quite spry.” He smiled.

Need and lust were unchecked on Jair’s face, and Caleb knew all too well what men like him fantasized about doing to scared girls. Without hesitation, Jair staggered toward the bed and wrapped his filthy hand around the girl’s ankle and pulled. The girl screamed and clung to the bedpost.

Caleb turned swiftly, grabbing her around the waist as she was dragged across toward the foot of the bed. He pulled her into his arms and sat casually, his back against the headboard, his left foot planted on the ground. The girl scrambled into his lap and buried her face in his shirt.

Against his chest her frantic, pleading sobs vibrated his entire body. She was using him as protection? Interesting.

Caleb winced as her fingernails dug sharply into his ribs. Swiftly, and deftly he pried her fingers from his shirt and captured her wrists.

“No, no, no, no, no…” tripped over her lips repeatedly while she attempted to once again gain sanctuary in his arms. Caleb, suddenly irritated by the thought, spun her in his arms using her own momentum. After securing the girl’s wrist between her breasts, he held her tightly against him.

Jair made another grab for the girl’s ankles.

“No,” Caleb said calmly. “You’re job was to get her for me, not to hit her, or fuck her.”

“This is bullshit, Caleb!” Jair shouted angrily, his thick accent made him sound barbaric.

“That little bitch kicked my face, and I could have done more than slap her. I should get something for that.”

At the sound of his name, Caleb’s grip intensified to the point of strangling all the sobs out of the girl in his arms. The ensuing silence effectively punctuated the rage in Caleb’s stare. It took Jair a moment to realize what he’d done. The glaze over Jair’s eyes cleared in full realization, and the drunken stupor, for a fraction of a moment, cleared. And that was enough. Caleb could see the Arab understood his mistake at declaring his name to the girl.

Suddenly remembering the gasping girl in his arms, Caleb loosened his grip. She sucked in breath after breath, so concerned with getting air in her lungs it seemed that for the moment she had forgotten to resume her crying. Within Caleb’s tensed arm his captive made hoarse, mewling sounds, but he made no effort to reassure her of her safety.

With his free hand Caleb reached for her chin and tilted it up for Jair to see. “It could take weeks for this to heal.” His fingers dug into the girl’s face as his temper rose.

The room was filled with tension and then the silence broke with the sound of the girl’s sobs.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “You’re right.” He paused, adding through clenched jaws, “Don’t tell Rafiq. It won’t happen again.”

The man wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. He knew hitting the girl was the least of his transgressions. He’d offered the girl his name. Names had power. Jair had to know what he’d done would cost him. If not, Caleb would have to make sure of it. As a mercenary available to the highest bidder, Jair’s bread and butter were earned in the acquisition and safeguarding of high-end pleasure slaves. One word about these juvenile mistakes and his contracts would dry up. And one word about Jair fucking with Caleb, and Rafiq would see to it that Jair dried up, preferably in the desert somewhere. Still, the very idea that Caleb needed protection from anyone was an insult he didn’t take lightly. “I’m my own man Jair,” he spoke the name with venom, “Why fear Rafiq from thousands of miles, when I could kill you in just a few steps?”

Jair stiffened, but he kept his mouth shut.

Oh yeah, Caleb thought, you’re my bitch. Caleb’s voice was sugar, laced with arsenic, “Now, please…go get our guest some aspirin and an icepack. It seems she’s got quite the headache.”

Jair left the room without another word, tension lined his body, and Caleb smiled.

Once alone, the girl in Caleb’s arms broke down completely. “Please, please, I’m begging you, don’t let him hurt me. I swear to God I won’t fight anymore.”

Exasperated, Caleb let out a wry laugh, “Now, you don’t like to fight? What makes you think I won’t hurt you?”

Through distorted sobs he heard, “You said you wouldn’t. Please don’t.” She added emphasis to the word ‘please’. Caleb hid a smile in her hair.

No longer willing to expose her beautiful curves to Jair, he leaned across his captive to retrieve the end of the comforter. In doing so, he pressed her face-down into the mattress and his unbelievably hard cock pressed against her bottom. She shook so fiercely, Caleb wondered how her body could endure it. He released her wrists and covered her body. “You need to calm down pet. I don’t want you to go into shock.” She only whimpered in response.

Caleb laughed and stroked her hair, “I promise you pet, if you do what I say, you will always come out better than you think.”

Jair returned holding the items Caleb asked for. His captive’s shaking intensified.

Obviously still angry, Jair tossed Caleb the aspirin. “Anything else?” he said bitingly.

Catching the bottle in one hand, Caleb shook his head and made a tsk-tsk sound. He removed one aspirin and another similar looking pill from his pocket. He made a gesture for Jair to come closer, and handed over the pills.

“Don’t be so sensitive Jair. It only makes you more unattractive.” Jair snarled. “But I’m sure our guest thinks you’re lovely. She’s agreed to play nice so long as you don’t hurt her.” Beneath the blanket she stopped shaking all together, her body suddenly tight as a bow.

He stood up from the bed. “Go on, make nice. Offer her the gifts you’ve brought.”

Jair gave Caleb a suspicious look, but approached the bed and held out the glass of water.

Her eyes were wide, filled with an anguish Caleb no longer understood.

“Go on, pet.” He made a point of using the moniker, not surprised to replace that when her eyes shot to his, her expression was no longer one of anger, but appropriate fear.

When he made no further comment, her trembling hand finally reached for the pills and glass. She was extremely mindful of not touching Jair. That was smart. The glass rattled against her teeth as she swallowed, but she managed not to spill any.

When the glass was empty, she handed it back to Jair, careful again not to make casual contact with his fingers. Her eyes stared past him toward Caleb. They were quite pitiful.

“Give thanks you whore,” Jair spat when she simply curled into the fetal position. Caleb frowned, but he let the remark pass.

Her eyes once again searching Caleb’s for direction, she finally mumbled feebly, “Thank you,” before pulling the comforter more tightly around herself.

At Caleb’s dismissive look, Jair left the room. And once again, Caleb was left alone with his puzzling acquisition. He carefully approached the cotton covered mass on the bed, sat, and leaned in close to her face. “You’re very proud,” he whispered. “As kind as I have been, you’ve been a brat. But for the man who would rape you, you show nothing but obedience…that says a lot.”

“Go fuck yourself,” was her small, raspy reply.

He let out a burst of laughter. “Well, you’re nothing if not interesting.” And that was the truth. For some reason, he’d known that from the beginning, and yet, he had not expected this.

His laughter ebbed away slowly and when next he spoke, his voice was cold but velvet, “But you know… I’d much rather fuck you.”

The cotton mound twitched, and then contorted violently as she turned over and scurried backward, gripping the comforter to her chest as if it would be enough to stop him. He couldn’t help but laugh. Her eyes shot daggers at him, but he could already see her pupils were dilated.

Her stomach was empty and the drugs were working fast. Considering the dose he’d given her, she was high as a kite. But cute.

Her head drooped, but she picked it up quickly, catching herself in jerky movements. He found himself smiling, though briefly. “What’s…wrong…with me?” she slurred. Her body was relaxing against her will. And she kept struggling, fighting the drug.

“You’re going to sleep now pet,” he said simply.

“What? Why?” Her eyes were comically wide with shock and she pulled at her lip. “My face is numb, numb, numb.” She let out a strange giggle, but it soon faded away to heavy breathing.

He walked toward the door, the slow smiling curving upward despite himself.