Den of Vipers

“Oh, avoid him? That didn’t fucking occur to me, and how would you
like me to avoid him when I’m in a locked room, and the crazy bastard
breaks in and stares at me while I sleep?” I huff.
His lips twitch, and he nods at my cut again. “Let me at least clean it and
wrap it. How’s your lip?” he questions, his big thumb coming up and
prodding at my sore lip. I freeze as he strokes his thumb across it, his eyes
scrutinising and clinical. Cold. Like he isn’t affected, like his touch isn’t
doing strange fucking things to me.
Things I have no business feeling when I’m his prisoner.
He nods. “It’s not busted too badly, it will heal.” He releases my lips and
takes my hand gently, turning it to regard the cut before standing so quickly I
jolt back—a habit, a habit I thought I’d broken. He sees it, of course he does,
but doesn’t comment. “Let me get a kit.”
He leaves the room for a moment, and I scramble to my feet to run after
him and escape, but he shuts the door and locks it. The bastard. Pacing,
snarling, and swearing under my breath, I wait for him to return. There is no
way I can take this big guy. I’m good, but I’m not that good. Plus, I’ve seen
his scarred knuckles and crooked nose, which has been broken too many
times, so I know he’s a fighter. By the fluid way he moves for such a big guy,
I would guess a boxer.
The door unlocks, and he comes back in with a first aid kit. He gestures
for me to sit on the bed, so I do, hoping if I’m good, I can lull them into a
false sense of security. He kneels down and cleans the cut, ignoring me
completely.
“What will happen to my bar?” I demand. I love that place. It’s my home,
the only place I ever belonged, and I worked my ass off to keep it alive
after…
“We locked it up, it will stay closed for now,” he offers, uncaring about
my questions or anger as he wraps my hand back up and stands. “You should
get some sleep.”
He turns then and starts to leave, so I leap into his path. “Why? Why are
you doing this?” I whisper, tears finally filling my eyes. “I’m a person, a
person! Not an object, please just let me go.”
He sighs, scrubbing at his face. “No. Get some sleep.”
Then he leaves, the click of the door signalling it’s locked again. I wipe
my tears away, angry with myself for letting him see that weakness. All of a
sudden, everything closes in on me. I’m theirs, they are never letting me go.