Page 29 of Captive Souls

And she did not deserve the lifetime of ruin I promised.

Then again, her life was already ruined with or without me.

Piper

The temperature was impressive, given how remote the cabin was, but even the scalding-hot shower couldn’t cure me, couldn’tchase away the chill nesting in my neurons. I’d investigated the hot water source—a large propane tank slightly removed from the house. I wanted to ask Knox about the plumbing, the running water. My guess would be some kind of gravity fed system from a nearby creek, or maybe a well. But no way was I making conversation with Knox after what happened.

It was selfish of me to take such a long and hot shower since the propane would eventually run out. But I didn’t give a shit about Knox’s hot showers. I probably should’ve at the very least thought about future me needing showers, but I wasn’t able to think practically right then.

I’d scrubbed myself raw, as if I could get the power of his gaze off my skin. It wasn’t on my skin, though; it was imprinted in my cells.

Despite the warmth of the shower, the body heat generated from the run and the rapidly warming spring morning, my teeth chattered.

I’d put on a long-sleeved shirt, a cardigan and leggings, trying to let my hair air dry outside in the sun while again nibbling on an apple and some bread.

My body was crying out for coffee, but a half-desperate search of the cupboards showed there was none to be had.

That further solidified my theory that Knox was some kind of robot or vampire. There was no way he could be human if he didn’t operate on caffeine. Especially considering the lack of sleep he’d had. And I assumed chasing, kidnapping and terrifying people took up a lot of energy.

Drugs, then, if he was indeed human. It had to be stimulants. I’d seen behind the curtain, discovering that many successful people were on some kind of drug to keep them up, to get them up, to bring them down.

Although I didn’t see the signs of addiction in him. That didn’t mean much; addicts were experts at lying, hiding their true selves.

But Knox wasn’t hiding his true self. He was showing what a monster he was without shame, regret. He wanted me to see it. Be scared.

And though I was plenty scared, I couldn’t give in to that fear. This was only the beginning, after all. This was a month of living with the devil, and I was going to use it as training to survive being married to whatever Stone was.

Training to end him.

Because I’d figured there was truly no escape. Nothing that wouldn’t risk my sister. I’d let him think Knox broke me. And while I was here, I’d watch Knox. His cruelty, brutality, hoping it would rub off on me. It basically leached from his skin, so it should.

And most importantly, I would ignore any and all attraction I had to the man. It must’ve been some kind of mirage, some trickster magic of the Appalachian woods that had me feeling it.

I was definitely not attracted to him.

No.

I was fascinated by him. Because on the surface, he seemed like my destruction, but if I played things right, he might just be my salvation.

He’d teach me to be the villain I’d need to be.

Because I was beginning to understand that life wasn’t like my books. A woman didn’t need to slay dragons nor ride them. No, she needed tobecomea dragon, breathe fire on all men who considered her conquerable.

One Day Later

I didn’t see Knox for the entirety of the day after our … altercation, if that’s what you’d call it. I’d hidden inside the cabin, bracing for him to come in the door, hurt me … or make good on that shadow of prurience I’d told myself I had imagined.

I’d shuffled and dealt my cards, the spread changing except one Tarot card.

The Devil.

It came time after time.

It was too weird, even for me.

The Devil card was, granted, a misunderstood card. It didn’t hold its roots in the classic religious connotations of the term. Not to me anyway.

The Devil represented a darker side of us all, one we rarely brought to light, one we ignored, shunned or reviled. It was the ugly little voice in our heads saying jealous things, self-deprecating things, or wanting things that were deplorable. Destructive.