Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
And perhaps that was what made the choice for him.
Long shots were his specialty; he was here, after all. He logged on to another screen and spent an exorbitant amount of money for what he wanted. Then the Collector logged off, heading to his bedroom, where he opened his closet and began to pack another suitcase after he’d just unpacked the one he’d taken on his business trip. He packed a variety of items for different types of weather, since this time he had no idea where his destination would be.
CHAPTER TEN
They’d blindfolded her, and she didn’t know why. She’d been brought to the same room, told to undress and lie down on the same bed as the first two times she’d been here. The same beefy man holding a gun stood at the door, looking stoically ahead. The only difference so far was the silky blindfold the man in the black suit and red shoes had tied around her head.
“Why?” she had asked.
“Rental request,” he had said, right before she heard him exit the room.
Rental request. She was nothing more than a rental now. Like a car, or a bike, or a hotel room. A thing to use temporarily.
And so now Noelle lay on the bed, shivering, trying her best to prepare mentally for what she was about to endure, but distracted by every small sound, her vision gone, her other senses hyperaware.
There was no preparing for what she’d have to endure physically. She was not in control of that. Others currently possessed her body. But she was determined to keep her soul if she could.
She heard a soft knock at the door. Her muscles tensed. God, I hate this. I hate it. Make it fast. At least make it fast. She heard the man with the gun move aside and the soft footsteps of someone else enter the room. Light on his feet. No shuffling.
“Hello, Noelle.” His voice was deep and somehow melodic. He sounded older, but perhaps not as old as the other two men who had entered this room the last two times. She hadn’t been able to identify all their features under the masks they wore, but she’d been able to ascertain their age by their bodies and their sagging necks, veiny hands, and balding heads. She had only this man’s voice. So far. “You do not greet me. Why?”
His phrasing. It was different.
“Should the rabbit caught in the trap greet the hunter?” she bit out. Her voice shook, but her anger and hatred gave her courage. They were the only things she had in which to clothe herself.
He chuckled, and she felt the bed depress. He’d sat down directly to her right. Instinctively, she drew away. “If the rabbit wants to get free,” he answered smoothly.
That confused her. “You’re going to . . . help me get free?”
He made a tsking sound. “That’s against the rules, little rabbit. Would I . . . break . . . the rules?” He’d emphasized the word, though subtly, and she had no idea why. He dragged a finger down her arm, and she tensed and pulled away.
Still, this was the first man who’d offered any conversation at all, and she’d take advantage of it if she could. The other ones had laughed and grunted and made lewd commands and taken every liberty with her body, but they hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words, and they definitely hadn’t required any from her. One of them had enjoyed her tears, and so she’d cried harder to hurry it along. “Who makes the rules?” she asked him. “Who’s doing this? Is there anything I can do to get out of here?”
“You know I can’t answer those questions,” he said, using two fingers now to feather down her arm. She wanted to lift it and slap him. She fisted her hand to resist the impulse.
There was an accent she couldn’t place that floated around the edges of his words. It was slight. Very slight. She might not have even noticed it if she hadn’t been blindfolded. Maybe he was trying to hide it, or maybe it’d been a very long time since he’d spoken the language that gave his English that particular lilt, and only on certain words.
His scent wafted toward her. Expensive. But also clean and understated. The other men had smelled expensive, too, but she’d smelled them the moment they’d entered the room, their cologne preceding them. Some overpowering fragrance that barely hid the scent of sweat and dry-cleaning chemicals and whatever else they’d carried on them. She had a very good sense of smell. She wished she didn’t. Only one of them had chosen to get fully undressed, and then she’d been exposed to a whole new slew of smells she had tried to hold her breath against.