BLYSS (Blyss Trilogy #1) (7 page)

All of the walls are a creamy taupe, and I spy a colorful, large framed print in the kitchen area that catches me eye. I squint, arching my neck forward as if a few inches will make a difference in being able to make out the print.
It couldn’t be, could it?
From this distance, it looks like a large-scale replica of the one-of-a-kind ocean scape painting I have back in Massachusetts. The room is too dark to see it clearly from where I lay, but the likelihood of it being a reproduction is nil. I shake my head dismissing the absurd thought. I slowly glance around the rest of the quarters, noticing everything has been well decorated with a perfect balance of symmetry, color, and fashion in every part of the room. Everything appears neat, clean, and smells fresh, including the soft comforter wrapped around my body. I close my eyes and scold myself for having these thoughts.
Really, Jules? Like you really need to let yourself be distracted looking at balance, color, and symmetry at a time like this!
What I need to do is find a way out of here and not let myself become preoccupied with decor, fabrics, and paintings.

I see an IV bag hanging on the wall to my right, and as I follow the line, I see it’s no longer connected to me.
 
It looks as if they might have disconnected the IV while I was asleep. I sigh in relief; I hate needles, they give me the willies. Looking down to my right arm, I discover a cannula taped over and violating the vein in my right arm.
Crap!
I clench my fists, wanting it out of my body. There is a small alarm clock illuminated beside me on the nightstand and it’s almost 5:30pm. Due to the drugs the men gave me, I’ve slept an entire day away. I guess I should be grateful; I would hate to have been forced to live through that nightmare without pain medication and rest.

The sudden urge to pee overtakes me, most likely from the IV pumping liters of God-knows-what through my body. I roll to my right side, sitting up and testing my agility, making sure I have no dizziness. Slowly, I pull myself up, stand on shaky legs, and proceed carefully toward the bathroom. Finishing my business, I amble from the bathroom, stopping momentarily to wash my hands at the sink. Staring back at myself in the mirror, I look as if I’ve been through a warzone. I splash some cool water over my face to help revive my weary body and take a sip of water from one of the plastic cups provided.

Roving my eyes over my body, taking stock of my injuries, I see the bruises decorating my neck in a black and blue pattern. Unconsciously, I find my fingertips softly tracing the outlines of handprints on my neck. Smirking at myself in the mirror, I recall it was worth every bit of pain to hear those men howl in agony. I put up one hell of a struggle, and I think about the man I bit. I would bet my last dollar he needed a ton of stitches.
Bastard.
Realizing I’m still in my pajamas from last night, I frown. I would really love a shower right now.
 

I dismiss the thought of a shower and turn from the mirror, searching for a possible escape route. The source of the dim light is seeping through the outside edges of burgundy designer drapes that line one entire wall. The drapes are encased at the top in a contrasting, patterned cornice board, complimenting the heavy curtains. Suddenly, I find myself rushing to the other side of the room in giddy excitement, hoping to expose the set of windows hidden behind the curtains that will render my freedom.

My mind races, thinking of different ways I could make a distress signal to someone outside the large windows, in hopes I can be discovered and rescued. My hands roam frantically through the thick material, looking for the curtain pull. Finally, I find the pull rod located in the center of the drapes and grab it with shaky hands. Sliding back the massive amount of fabric to the side, I feel a silly grin spread across my lips.

Slowly, my grin fades once the curtains are fully pulled back. My face drops as my eyes widen in mortification. What I find before me utterly stops my heart from beating in my chest as I stand with my feet frozen to the floor. There are no windows, no rays of sunshine trying to sneak into the imprisoned cell to offer me hope.

I hold my breath as my eyes scan before me an entire concrete and brick wall. It taunts me with imitation-sunshine. Fluorescent lights are lined along the edges of the wall that’s not even a foot away from my face, outlining where a window frame should be. I swallow back bile from my clenching stomach as I come to a conclusion: I can almost accept this wall being all brick with the illusion of sunlight seeping past the edges of the curtains, but what I cannot accept is I see the entire brick wall holds so much more. My eyes flick back and forth over a wide array of items spread over the length of the entire wall. There is a huge, X-framed contraption that’s bolted to the wall, and I tilt my head in confusion. I can’t make heads or tails of the thing, seeing it has thick leather restraints at every end.
What in the hell is this?
I feel my eyes widen in horror as they roam over the rest of the wall.
 

A couple of large, locked, custom-made, clear Plexiglass cases are hanging on different parts of the wall. Leaning forward, I squint to make sure I’m seeing this right.
What is that? A whip?
Other funky-shaped items of all shapes and sizes are displayed, hanging neatly on hooks like pool cues on a rack. Everything seems to be exhibited in a planned, orderly fashion. I step closer and raise my hand, using my finger to tentatively touch one of the glass cases. Curiosity gets the best of me, so I open it and trace along the outline of a long whip. I inhale the strong scent of leather and immediately think of Travis. I don’t want to think of Travis this way, so I won’t. One particular crop catches my eye.
It has friggin’ jewels embedded in the handle!
Some of these items look like deflated pom-poms. There are too many objects to try and figure out what their purposes are. Paddles, ropes, gags…I step away from the sight before me as uneasy feelings begin to wash over my body. I shake my head in disbelief. I’m not prepared for any of this, and I never will be. As if I’m standing under a waterfall, goose bumps rain down over my entire body, cascading from the top of my head and ending at my toes.
 

My mind spins in pure confusion; I don’t want to know what this stuff is or what it does. I can only imagine it has something to do with kinky sex, but I really don’t want to let my mind ponder over what the X-framed contraption is used for. I let out a long, audible groan in the silent room. I will never be ready to have sex forced on me, but who the hell ever is, virgin or not? I start to wonder what type of mind games these people plan to inflict on me. The psychological destruction could be much worse than any of these instruments of pain on the wall. Will they cut me so deep mentally I will wind up having irreversible scar tissue on my soul? Will I be unable to ever fully heal should I get out of this alive?
 

I find myself struggling against fear and self-pity. I can’t afford to have either. I’m sick with anticipation of what’s to come. I can’t allow myself to think of those negative thoughts, but they keep slipping in, taking over my mind at every turn. I try to take a deep, calming breath, but it comes out shaky.
 

I need to start thinking again of an alternate escape plan to get out of this prison cell. I slide the curtains back into place hastily, thinking if I can’t see those freaky things, they won’t exist. I also don’t want to be caught standing in front of these exposed torture devices with the curtains drawn back when someone walks in, either. I’d feel like Vanna White, displaying my body before the nasties, and then the bad guys might get sidetracked and become full of ideas I don’t want entertained.
 

I don’t want to wonder whose paraphernalia this belongs to, or with whom and when they plan on using it. Spine-chilling shivers race through my body at those horrifying thoughts.
Yes, Jules, you dimwit; if they kidnapped you, you can bet they have immoral and corrupt plans they want to implement.
 

Logical reasoning skills have me beginning to deduct the following hypothesis: One, abducting me from my own home automatically makes them criminal, sick fucks. Two, the proverbial writing is literally on the wall; they’re into disgusting fetishes. Finally, number three, I’m so screwed, pun fully-intended. I giggle at my own little joke and then shake myself, wondering why in the world I’d be making funnies at a time like this.
Am I hitting hysteria?

Biting my nails, I turn around and look at the door, half-scared to even try it. I can only imagine there’s some hulk of a man standing guard with a gun just waiting for me on the other side. It would be stupid to think they’d leave the door unlocked, not after everything they went through to capture me.

I move toward the sofa to sit down. My thoughts drift toward my father, and I wonder what he’s doing right now. Obviously, these are the very same men who threatened him. I can’t imagine why anyone would need to threaten his life, let alone steal me in the dead of night. My stomach churns thinking of my dad and Jake having to deal with the horror of my kidnapping, the drama of it all unfolding before their very eyes. Funny how he always kept me so confined to protect me, and I was snatched right out from under him.
 

It’s been almost a full day since I was taken, and I bet my dad has had a crazy day today, contacting anybody and everybody he could enlist in securing my rescue. My father has all types of connections and contacts in all walks of life; I’d seen some pretty scary people come in and out of our house over the years doing business with him. Being a self-proclaimed master spy from the age of four, I’d heard many confidential conversations growing up that would raise the hairs on the back of a chigger bug, but I never heard anything that would’ve given me pause for concern over our own safety, until yesterday.
 

One thing is for certain, especially since my father knows who kidnapped me, his wrath will have no mercy. I feel very confident that when my father reaches out to his bounty of resources from both sides of the law, whoever they are, they will find me. I don’t know where I am, but something tells me I can’t be too far away. I can only pray if I am close to home, I’ll be rescued that much more quickly. I smile to myself and relish the thought of my father’s ire being unleashed on these men, storming in with a battalion and taking no prisoners.
 

I turn my head at the sound of men talking in the hallway near my door. Their voices grow louder, and my heartbeat starts to thump at a fast pace in my chest as I quickly leap from the sofa. I stand there for a brief second, and I thank my feet for having a mind of their own as they start running for the safety of the bed. By the time I leap into the covers, I hear the door click open, and I quickly take refuge under the fluffy blanket. Yes, I know, as if this will protect me from the impending evils, right? But it’s my only source of comfort at the moment. I lean against the headboard, pulling my safety blanket high up under my chin.

Immediately, I smell the same expensive cologne as it wafts in the air before I even see the men emerging from the corner of the kitchen area. When they round the corner, I see it’s the same two men from earlier this morning, and I feel my heart beat in my throat.

I watch as Green Eyes flips on a light switch located on the wall, and he hangs back with what I hope is a tray of food. I haven’t eaten all day, I was beginning to feel hungry, but felt I couldn’t swallow anything earlier because of my wounded throat. The other man sauntered near, stopping next to me alongside the bed. He’s wearing an expensive ensemble of black dress pants; a dark purple, long-sleeved dress shirt; and a matching silk tie, all ironed to perfection. I scan over him curiously and notice his black shoes are even flawlessly shined. He screams of wealth and power. I swallow hard, causing me to grimace. He looks awfully young to exude such a persona. I’d venture to say he’s in his early thirties.

I watch his every move with baited breath, ready to bury myself deeper under the covers. He places both hands in his front pockets and rocks back on his heels, giving me a devilish grin. I don’t like the expression, not at all. Cocking his head to the side, he begins to study me. Well, all he can study, really, is my head poking out from under the covers. The movement causes his dark-brown hair to shift from its style, and I watch it fall across his forehead in a sultry way.
Arrogant prick.

This man in front of me is definitely a strong and an attractive man; I’ll give him that. He’s well-built, like he hits the gym daily, not showing one ounce of fat on his hard body. I can tell he has a solid chest and bulging biceps under his expensive, dark shirt. His skin is a clear and healthy olive complexion. His very presence seems to reek of authority and arrogance. He knows he’s good-looking, and I have always hated that type of mannerism in a man.

“Hello, Princess; my name is Nick.” Even his voice exudes deep, rich, masculine power that demands your attention. He pauses a moment, staring me down. “Are you feeling better, now?” I timidly nod my head yes, afraid to speak.

“I’m glad to hear that. I was a little concerned to find you so abused this morning, my apologies.” I shift my eyes between the two men.
Are they for real?
He’s sorry about me getting hurt in a scuffle that he most likely created? My mouth’s connection to my brain has checked out for lunch, leaving me speechless.
What does he want me to say? ‘Oh, that’s okay; it was my fault for struggling in the first place.’

“I wanted to let you know I properly dealt with the animal who mistreated you. You didn’t deserve that.” He’s right; I didn’t deserve that, among a lot of other things that happened last night, namely being ripped from my home.