Chapter 6

It's evening now. With every minute that passes, I'm starting to get more and more anxious at the thought of seeing my captor again.

The novel that I've been reading can no longer hold my interest. I put it down and walk in circles around the room.

I am dressed in the clothes Sorn had given me earlier. It's not what I would've chosen to wear, but it's better than a bathrobe. A sexy pair of white lacy panties and a matching bra for underwear. A pretty blue sundress that buttons in the front. Everything fits me suspiciously well. Has she been stalking me for a while? Learning everything about me, including my clothing size?

The thought makes me sick.

I am trying not to think about what's to come, but it's impossible. I don't know why I'm so sure she'll come to me tonight. It's possible she has an entire harem of women stashed away on this island, and she visits each one only once a week, like sultans used to do.

Yet somehow I know she'll be here soon. Last night had simply whetted her appetite. I know she's not done with me, not by a long shot.

Finally, the door opens.

She walks in like she owns the place. Which, of course, she does.

I am again struck by her beauty. She could've been a model or a movie star, with a face like her. If there was any fairness in the world, she would've been short or had some other imperfection to offset that face.

But she doesn't. Her body is tall and perfectly proportioned. I remember what it feels like to have her inside me, and I feel an unwelcome jolt of arousal.

She's again wearing jeans and a T-shirt. A grey one this time. She seems to favor simple clothing, and she's smart to do so. Her looks don't need any enhancement.

She smiles at me. It's her fallen angel smile—dark and seductive at the same time. "Hello, Jennie."

I don't know what to say to her, so I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. "How long are you going to keep me here?"

She cocks her head slightly to the side. "Here in the room? Or on the island?"

"Both."

"Sorn will show you around tomorrow, take you swimming if you'd like," she says, approaching me. "You won't be locked in, unless you do something foolish."

"Such as?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as she stops next to me and lifts her hand to stroke my hair.

"Trying to harm Sorn or yourself." Her voice is soft, her gaze hypnotic as she looks down at me. The way she's touching my hair is oddly relaxing.

I blink, trying to break her spell. "And what about on the island? How long will you keep me here?"

Her hand caresses my face, curves around my cheek. I catch myself leaning into her touch, like a cat getting petted, and I immediately stiffen.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile. The bastard knows the effect she has on me. "A long time, I hope," she says.

For some reason, I'm not surprised. She wouldn't have bothered bringing me all the way here if she just wanted to fuck me a few times. I'm terrified, but I'm not surprised.

I gather my courage and ask the next logical question. "Why did you kidnap me?"

The smile leaves her face. She doesn't answer, just looks at me with an inscrutable blue gaze.

I begin to shake. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No, Jennie, I won't kill you."

Her denial reassures me, although she could obviously be lying.

"Are you going to sell me?" I can barely get the words out. "Like to be a prostitute or something?"

"No," she says softly. "Never. You're mine and mine alone."

I feel a tiny bit calmer, but there is one more thing I have to know. "Are you going to hurt me?"

For a moment, she doesn't answer again. Something dark briefly flashes in her eyes. "Probably," she says quietly.

And then she leans down and kisses me, her warm lips soft and gentle on mine.

For a second, I stand there frozen, unresponsive. I believe her. I know she's telling the truth when she says she'll hurt me. There's something in her that scares me—that has scared me from the very beginning.

She's nothing like the boys I've gone on dates with. She's capable of anything.

And I'm completely at her mercy.

I think about trying to fight her again. That would be the normal thing to do in my situation. The brave thing to do.

And yet I don't do it.

I can feel the darkness inside her. There's something wrong with her. Her outer beauty hides something monstrous underneath.

I don't want to unleash that darkness. I don't know what will happen if I do.

So I stand still in her embrace and let her kiss me. And when she picks me up again and takes me to bed, I don't try to resist in any way.

Instead, I close my eyes and give in to the sensations.

She's again gentle with me. I should be terrified of her—and I am—but my body seems to enjoy the dual sensation of fear and arousal. I don't know what that says about me.

I lie there with my eyes closed as she takes off my clothes, layer by layer. First she unbuttons the front of the dress, like she's unwrapping a present. Her hands are strong and sure; there's no hint of awkwardness or hesitation in her movements. She's clearly had a lot of practice with women's clothing.

After the dress is unbuttoned, she pauses for a second. I sense her gaze on me, and I wonder what she's seeing. I know I have a good body; it's slim and toned, even though it's not as curvy as I would like.

She trails her fingers down my stomach, making me tremble. "So pretty," she says softly. "Such lovely skin. You should always wear white. It suits you."

I don't respond, just squeeze my eyes tighter. I don't want her looking at me, don't want her enjoying the sight of my body in the undergarments she picked out for me. I wish she would just fuck me and get it over with, instead of engaging in this twisted parody of lovemaking.

But she has no intention of making it easy for me.

Her mouth follows the same path as her fingers. It feels hot and moist on my belly, and then she moves lower, to where my legs are instinctively squeezed tightly together. She doesn't seem to like that, and her hands are rough as they pull my thighs apart, her fingers digging into my tender flesh.

I whimper at the hint of violence, and try to relax my legs to avoid angering her further.

Her grip eases, her hands becoming gentler. "My sweet, beautiful girl," she whispers, and I can feel her hot breath on my sensitive folds. "You know I'll make it good for you."

And then her lips are on me, and her tongue is swirling around my clit, her mouth sucking and nibbling. Her hair brushes against my inner thighs, tickling me, and her hands hold my legs spread wide open. I twist and cry out, the pleasure so intense that I forget everything but the incredible heat and tension inside me.

She brings me close to the edge, but doesn't let me go over. Every time I feel my orgasm approaching, she stops or changes the rhythm, driving me crazy with frustration. I find myself pleading, begging, my body arching mindlessly toward her. When she finally lets me reach the peak, it's such a relief that my entire body spasms, shuddering and twisting from the intensity of the release.

For some reason, I start crying when it's over. Tears leak from the outer corners of my eyes and run down my temples, soaking into my hair and then the pillow. She appears to like it because she crawls up my body and kisses the wet trails on my face, then licks them.

Her hands stroke my body, rubbing my skin, caressing me all over. It would be soothing if it weren't for the hardness of her cock prodding at my entrance.

I'm not fully healed inside, so it hurts again when she starts to push in. Even though I'm wet from the orgasm, she can't slip into me easily, not without tearing me open. Instead, she has to go slowly, working herself in gradually until I have a chance to adjust to the intrusion.

I bite my lower lip, trying to cope with the burning, too-full feeling. Would I ever be able to accept her easily? Would I ever experience pleasure without pain in her arms?

"Open your eyes," she orders in a harsh whisper.

I obey her, even though I can barely see through the veil of tears.

She's staring at me as she slowly begins to move inside me, and there's something triumphant in her gaze. The heat of her body surrounds me, her weight presses me down on the bed. She's inside me, on top of me, all around me. I can't even escape into the privacy of my mind.

And in that moment, I feel possessed by her, like she's taking more than just my body. Like she's laying claim to something deep within me, bringing out a side of me that I never knew existed.

Because in her arms, I experience something I have never felt before.

A primitive and completely irrational sense of belonging.

She takes me twice more during the night. By morning I'm so sore I feel raw inside—and yet I've had so many orgasms I lost count.

She leaves me at some point in the morning. I'm so exhausted I'm not even aware of her departure. I sleep deeply and dreamlessly, and when I wake up, it's already past noon.

I get up, brush my teeth, and take a shower. On my thighs, I can see dried bits of semen. She didn't use a condom this night either.

I wonder again about STDs. Does Lisa care about this at all? She probably isn't worried about catching anything from me, given my lack of experience, but I'm certainly worried about getting it from her. Lifting my left arm, I peer at the tiny mark where my birth control implant was inserted. Thank God for my mom's pregnancy paranoia. If I didn't have it . . . I shudder at the thought.

Right after I exit the bathroom, Sorn comes into my room carrying another food tray and more clothes. This time, it's more traditional breakfast food: an omelet with vegetables and cheese, a piece of toast, and fresh tropical fruit.

She's again smiling at me, apparently determined to ignore the fork incident. "Good morning," she says cheerfully.

My eyebrows rise. "And good morning to you too," I say, my voice thick with sarcasm.

At my obvious attempt to needle her, Sorn's smile widens further. "Oh, don't be such a grump. Lisa said you get to leave the room today. Isn't that nice?"

It actually is nice. It would give me a chance to explore my prison a bit, to see if this place is really an island. Maybe there are other people here besides Sorn—people who would be more sympathetic to my plight.

Alternatively, maybe I'll find a phone or a computer. If I could just send a text or an email to my parents, they could pass it along to the police and then I might be rescued.

At the thought of my family, my chest feels tight and my eyes burn. They must be so worried about me, wondering what happened, whether I am still alive. I'm an only child, and my mom always said she'd die if anything happened to me. I hope she didn't mean it.

I hate her.

And I hate this woman, who's smiling at me right now.

"Sure, Sorn," I say, wanting to claw at her face until that smile turns into a grimace. "It's always nice to leave a small cage for a bigger one."

She rolls her eyes and sits down on a chair. "So dramatic. Just eat your food and then I'll show you around."

I think about not eating just to spite her, but I am hungry. So I eat, polishing off all the food on the tray.

"Where is Lisa?" I ask between bites. I'm curious how she spends her days. So far, I've only seen her in the evenings.

"She's working," Sorn explains. "She has a lot of business interests that require her attention."

"What kind of business interests?"

She shrugs. "All kinds."

"Is she a criminal?" I ask bluntly.

She laughs. "Why would you assume that?"

"Um, maybe because she kidnapped me?"

She laughs again, shaking her head as though I said something funny.

I want to hit her, but I restrain myself. I need to learn more about my surroundings before I try anything like that. I don't want to end up locked up in the room if I can avoid it. My chances of escape are much better if I have more freedom.

So I just get up and give her a cold look. "I'm ready to go."

"Then put on a swimming suit," she says, gesturing toward the clothes she had brought, "and we can go."

Before we walk out, Sorn shows me the rest of the house. It's spacious and tastefully furnished. The decor is modern, with just a hint of tropical influence and subtle Asian motifs. Light hues predominate, although here and there, I see an unexpected pop of color in the form of a red vase. There are four bedrooms—three upstairs and one downstairs. The kitchen on the first floor is particularly striking, with top-of-the-line appliances and gleaming granite countertops.

There is also one room that Sorn says is Lisa's office. It's on the first floor, and it's apparently off-limits to anyone but her. That's where she supposedly takes care of her business affairs. The door is closed when we walk past it.

After we're done with the house tour, Sorn spends the next two hours showing me the island. And it's definitely an island—she didn't lie to me about that.

It's only about two miles across and a mile wide. According to Sorn, we're somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, with the nearest populated piece of land over five hundred miles away. She emphasizes that fact a couple of times, as though she's afraid I might take it into my head to try to swim away.

I wouldn't do that. I'm not a strong enough swimmer, nor am I suicidal.

I would try to steal a boat instead.

We go up to the highest point of the island. It's a small mountain—or a large hill, depending on one's definition of these things. The view from there is amazing—all bright blue water wherever the eye can see. On one side of the island, the water is a different shade of blue, more turquoise, and Sorn tells me it's a shallow cove that's great for snorkeling.

Lisa's house is the only one on the island. It's sitting on one side of the mountain, a little ways back from the beach and somewhat elevated. That's the most sheltered location, Sorn explains; the house is protected from both strong winds and the ocean there. It has apparently survived a number of typhoons with minimal damage.

I nod, as though I care. I have no intention of being here for the next typhoon. The desire to escape burns brightly within me. I didn't see any phones or computers when Sorn was showing me the house, but that doesn't mean they're not there. If Lisa is able to work from the island, then there's definitely internet connectivity. And if they're foolish enough to let me roam this island freely, I will find a way to reach the outside world.

We end the tour at the beach near the house.

"Want to go for a swim?" Sorn asks me, stripping off her shorts and T-shirt. Underneath, she's wearing a blue bikini. Her body is lean and toned. She's in such great shape that I wonder about her age. Her figure could belong to a teenager, but her face seems older.

"How old are you?" I ask straight out. I would never be so tactless under normal circumstances, but I don't care if I offend this woman. What do social conventions matter when you're being held captive by a pair of crazy people?

She smiles, not the least bit upset at my impolite question. "I'm thirty-seven," she says.

"And Lisa?"

"She's twenty-nine."

"Are you two lovers?" I don't know what makes me ask this. If she's in any way jealous of my position as Lisa's sexual plaything, she's certainly not showing it.

Sorn laughs. "No, we're not."

"Why not?" I can't believe I'm being so forward. I've been raised to always be polite and well-mannered, but there's something liberating about not caring what people think. I have always been a people-pleaser, but I don't want to please this woman in any way.

She stops laughing and gives me a serious look. "Because I'm not what Lisa needs or wants."

"And what is that?"

"You'll learn someday," she says mysteriously, then walks into the water.

I stare after her, curiosity eating at me, but she appears to be done talking. Instead, she dives in and starts swimming with a sure athletic stroke.

It's hot outside, and the sun is beaming down on me. The sand is white and looks soft, and the water is sparkling, tempting me with its coolness. I want to hate this place, to despise everything about my captivity, but I have to admit that the island is beautiful.

I don't have to go swimming if I don't want to. It doesn't seem like Sorn is going to force me. And it seems wrong to enjoy myself at the beach while my family is undoubtedly worried sick about me, grieving about my disappearance.

But the lure of the water is strong. I've always loved the ocean, even though I've been to the tropics only a couple of times in my life. This island is my idea of paradise, despite the fact that it belongs to a snake.

I deliberate for a minute, then I take off my dress and kick off my sandals. I could deny myself this small pleasure, but I'm too pragmatic. I have no illusions about my status here. At any moment, Lisa and Sorn could lock me up, starve me, beat me. Just because I've been treated relatively well so far doesn't mean it will continue to be that way. In my precarious situation, every moment of joy is precious—because I don't know what the future holds for me, whether I will ever again experience anything resembling happiness.

So I join my enemy in the ocean, letting the water wash away my fear and cool the helpless anger burning in the pit of my stomach.

We swim, then lounge on the hot sand, and then swim again. I don't ask any more questions, and Sorn seems content with the silence.

We stay on the beach for the next two hours and then finally head back to the house.