Cold Cole Heart Page 8

  But I don’t.

  I watch as she yawns and curls up on her side.

  I watch as her eyelids grow heavy.

  I watch as sleep quickly steals her from me.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I hadn’t heard it buzz earlier because I’d been so lost in my thoughts, and I didn’t check it. Sure enough, my alerts for movement in my house had been triggered. Because she escaped. Well, sort of.

  Once I know she’s passed out, I sneak inside. Closing the door behind me as quietly as possible, I watch her.

  I’d thought she looked like Anta when her foggy gray eyes weren’t boring into me, but that’s not completely true. The others, with their unnatural lips filled with collagen and their perfect paid-for noses, reminded me of that witch. Everything about Natalie is natural and serene. The pictures I’d helped myself to earlier are on repeat in my mind, flipping over and over. Such a happy girl.

  Now, she’s haunted.

  He did this to Natalie.

  The man she clearly fears more than the monster holding her captive.

  I drop my bag to the floor with a soft thud and then shed my coat. The fact I think of her as Natalie and not Anta is alarming. That never happens and is a problem. I sit down on one end of the couch and draw her feet into my lap. They’re covered in my thickest socks—socks I bought when I first came back home because I couldn’t seem to get rid of the never-ending chill. I pull one off her feet into my hand and knead it gently, waiting for her to wake. She’ll soon realize she fucked up. I’m going to make her pay for this little stunt.

  A small moan escapes her followed by a sharp gasp. Then, her penetrating gray eyes are locked on mine.

  “You left me,” she whispers, accusation in her tone.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “All part of the punishment…” I start to utter the word sweetheart but then remember how it maddens her. And normally, I’d be all fucking for it. But something about that dickhead of a cousin of hers unnerves me. “Honey.” Condescending as fuck, but also kind of fitting considering her sweet scent.

  Her steely eyes soften and a small smile tugs at her lips. It’s a ghost of the ones from her pictures. “But you came back.”

  I grit my teeth and stare out the dark window. “To punish you,” I remind her. Then, I turn my scathing glare on her. “To fucking torture you.”

  She swallows and nods. “I saved you some food. It’s spaghetti.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I say, my voice deceptively calm. “You slipped out of your restraints, made yourself at fucking home, and cooked my food. At any point were you not worried I was going to take issue with this?”

  Her foot slips from my grip as she sits up. She tucks her legs beneath her and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. So innocent. Fuck. “My mom always said that it was better to ask for forgiveness than to beg for permission. Besides, you said you had cameras and would thwart my escape.” Her brows furl together as a wave of sadness washes over her. “Where would I go anyway?”

  “How did you get out of the chain?” I demand.

  “I’ve lost a little weight since we met,” she deadpans. “Slipped it right past my hips. The door wasn’t locked, though. You forgot.” Her tone indicates this is all my fault.

  I narrow my eyes. That’s something I never forget. Except, maybe this time I did.

  “You know the moment I get off this couch, I’m going to tear my clothes from your body. I’m going to put that chain back on you. Tighter. Much tighter.” I flash her a menacing smile. “And then I’m going to punish you.” When I start to rise, she pounces.

  Her fingers grip onto my sweater as she slides across my lap, straddling me. She stares at me with such a trusting expression that it shakes the foundation I’ve built everything upon. I don’t see Anta. I don’t see ugly and horror and ruin.

  I see a scared, lonely girl.

  Beautiful and unsure.

  Hope, pure and unfiltered, glimmers from her eyes that look almost silver in the moment.

  Sadly, for her, hope isn’t a reality. Hope is a dream.

  “Can we stay on the couch for a while then?” she whispers, her gray eyes pleading with mine. “Just for a minute, can we stay like this?”

  I grip her hips, ready to toss her aside, when her lips press to mine. Sweet and supple. Her honey tongue presses forward and rubs gently against mine.

  “Natalie,” I growl at her in warning against her lips.

  “Please stay, Cole.”

  I’m so stunned by the fact she knows my name, I’m dizzied by her kiss. She kisses me desperately as if her life depends on it. Essentially, it does. This bitch is fucking playing me and here I am sliding my palms up the back of her shirt, caressing her soft skin.

  “Cole,” she murmurs again, the name chasing away demons left and right. The darkness that always hedges in on me, scatters at her sweetness. She palms my cheeks and then runs her fingers into my hair. Her nails scratch my scalp, causing me to groan. My dick is hard and aching in my jeans. I should rip her nails off with pliers like I’ve done with them, but then she wouldn’t be able to do this.

  I’m weak.

  So fucking weak.

  “Cole,” she breathes again, her hips rocking in a mesmerizing way. The strokes against my cock have moans crawling up my throat. My hands greedily roam up her flesh. Up her back and around to her front. I palm her natural tits and run my thumbs over her hard nipples. She doesn’t argue when I tug at my shirt she wears and then pull it from her body. Her nakedness is once again mine from her waist up.

  Focus, man.

  Get her the fuck off your lap.

  A sweet moan ripples from her and I devour it. My palms slide around to her ass and dive past the hem of my sweatpants she’s wearing to grab a handful of her butt.

  Riiiiing!

  My phone starts ringing and it’s enough to pull me out of my haze. Nobody but Emily Grouper has my home number.

  Fuck.

  She only calls when she needs me.

  I toss Natalie onto the couch beside me and she yelps in surprise.

  “That was a mistake,” I growl. “A mistake you’ll pay dearly for.”

  HE GRABS MY WRIST AND hauls me to my feet. The phone continues to ring as he drags me through his house. I stumble and fall. I’m kept upright when he yanks me back up. As soon as we’re in the threshold of where he’s kept me for a week, he shoves me inside and then slams the door shut. The lock snaps into place and then his heavy footfalls thud through the house.

  His growly voice can be heard as he answers the phone. I press my ear to the door and try to listen.

  “Slow down,” he grumbles. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Are you crying? Who hurt you?”

  It’s almost like he cares.

  Color me shocked.

  My psychopath has someone he actually likes?

  “What?” he snaps. “You’re mistaken.”

  A pause.

  “Me?”

  Another pause.

  “No, I wasn’t at Whole Organics in fucking Seattle.”

  My ears perk up at this.

  “Kidnapping? You think I’d kidnap someone?” His voice sounds defensive even to me and I barely know him. “You know what, Emily? Back off. You’re doing that mother hen shit. Tell the twins I said hi. I love you girls, but you’re out of line.”

  He’s silent for a minute before he roars.

  “Em, I don’t care if you recognized my gait! What the hell does that even mean?”

  The house seems to pulse with his anger. I can feel it bleeding through the walls.

  “What the fuck ever,” he snaps. “I’ve gotta go.”

  He slams the phone down into the receiver and then the floorboards groan as he paces. My heart is skittering in my chest as I wonder what the call was about. Did she recognize him? Is my kidnapping on the news? Will someone find me?

  Will he find me?

  Dread curls in the pit of my stomach. Alan will no doubt be the c
ool, collected man outwardly, but he’ll be raging inside. He’ll want his precious sweetheart back.

  And then?

  I hug my naked middle and walk over to the bed. A shudder wracks through me as I sit on the edge.

  He will find me.

  No doubt about it. If this Emily lady recognized Cole, then maybe others will. It won’t take long for them to track me. Alan has the money and power to make it happen. He will come for me.

  I’m shuddering madly when the door swings open. His chest heaves and his brows are furled together as he glares at me. Cole Heart. I’d rummaged through his things while he was away and gone through his mail, confirming his name. I wanted to slip out the front door or call the police, but it would have been for nothing. If I had called the police, Alan would have found me. If I had run, Alan would have found me.

  As much as this man scares me, he’s still not like him. Cole stole me, starved me, cut me, and fucked me. And yet…I still find him preferable to where I’ve spent the last four years. Not to mention, I need to lie low until my birthday.

  “Did you call the police?” he growls.

  “No,” I squeak out.

  “Liar, liar,” he rumbles as he steps closer. “You’ll catch my sweatpants on fire.”

  Gone is the heat and unsureness in his brown-eyed stare. The wild, feral animal is back. The one who lives and breathes hatred. The one who wants to pluck and pluck at me until I’m nothing but a husk.

  Heart.

  I need Cole back.

  “You said you have video cameras,” I say softly. “If I called, you would’ve seen it, right?”

  He takes another step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Right. I watch your every move. I have traps all around this house. Don’t ever try to run or your punishments will be way worse.”

  When he’s standing right in front of me, I tilt my head up to look at him. “I’m sorry she hurt you.”

  His body ripples with rage and my tears blur him. Why do I always say the wrong thing?

  “You are her,” he says coldly as he gently strokes my temple with his knuckles.

  “I’m not,” I argue, tears leaking out and running down my hot cheeks.

  He grips my jaw and brings his face close to mine. I never understood the expression “devastatingly handsome” until now. He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him. Strong nose. Full lips that I know from experience taste too good to be so bad. His bones are sharp and seemingly carved from stone. It’s the eyes that are so crushing. All that beauty holding in the empty, dark abyss.

  Wrong.

  So wrong.

  Beauty should be reserved for the good and the kind, not the monsters hell-bent on destroying the innocent.

  “You are,” he growls. “Anta.”

  “Cole Heart,” I say, raising my voice, hoping to sound fiercer than I feel.

  He stiffens, the glimmer of light in his eyes flashing briefly. “Stop saying my name, bitch.”

  I wince at the name and recoil from him. “What would Emily think?” I demand tearfully. “What would she think of you holding some innocent woman captive? What would she think, Cole? Does she know you’re a rapist and a serial killer?”

  “STOP TALKING!” he roars, stumbling away from me. The heels of his hands rub at his eyes and his shoulders hunch. “Just shut the fuck up.”

  I stand and swipe away my tears. “No, because you need to hear this. I’m not this Anta. You know this. You’re making a mistake, Cole. It doesn’t have to be like this. I can help you.”

  “Help me?” he screams, his soulless eyes penetrating mine. “I don’t need help! I need vengeance!”

  He storms off and for a moment I think I’m spared. But then he returns with a handful of coiled rope. It’s blue, like the ocean on a warm summer day. Nothing about the rope though feels warm. It makes my heart skip in my chest.

  I try to make a run for it, but he’s quicker and stronger. He hooks an arm around my middle and then sets to swiftly wrapping the rope around my body. Easily, despite my struggles, he pins my arms at my sides as he wraps it around and around. A sob escapes me. He tightens the rope, crushing my ribs, and ties it off. I stare in horror when he pulls out a knife from his pocket. I’m worried he’ll cut me, but he saws at the rope instead. Then, he pushes me hard on my chest, sending me backward on the bed. I bounce and my wet hair flops into my face. Quickly, I shake my head so I’m not blinded against his attack.

  He disappears from the room but then reappears with a roll of duct tape. I start crying and he ignores me. With a quick yank, he pulls off a strip of tape and then kneels on the bed, straddling my bound body.

  “Silence, Anta.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but the tape seals my words inside. My nostrils flare as I attempt to suck in air. The rope crushing me isn’t helping my cause. Panic rises up inside of me and my heart stammers wildly.

  Now that I’m unable to move or argue, he settles his weight on my hips. His fingers stroke my hair away from my face. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him.

  How could I have ever thought I could befriend this guy? That he could be different than Alan? He’s the same. They’re all the same.

  “Much better,” he says softly, voice cold and unfeeling. “You look like all the rest. Act like all the rest. A manipulative whore. Did you know the other five women I brought here were more than happy to trade sexual favors for more days to live? But I must say, Anta, they didn’t give it up nearly as quickly as you. If I weren’t mistaken, I’d say you wanted it. Is that true? You like the monster’s cock inside you? Does it speak to your own evil, sweetheart?”

  I pop my eyes open and glower at him. If my eyes could speak, they would say, “Call me that again and I’ll show you what it means to suffer.”

  He arches a dark brow and a low chuckle rumbles from him. “Your eyes are so fucking creepy.”

  Since he doesn’t seem to like my eyes, I stare at him, unblinking. The ropes are too tight and my breathing is labored. Blackness begins to eat at the edges of my vision, but I refuse to let him crush me. I stare at the devil himself until I grow dizzy and the room spins.

  Black.

  Black.

  Black.

  My eyes roll back and I try to refocus. A spasm rolls through my body as my lungs desperately attempt to suck in air. When I can’t seem to do it, my head lolls to the side.

  Defeated and drifting.

  Finally free.

  I’m lost now in the dark, floating off in peace.

  No pain and no fear.

  Just float, float, floating.

  Natalie.

  The man calls to me in the darkness. I want to go to him, but I don’t know where he is. He’s hiding in the shadows of the darker part of the darkness.

  Natalie.

  I try to reach for him, but my body is numb and useless.

  I try to scream for him, but my lips are glued shut.

  Help!

  I’m calling out to him in my head, but he doesn’t hear me.

  It’s cold here. So cold. I don’t like it. I want to go back. The man calls for me again, but I’m so lost. So cold.

  Help!

  NatalieNatalieNatalie.

  Sobs overwhelm me.

  The black blinds me.

  I see nothing but nothing in the nothingness.

  Natalie…

  SHE GOES LIMP AS I’M removing my sweatpants from her body. Unusually quiet. Too still. It’s then I realize she’s done more than pass out. I don’t think she’s breathing.

  Panic rises up inside me.

  Too quickly. Too fucking quickly.

  She’s not supposed to die this fast. It’s meant to be slow and torturous. This isn’t fucking fair.

  I prowl over Anta, but then it’s Natalie’s tear-stained face I see. She makes a mess out of everything. Confuses the fuck out of me.

  “Natalie,” I bark, slapping her cheek to rouse her.

  No movement. Nothing.

  Fuck.


  I grab my knife and set to sawing through the rope. I must have tied it too tight. Her body is blue between the even bluer ropes. Fuck. Once I’ve loosened them, I yank them away and then rip at the tape.

  “Natalie.”

  Nothing.

  “Goddammit, Natalie,” I snarl. “Snap out of it.”

  Her lips are swollen from where I ripped away the tape, but she’s not fucking moving. My training kicks in and I do the unthinkable. I set to reviving her.

  Chest compressions.

  Tilt her head.

  Breathe.

  Chest compressions.

  Tilt her head.

  Breathe.

  This goes on for what feels like eons and then she’s gasping. Her body convulses and her gray eyes are wild with confusion. When they lock with mine, she bursts into tears.

  Accusing and sad.

  I fall against her, pushing the lingering rope away, and curl my body around her quivering one.

  “Calm down,” I order, my lips brushing against her cheek. “Calm down, Natalie.”

  Her name on my lips does the trick because she stills for a hot second before she clings to me. I don’t know what to make of this sixth victim. She’s fucking with my head. Changing my rules. Making me veer from my path.

  “Y-You hurt me,” she chokes out. “Why, Cole?”

  Guilt, an unfamiliar feeling in this house, cloaks me and suffocates me. Why, Cole? Fuck.

  “Shh,” I grunt. “You’re fine now.”

  “You hurt me,” she sobs. “You hurt me.”

  Fuck, why does she sound so goddamned small and innocent? She’s Anta. She’s them. She’s my prize for the hell I was put through.

  “You hurt me.” Her body shakes again. “Just like him.”

  Disgust slithers through me and I hate it. I don’t like the feeling. It reminds me of a time I’d like to forget. “I’m sorry.”

  We both freeze at my words. I didn’t mean to say them and she certainly didn’t expect to hear them. Before I can take them back, she hugs me tight and buries her face against my chest.