Chapter Four: Taken
Jamie's POV
I push my apartment door open and the smell hits me like a punch.
Sandalwood. Amber. Him.
It's everywhere. So thick I can taste it on my tongue. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I swear it's gonna crack one.
It's in my head. It has to be. I've been smelling him on my sheets for three months like a freak, but this is different. This is fresh.
I drop my bag with shaky fingers. "Just… just need a shower," I mutter to nobody. My voice sounds tiny.
The room is dark. I reach for the lamp. "Don't."
The word slices through the silence like a blade.
The lamp clicks on by itself and there he is.
Lounging in my ratty old armchair like a king on a throne. Legs spread, arms relaxed, eyes black and empty.
I slam back against the door so hard the knob digs into my spine.
My hands fly to the deadbolt I know I locked. I'm clawing at it like a trapped animal.
"Please," I choke out. Tears are already coming, hot and fast.
"Please don't kill me. I didn't tell anyone, I swear. I didn't call the cops, I swear…"
He doesn't even blink.
"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
His voice is calm. Too calm. It makes my skin crawl worse than screaming would.
He lifts his hand and there's a gun. Long, black, silencer attached like it's normal.
I stop breathing.
Then I see where it's pointed.
Not at me.
At the corner.
Mark is on his knees….Blindfolded….Gagged. Hands tied….Face bruised purple.
My stomach flips inside out.
"Okay!" I scream, throwing my hands up. "Okay, okay, please don't hurt him! I'll do anything, anything…"
Luther stands.
He's huge. Bigger than I remember. He crosses the room in two steps and suddenly I'm crushed against his chest.
Hard. Possessive. Like iron bars wrapped in muscle.
I'm shaking so bad my teeth chatter.
"I'm not here to kill you, my love," he whispers against my ear…His breath is hot. "You don't have to run anymore."
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are insane.
"My name is Luther. Let's start from there, princess"
*****
"You're fucking crazy!" I yell, trying to shove him off. My palms hit solid muscle. "This is insane! What do you want from me?!"
He just stares. Then grabs my wrist and drags me toward the bathroom.
Mark's in the tub. Tied up. Blindfolded.
Luther turns the faucet on.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Slow. Steady.
"At this rate," he says, voice flat, "it'll take fifty-seven minutes to fill the tub. Another few after that for the water to cover his face. You have one hour, my love."
I can't breathe.
He drags me out the door like I'm a doll.
Next thing I know I'm standing in front of Rosa at the cafe, voice dead, telling her I quit. Family emergency. Leaving town.
She's worried. "Jamie, honey, are you okay?"
I can't look at her.
Luther's waiting outside like a shadow.
"Can we go back now?" I beg, tears streaming. "Please, the water…"
He smirks. Actually smirks, grabbing my face to kiss me.
"Not yet. Saw a sweater. You'll look perfect in it, princess"
I try to yank free. "Luther, no! He's gonna drown!"
His eyes go from amused to arctic in half a second.
"I decide the timeline. Not you."
He drags me into some fancy boutique. Holds up this cream cashmere thing against me like we're a normal couple.
"It'll look so good on you," he murmurs, eyes glowing like a psycho.
I'm numb. All I hear is drip drip drip in my head.
Back at the apartment, the second the door opens, Mark bolts.
Blindfolded, stumbling, he runs for the stairs.
Luther doesn't even chase.
He just closes the door. Calm.
Walks to the window. Unzips a long black case.
I watch him assemble a rifle like it's Lego.
"What are you doing?" My voice is a whisper.
He looks through the scope. "Ten seconds."
I'm frozen.
"Three… two… one."
Phut.
So quiet.
Mark drops in the alley like a puppet with cut strings.
Dead.
He's dead.
Luther just killed him, right in front of me.
I scream.
Not words. Just raw sound, I throw myself at the door, pounding, clawing, nails splitting, blood on the wood.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
His arms wrap around me from behind. One hand clamps over my mouth.
"Fun's over, pretty boy.", Sharp prick in my neck. Then the world spins.
Black.
*****
I wake up in a car. Seatbelt tight across my chest. Head pounding and my mouth dry.
Streetlights flashing by.
He's driving. One hand on the wheel. Totally relaxed.
He feels me staring and glances over and smiles.
Slow. Possessive. Sick one.
His hand comes over, strokes my hair like I'm a pet.
"Don't worry, baby," he says, voice light and happy. "You're gonna love the new house. I built it just for you."
I can't speak. I can't move.
Tears roll down my cheeks and he wipes them away with his thumb, then licks it off like it's candy.
I stare out the window at the city disappearing behind us.
I'm never going home again…I'm his now.
And the scariest part?
Some tiny, broken part of me is relieved. He came back for me.