When he makes his way toward me, I step back in reflex.
Spider seizes my wrist and yanks me to him. He fists my hair, pulling my head back, leaving me no route of escape. Those perfect blue eyes trap mine. “What did I tell you last night before we left the strip club?”
My brain rushes to catch up, but I’m not sure what he’s referring to.
“Obedience keeps you alive,” he reminds me. “Don’t give me a reason to kill you.”
And just like that, it’s as if he’s flipped a switch inside me. That reasonless fear I felt earlier today seeps in, and the fight goes out of me. My gaze shoots to the floor and my arms drop.
I’m incapable of going against him, paralyzed with a fear of something that has no face, no form. Envisioning hellfire and pain that that makes no sense.
But that’s the thing—Spider is as far from a Colony soldier or pastor as they come, but make no mistake, he can hurt me. The clubhouse might not have an isolation chamber, but Spider has made it clear, he can bring his own brand of hell down on me if he chooses. Suddenly, I’m the Colony robot again, an obedient servant bound for hell if I resist.
A half a second later, I manage to shake the stupor off, meet his gaze, and nod. This is the wrong time to fight. He has far too much advantage here.
Spider slips the collar around my neck and clips the hook at the end of the chain to the loop at the front of the collar. Then he tugs me over to the bed. “Sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”
As soon as I sit, he slips the loop at the other end of the chain over the bed knob.
“Are you going to punish me?” I ask his feet.
He cups my chin with his fingers. “Yes.”
The pleasure in his tone sends a spear through my heart and compels my eyes to meet his. There’s a world of experience in his gaze, and a promise of pain. And of carnal things I’ve been raised my whole life to believe no woman should know before marriage.
Desperate for some way to prepare myself for the hell ahead, I look away and force myself to ask. “What… What will you do?”
He sweeps my curls behind my shoulders. There’s no warmth in that touch. It’s gentle, but the way a man would be gentle when taking care of his favorite toy. “I’m going to fuck you.”
Again, my eyes dart to his. He said that with such shameless matter-of-factness that it leaves me breathless. After last night, he knows I’ve never been with a man. He has to know I’m terrified, and he doesn’t care.
Turning my face up to his, he traces my mouth with his thumb. “Sit tight.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
My hands shake. Dear God, it would have been better if he’d just had his way with me first instead of bothering with feeding me. Now I have to sit here waiting for him with my mind spinning over what he’ll do to me. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I could just disappear. Wishing I’d tried harder to get away.
The chain dangling from my neck clinks softly, and I stare at the length of it that reaches up to the bedpost, shocked that he has anything like that.
Then I remember. I’ve heard about those things before.
The leader of His Holy Peace, David Gild, once told the congregation that there were men in the outside world who took women as slaves. That they held them prisoner with leashes just like this one. I’d be terrified that Spider owns a slave chain, but I’m not a slave, and I know he doesn’t see me as one.
If he did, I’d be beaten and kept chained to a wall or in a cell. Spider wouldn’t have let me escape, and he’d have killed me the minute I tried. I wouldn’t have the kinds of freedom I’ve been given.
Still. Is that sort of containment measure standard for bikers when they don’t trust a woman not to bolt? It’s unnerving to see yet another truth in the stories the pastors warned us about. This MC is starting to feel alarmingly like the hellish world they were referring to. How much more of what they said is true?
When Spider returns, he’s carrying a tray with two bowls of chili, a couple of rolls, a bottle of water, and a beer. Condensation covers the sides of the bottles. The water looks wonderfully cold.
“Ten minutes. Eat up.” He gives me the tray, sits on the bed beside me, takes a bowl and the beer, and sets the bottle on the floor.
I devour the meal but taste none of it. Anxiety tightens my chest as the minutes tick by, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he does whatever twisted things he’s been waiting to do to me.
Spider says nothing while he eats and hardly takes his eyes off of me. He downs half his beer and offers me a drink. I shake my head jerkily.
“Suit yourself.” He takes another pull.
My nipples tighten under that searing stare. He looks at me as if he owns me.
Seth used to stare at me, but unlike when Spider does it, he never made me feel as if my blood was on fire. Every time Seth’s eyes were on me, it made my skin crawl.
When we’ve both finished eating, my captor sets the dishes on the nightstand and rises to his feet. “All right, time to get you cleaned up. Get up.”
My mind races. It takes a Herculean effort to rise to my feet. There’s zero hope of stopping him. Resistance would only postpone the inevitable.
Standing before him, I marvel at how huge he looks, how bone-crushingly strong. His eyes rake over my body, drinking everything in as if it’s his right.
I’m so not ready for this.
“Spider—“
He puts his fingers to my lips. It’s written all over his face, my fate is sealed. Helplessness sets in, my throat tightening.
Spider takes the chain off of me, leaving it hanging from the bedpost, then removes the collar from my neck and tosses it on the bed.
He thumbs one of my nipples until it bunches in response. “So perfect. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” His voice is a carnal growl.
Humiliation scalds my cheeks and I look away.
“You really do hate me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You know that turns me on, right? The harder you fight, the harder you make me.”
I immediately go still, and he smirks. He pats my ass and releases me, gesturing for me follow him to the bathroom.
Running for the door would only make things worse, so I roll my head back and follow him. He flicks on the shower, and while the water warms up, he has me brush my teeth. He does the same, standing at the sink beside me. When we’re done, he tests the water. Steam rises from the stall. He nods for me to get in and strips himself down.
Much as I hate the idea of having to shower with him, the water feels amazing. The hot spray soaks my skin and hair, washing away the sweat of the day, rejuvenating me. Until Spider steps in after me.
The man is beautiful, every inch of him layered with muscle, his chest and arms covered in inked works of art. But his huge frame also makes the average sized tub feel small and cramped. His erection juts up from between his legs, proud and hard and as monstrous as it felt in my mouth last night.
My sex tightens, but so does my stomach. He fists his shaft and slides his hand up and down, the corners of his mouth twitching when he sees me staring. I press myself to the wall before I consider my actions.
Spider seizes my wrist, yanking me to him, his expression hard and merciless. I look away, and he jerks my face to his.
“Look at me. No hiding from me.”