I opened my mouth to reply, then realized he had moved on and probably didn’t want to hear me complain there weren’t enough synonyms for terrified.
There was silence in the room, other than the faint droning of the music Zero was listening to somewhere in the house. A few minutes later, he tapped a key on the keyboard, his brows drawn in irritation.
“That’s it?” His dark gaze flashed up at me. “You’re only on page six?”
“I thought I was doing pretty well.”
“Six pages in two days is a bit slow.”
“Does it matter?”
He grunted at me again. He shut the lid of Zero’s old laptop and slid it across the desk to me. “Keep going.”
Was that…approval? Well, he hadn’t told me to delete it, or to never write again for the sake of humanity. That had to be a good sign, especially considering he didn’t like me.
“It’s okay?”
“It’s rough, but as long as you can take critique and learn from it, you might do well.”
Do well? Like…really?
Excitement coursed through me where moments ago I’d started to wonder if I should scrap the idea of writing entirely and spend the summer reading and napping.
“You think so?” I smiled at him.
His dark brows snapped into a straight line. “Don’t get too excited, little monster. You have a lot of work to do. You’re using crayons for now, but you’re getting your point across. Jenny needs to feel her terror more keenly.”
“My name is Sadie, not monster.”
“Sadie—such an adorable label for a mind so filled with darkness.”
I didn’t say anything, not sure if he was mocking me or paying me a compliment. Knowing Vandal, it was probably both.
“How are you going to give Jenny’s feelings more realism, Sadie?”
“I guess I’ll close my eyes and try to imagine it better?”
“You could. Maybe to start with you could work on it at night with the lights off, since she’s entirely in the dark.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I could, but there’s still some light that comes in, plus the glow from the laptop screen. Maybe I could sit in the closet or something.”
“Or the basement,” he suggested.
“What’s this about the basement?” Zero asked from behind me.
“She’s looking for somewhere to sit so she can try to imagine how Jenny is feeling,” Vandal replied. “It’s colder down there, and dark. The ceiling feels low. Could work.”
Vandal got up and beckoned, leading the way to a narrow door in the main floor hallway which I’d assumed was a linen closet. The door had an old-fashioned key sticking out of the keyhole, but the door opened without a need to turn the key.
He flicked on the light switch outside the door, illuminating a steep set of wooden stairs that led into the dim glow. The stairs were open and narrow, and even though the light was on, I couldn’t help but feel like something might grab my ankles as the three of us made our way down. The room we arrived in was creepy, with dirt and bedrock rather than an actual floor, and the ceiling did, indeed, feel low. We could stand up straight—the guys just barely. I felt like I needed to duck so I didn’t bang my head even though there was no danger of that unless I strayed under the stairs.
With the three of us in the space, it felt small, even though it had to be eight paces in each direction.
“When the snow melts in the spring, we get a bit of water running through here,” Vandal said, showing me the divot in the floor where the water had left a path in the dirt. It still looked a bit damp, although it didn’t smell like mold, which was nice.
There wasn’t a stick of furniture, which suited me fine.
“My grandmother used to use this as a cold cellar in the summer. This is what your scene made me think of, actually.”
“It’s perfect,” I said, scanning around me.
Vandal grunted.
“Stay down here as long as you like.” Vandal turned back and went up the stairs.
In the light of the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling behind him, Zero looked ominous and like a stranger.
“You want the light off?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But? Do you want me to stay?”
“No, I think I need to be alone, but do you think he has some rope I could borrow? I want to tie my hands, the way Jenny’s are in the story.”
One corner of his sexy mouth quirked. “Yeah, I’m sure there’s rope around somewhere. Do you want handcuffs, bondage tape, shibari rope, or something rough?”
“Rough, please.”
He flashed me a grin. “Oh, I’ll give you rough, all right.”
I grimaced at him, and he headed up the stairs, an evil laugh trailing behind him.
Dork.
He was back maybe two minutes later with something that looked like hemp rope and a knife.
I looked askance at the knife.
“It’s for the rope.”
“Likely story,” I shot back.
“It could be for you instead, if you like. It’s hard to find partners for knife play.”
“Aww. And me without my safeword…”
“If I’m tying you up, maybe you should have one,” he joked.
“Winter.”
His expression grew more serious, although a hint of humor still played around his lips. “Not a big fan of winter?”
“I hate being cold, and my apartment is freezing in the winter. Was freezing.”
He nodded. “Vandal mentioned your apartment was…bad.”
“He used the word bad?” I asked, not believing that for a second.
“Shithole was the word he used, but I was trying to be polite.” He held up the rope. “So in your story, were Jenny’s arms tied in front of her, or behind her back?”
“He tied her arms behind her, then ripped her shirt down the front.”
Without comment, he moved behind me, tying my wrists together with such brisk efficiency it removed all doubt that he did this regularly—hopefully with willing partners. I felt him cutting the rope to the proper length after I was tied, and knowing the knife was there and sharp gave me goose bumps. The rope wasn’t too tight, but I didn’t think I was getting loose anytime soon without help, either.
“You keep shivering like that, and I’ll be tempted to help you take this experiment further.”
I glanced over my shoulder and arched a brow at him.
“Oh? And what are you volunteering to do to me?”
He shrugged. “I guess that depends on what you want from me. I could turn out the light and leave you down here, alone, or we could role-play through your scene.”
“You think you’re mean enough for that?”
His smile was quiet and a bit disturbing. “I’m no monster, but I do contain one.”
Why was I shaking? He seemed like a good guy and had only jokingly flirted with me. Vandal was upstairs, so if I screamed he’d hear me and intervene, wouldn’t he? All my aunt knew was I was staying with a friend. Vandal had supervised my phone call.
“Can you leave me down here in the dark for a long time, then come back and rough me up intermittently?” My nipples were already poking at the thin fabric of my T-shirt, anticipating his touch. I’d been ready for bed, so I wasn’t even wearing a bra. I felt vulnerable and perilously close to naked.