Kane snapped his head to look at Lyra. Her eyes opened; his name had left her lips. She had been dreaming about him, dreaming or having a nightmare. Lyra jerked forward, but her bound hands restrained her movement. Kane looked down at her; she was afraid. For a short time, she struggled to free her hands, but it was to no avail. Lyra closed her eyes again; she was alive. He tried to kill her, but she was alive. If he had wanted her dead, then she would be dead, or at least that is what she reasoned. Instead, he had brought her back to his cabin. Her eyes opened again, and she stared at him. Did he have other plans for her?
Lyra’s throat burned; she tried to cough but could not. She could feel the bruises swelling on her neck.
‘Water.’ The whisper burned too. Kane looked at her. She wondered if he could understand her. ‘Water, please, Kane.’ In one aggressive motion, the man jumped up and stalked from the room. Lyra sank her head back into the pillow. Her eyes wandered down the bed. This was her duvet, and she was clean. She fidgeted so that the duvet shifted down the bed. Not only had he collected her duvet, but he had changed her clothes and her underwear had been removed. A warm blush filled her cheeks. Her body was clean and dry; he must have washed her. Lyra could hear Kane fumbling around in the next room, and he soon returned with an old mug in his hands.
‘Untie me, please,’ Lyra asked. Kane held the mug of water under her nose. ‘Kane, untie me.’ Lyra nodded at the water. Kane stared at her as she spoke; he did not respond, but instead put the mug to her lips. Lyra sipped at the drink. It was tepid at best, but as she swallowed, the liquid soothed her throat. Lyra finished the drink quickly. Kane put the mug on the desk and returned to her bedside, towering over her, eerily motionless. He had a huge physique, powerful and frightening.
Lyra was trapped. She did not know how to escape from this monster but reasoned that any attempt to do so would result in further injury. She sighed deeply with resignation. Her best chance of survival depended on her cooperation; fighting the man had failed. Kane could crush her if he chose to do so; she could still feel his hands on her neck. The figure continued to loom over her in an uneasy silence.
‘Kane,’ Lyra rasped. He tilted his head down further as if to acknowledge that she had spoken. ‘Just, just don’t hurt me anymore.’
Those words; why did she have to say those words? Did the woman not realise how much they excited him? He could feel a pressure growing within him. Lyra tipped her head back so that she could take in his whole form. He seemed even larger than he had in the woods. His silent stare filled her with dread and something else. Something more subtle; someone so powerful could hide her from the rest of the world, keep her safe forever. After all, she had moved to Maple Cabin to escape from the rest of the world. Lyra eased herself deep into the mattress. She wanted to test him, to see if he felt the tension between them too.
Lyra stared back at her captor; she could see his blue eyes clearly in the dim light of the room. One was slightly skewed, but both were fixed on her. She held his gaze; her long lashes blinked as she breathed him in. She thought of his hands on her throat, the rage that had driven him and how he had tended to her so delicately afterwards. She had been terrified of his cruelty, but the fear gave way to a deeper feeling, a sense of urgency and desire. The more she thought over his duplicitous nature, the man and the monster, the more her body betrayed her.
A light moved and waved outside of the window; the light danced about for a while. Kane peered at it, but this was not his usual aggressive response. Lyra waited to see if he moved, but he remained fixed to the spot. The sound of a clatter at the front door echoed through to the bedroom, followed by uneven footsteps.
‘Boy,’ the voice called. Lyra recognised it instantly; it was Harlon. ‘Boy!’ he called again. ‘I moved the old banger and tomorrow I’ll strip it and…’ The man’s voice trailed off as he reached the room’s threshold. Lyra could see the shock in his eyes; his mouth dropped, and he stared at the strange scene.
‘Boy, what you done now?’ the old man asked at length. Kane shifted his stare from Lyra to Harlon. Harlon was the nearest thing to a friend that Kane had. He relied on the old man to fetch anything he needed from town and assisted in disposing of bodies and unwelcome vehicles. Harlon also served as a reminder to the townspeople that Kane’s territory had to be left undisturbed. Harlon assessed the situation in his partly inebriated mind. ‘You can’t go tying women up like that, boy.’ Kane continued to stare at the old man. ‘Now, what you going doing to this girly?’
Lyra caught the old man’s drift. Was Kane planning on raping her? She mouthed silently,
‘Help me.’ Kane turned his head to her in response. He raised his hand and placed a finger over her lips, warning her to stay silent.
‘I can’t do that, missy,’ Harlon slurred. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t.’ His words agitated Lyra; she mustered a shard of courage and retorted,
‘So, you not only aid a killer, but now you’re going to let him rape me? Great morals.’ Her words bit through Kane’s being; if he had wanted to rape her, he could have, anytime. Kane placed one finger over her lips again and, with the other hand, clasped her throat as a warning.
Harlon watched, unmoved; he had seen much worse things.
‘Lady, you’re alive, so think yourself lucky,’ he muttered. He then turned his attention to Kane. ‘That what you left up with me, I moved it for you.’ Lyra thought carefully back over the conversation; the car, the thing, Kane had killed someone else. She wanted to ask who, but Kane had already warned her not to speak again and, given his earlier rage, she opted not to pursue the matter. ‘I’m going in town early, boy,’ he continued. ‘You need anything?’ Kane remained still. Harlon nodded to his captive. ‘She need anything?’ he added. Kane looked down at his woman, his woman; he pulled his hands away and pointed towards the old man.
‘He wants to know if you need anything?’ Harlon interpreted. Lyra could not believe how bizarre her situation was. First, he broke into her home, then he tried to kill her, kidnapped her, changed her clothes and now he wanted to know if she needed anything.
‘Freedom? Sanity?’ Lyra replied sarcastically. Kane tilted his head and stroked his hand over her lips again. Another warning. ‘I don’t know,’ Lyra replied honestly. Her mind was a mess. Kane stroked her lips and cheek. Lyra tipped her head and stared at Harlon, her eyes pleading for help. Harlon was used to silent communication and knew exactly what she was asking.
‘You gonna hurt her more, boy?’ he asked. Kane’s masked face looked back to the old man. ‘I think you best do as he wants, missy.’ Harlon took a swig from his bottle. ‘Yep, do as he wants,’ the old man stammered as he turned and staggered from the room. The torchlight flicked past the window, and then he was gone.
Kane wondered if his woman had listened to the old man. She had to obey him, or else she would end up like everyone else who had crossed his path. Lyra tried to guess the time; she reasoned that they were well into the early hours of the morning and wondered if Kane slept. She knew that even if he did, she would not be able to loosen her bonds, but his threatening stature towering over her all night seemed a disconcerting prospect at best.
‘Kane,’ she mumbled softly, so as not to alarm the monster. ‘Will you sit with me?’ He did not answer. ‘Kane, please, I’m scared,’ she pleaded. He looked into her doe eyes; she was scared, not as much as she had been earlier that night, but there was still fear within her. He liked her fear, but he could see that she was drained, exhausted and in pain. He liked her pain too; that vulnerability stirred him. To her surprise, Kane turned and walked out of the room. She could hear the scrape of matches. He lit a few torches in the hallway and returned, turning the light off en route. Kane then perched himself awkwardly on the bed next to Lyra. He noticed that the blanket had been shifted down and pulled it back up over her.
Lyra watched as he shrouded her body with the duvet. Her heart lurched as she watched him remove his glove in the shadows. She dreaded to think what he intended to do, but her mind was eased as he ran his hand gently through her hair. He brushed the locks away from her face and caressed her head and neck with gentle strokes. So gentle, so very different from the rage-filled beast she had seen chasing her through the trees. His strokes reassured her, warmed her and gave rise to conflicting emotions; desire for his protection and fear of his wrath.
She was too tired to analyse these complex feelings, too tired to run or fight. She just wanted to sleep, even if that meant sleeping next to a monster. She was alive, and he had had ample opportunity to kill her if he had wanted to. Harlon’s warning slipped into her mind again; providing she was obedient, she would remain alive. If he wanted to touch her, she would let him. For a brief moment, she wondered what she would do if he wanted more than just to touch her, but the fatigue engulfing her drove the thought to the back of her mind. Even the discomfort of the ropes digging into her wrists did nothing to drive the sensation away. In her lethargy, she tipped her head and rested it against his strong thigh. The stroking continued until the darkness once again consumed her.
The woman was asleep; he watched her for a while and then lay down next to her. The bed was small, and the only way he could fit was by pulling her close to him. Kane loved the feeling of her nubile body pressing into his. He could feel his arousal growing, but he would not act on it. Not yet! He held her close and listened to her deepening breathing. He had plans for her; he wanted to hurt her, and he wanted her to want it. He wanted her to want so much more. She was obeying him out of fear, but in time, that could change.
Kane touched his bare hand to his face; she could never see it. She would hate him. He had already hurt her, and she probably hated him and feared him now, but she would hate him so much more if she saw beneath the mask. He would force her to want him, show her the fine line between pain and pleasure. Kane cautiously wrapped an arm about her and held her tightly. He wanted that feeling to last. Lyra shuffled slightly and turned awkwardly against the ropes; her head buried unwittingly into Kane’s chest and he resumed stroking her hair. She moaned under his touch; his eyelids closed. He had never heard such a pleasurable sound.
