‘Kane, Kane,’ the voice was so sweet in the darkness. Kane opened his eyes. It was early, but his woman was awake. ‘Kane, I need to freshen up.’ The man sat up suddenly, facing away from her. ‘Kane,’ she implored. He turned to her. Lyra looked into his masked face; he didn’t understand. ‘I need to use your bathroom,’ she insisted. The creature looked down at her and proceeded to loosen the line of rope from the headboard. Lyra shifted out of the bed and followed him as he led her through the cabin to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, and Lyra waited. He did not leave. ‘No, alone!’ she insisted and raised her wrists for him to release her. She could sense that he was unmoved. ‘Kane, I can’t outrun you, please,’ she implored.
He waited; he wanted to hear her beg again. He enjoyed the waves of desire that darted through him when she begged.
‘Please, Kane.’ The words melted through him. He dropped his hands and slackened her bonds before pulling them from her wrists. Still, he remained in the doorway. Lyra sighed. ‘No,’ she stated with some attempt at being forceful. ‘I want the door closed.’ Kane glanced up at the window; it was tiny, no one could climb through it. He nodded slightly and closed the door. Lyra knew that he would be waiting on the other side but freshened herself none the less.
Lyra turned on the tap and was relieved to see flowing water. She washed her face and hands and raked damp fingers through her hair. Kane was still standing motionless in the hallway when she had finished. The rope was in his hands, waiting, and he nodded towards her wrists. Lyra sighed and raised them obediently. She noticed that he did not bind her wrists as tightly when he tied the rope about them again. Kane led her back into the bedroom and secured her in place before perching on the edge of the bed.
‘Kane?’ Lyra whispered. ‘What are you going to do with me?’ He turned his head. ‘I mean, you can’t keep me tied up forever.’ The masked face nodded as if to confirm that he could keep her as he wished. Lyra knew that there was little point in arguing with him and sighed. She would try another tactic. ‘Kane,’ she called again, knowing that he was very responsive to hearing his name. He nodded again as if to acknowledge that he had heard her.
‘When I woke, you were holding me.’ No response. ‘It was nice,’ Lyra continued. ‘I mean, it felt nice to have you touching me.’
Kane tilted his head, wondering if this was manipulation or genuine. Lyra recognised his concern, felt it as if it flowed from him. ‘Kane, I’m not trying to escape. I just want you to put your arms around me.’ Lyra looked up at him; he could break her in an instant if he thought she was betraying him. He terrified her, but he attracted her too, and she sensed that he wanted her; otherwise, she would be dead already. Plead with him, he likes it when you plead with him, she reasoned. ‘Please, please, Kane, hold me.’ The monster eased himself down next to her and placed his arm back around her. She nuzzled into his chest; his breathing was lighter than it had been. Lyra closed her eyes, her body snuggled into the giant physique of the killer.
Kane listened to her breathing; her body relaxed in his arms. She was not struggling or screaming; he dared to hope that he could turn her and make her stay with him willingly. He even hoped that she could someday accept him for what he was. Kane had slept enough; he seldom slept, and when he did, it was only ever for brief periods. He had to be vigilant and protect his wilderness; he had something else to protect too. His woman, the woman he had chosen to spare and save. The woman who had pleaded with him to save her.
Kane remained vigilant until the sound of bells rang in his ears. The ringing from trip wires and sensors he had placed about his land. Each sensor was attached by a wire to a particular bell and indicated where the trespassers were. Each bell was attuned to a certain key, and his hypersensitive hearing allowed him to work out where the intruders lay. Lyra was snoring softly. He eased himself away from her and stroked out of the room to collect his machete. The anger was welling; intrusion after intrusion destroyed his peace. He twisted the blade in his hand and marched into the dawn.
Sunrays brightened the room, and Lyra stirred in the light. She reached out but found herself alone. Kane had vanished. She called his name a few times, but there was no response. She was alone. The slackened binds allowed her some movement; she tried to pull her hands out. There was not enough room, so she twisted her wrists backwards and forwards and wiggled until the rope gave greater leeway. Her hands formed fists; she stretched at the rope and fidgeted a little more until one hand broke free from her shackles. The other bind was tighter, so she picked at it with her free hand, hoping to release herself whilst there was still time.
Hunters, ridiculous weak men who preyed on defenceless animals for fun. A pair of hunters, probably from out of the state, crouched behind a grassy mound overlooking the lake. Kane watched them from the trees behind. If they were successful, then they would return with others to haunt his land. Fortunately, there were only two of them on this occasion, and it would not take long to rid his wilderness of them. He watched as they loaded their rifles and aimed over the grass at some ducks that floated carelessly on the shimmering lake. Two bearded, chubby men dressed in camouflage stretched out on the mound; he would remove them for good, the bald one and the one with round glasses.
The bald one took a shot. A stream of ducks flew into the air, but one fell. The bald man leapt to his feet and punched a chubby arm into the air; he then sauntered over the grass and into the water, readily clad with waders, to collect his catch. The man with glasses remained behind the grass, watching. The bald man entered the water and paddled out to the spot where his catch lay, splashing up water as he did. Leaves crunched through the outskirts of the woodland, causing the bespectacled man to jump to his feet, turning to see what the noise was.
‘Hey, big fellow, what are you dressed as?’ he laughed, seeing Kane towering over him. Kane’s hands snapped up, locking on either side of the man’s head and twisting it fully around, causing a terrible cracking sound. He let the body drop and waited.
Lyra tussled for some time with the rope; she pulled and struggled with the knot. It was tight, and the more she pulled, the more it seemed to bite into her. She dug her fingers beneath the bind and tried to wiggle them to widen the gap. Her wrist chafed with rope burns, but she persisted none the less. Intermittently, she called Kane’s name to ensure that he was still absent. She would then return to pulling at the rope. He had spared her so far, but she had seen his temper and feared that his patience might not last.
The bald man stomped back up to the grass with a dead duck dangling from between his fingers. He could see his comrade lying in the grass.
‘Hey, Bill, you gone to sleep there?’ he joked as he headed up the mound. His eyes adjusted, and he stopped dead in his tracks. His friend’s neck was broken, more than broken; his head was fully twisted, and his wide-open eyes stared unblinking, rolled back into his head. ‘What the…’ he began. His sentence was cut short as a machete sliced his head in two between the eyes. Kane grabbed his leg and caught the twisted man’s leg too as he stomped past his corpse. The two bodies were dragged into the woods to be disposed of.
Lyra finally broke free. She struggled to remove her bound hand from the rope and grazed and burned her wrist and fingers as she pulled herself free. She threw off the duvet cover and rushed to the front room. There on the floor were the items of clothing that Kane had collected and her wet trainers. She rapidly slid a dry pair of leggings on her naked legs and yanked on her trainers. Without a second glance, she threw open the door, expecting to run to freedom. Her expectations were cut short when she saw the blood-soaked blade.
Kane stomped into the cabin, pushing her aside, and slammed the door shut, sliding the top bolt across. Lyra slunk into the sofa, her eyes fixed on the blade. Kane ignored her and picked up a rag. He stood at full height over her and used the rag to slowly and deliberately wipe the blood from the blade. Lyra opened her mouth in an attempt to explain what she was doing out of her binds but closed it again as she realised there was nothing that she could say that would serve any purpose. Kane’s chest heaved deeply; the rage had not yet subsided, and it had been further agitated by his woman’s obvious intransigence. He ran the rag up and down the blade for several long, painful minutes and relished in watching her cower before him.
Lyra remained still; she had allowed herself to forget what he was. He had held her so tightly, so protectively, that she had almost felt secure. It was not a feeling that she was accustomed to, having moved from place to place seeking her success since college. She never remained anywhere long enough to build meaningful relationships; she had never known what it was like to be wanted. Kane had given her that; he had made her feel wanted. She wondered if it was the sadist in him, the beast, that made her experience that security, albeit briefly.
Once the blade was clean, Kane dropped the rag to the floor. He stared through his mask at his woman. The fear was back in her eyes, and he liked her that way. She had disobeyed him; he flicked at the hilt and rapidly raised the machete over his head. The blade hung over her. She did not move; there was nowhere for her to go. Kane released the weapon and it fired into the floor by her feet. Lyra’s eyes closed as relief filled her.
She thought that Kane would drag her back to the bedroom and tie her up again, but he did not. There was no need. He knew that she was too afraid to act with him there.
‘Kane,’ she muttered at length and reached her arms out to him submissively. The rage subsided unexpectedly; he saw the resignation in her face and pulled her up into his strong, masculine arms. She was his woman, and he had no intentions of letting her go.
