*not edited* 

a meh chapter from me... sorry :(

|11.

Perhaps it was the way my voice broke when I called out for him. Or maybe he was caught off guard by me calling him by his name. Or for all I know, it could just be that my kidnapper was more human than I gave him credit for.

But either way, something I had done had clicked and he turned around and walked back to where I was bound.

"Don't mess with me Kessiya." He warned, his tone forbidding, making all the muscles in my body contract. "No funny business. Nothing like what happened before in the car."

I blinked back the tears that had clouded my vision, being careful not to show how much gratitude I really felt at him coming back for me.

"I promise," I found myself saying. "I'll be the perfect kidnappee." Okay, maybe that was a bit too much.

Mortes left eye twitched at my comment but he ignored it and crouched behind me, making quick movements and before I knew it, I could feel my blood rushing back to my unbound arms again. The relief was quick as my shoulders ached and my fingers tingled painfully with pins and needles. But I was grateful that I could now move my arms more freely.

"Get up." He commanded and I wanted to do as he said. I really did. But I couldn't. My body- my lower body, just wouldn't cooperate.

No matter how much I willed my legs to move, they remained still and immobile like dead weight. After being bound for the last couple of hours, my arms and legs had gone to sleep and now I was practically paralysed with no way to move.

With a grunt I tried to roll myself to my knees but the task was impossible. With heavy hands I tried to lift my left leg into a bent position but the moment I moved my arms away, my leg collapsed back to the floor again.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Morte asked, watching me with an incredulous expression. His thick eyebrows scrunched in confusion as my propped up legs fell back for the third time.

I felt my cheeks burn as I gave up and looked up at my kidnapper. "I think my legs have fallen asleep." I explained. "I can't stand up."

He threw his arms out in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He yells, annoyed.

I shake my head, getting the feeling that giving a verbal reply would just drive him to the edge.

"I should have fucking shot you. It would have saved me so much time and stress." He growled, reaching down and pulling me up from the ground.

I bite my bottom lip hard to stop myself from screaming when he throws me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. Immediately my body tenses, my brain filling with embarrassing thoughts about how heavy I probably am. I mean Morte's a tough looking guy and he's got the muscles to show for it, but still- I'm not the lightest woman around and that's no secret.

But my mind is quickly distracted when a heavy hand grips me right under my butt, nudging me up his shoulder.

I gulp at the dangerous position of his hand on my body, my body going rigid for a completely different reason now.

Never in my life had anyone touched my body like this. The closest touch I had got from a non-relative male was from Millie's brother Cole, who had a habit of hugging me every time we met. Not that I ever complained. Cole was a special breed of male; good looking, kind, friendly, loving- well the list goes on. But even Cole only ever touched me in the 'brotherly' manner.

This however, did not feel very 'brotherly.'

As his thick fingers dug into my thigh, I tried very hard to relax my body in order to not put more weight onto him. It was already super embarrassing to be carried like a sack of potatoes but I don't think I could survive the humiliation if Morte struggled to carry my weight.

"Why are you so tense?"

I was too busy trying to relax my body that I missed his words at first. "What?" I ask, lifting my face from his back slightly so my voice wasn't muffled.

"I said, why are you so tense?" He repeats and I almost cringe, realising my attempt to relax my body hadn't quite worked.

Feeling slightly nauseous as Morte turned around and started walking back out of the warehouse, I found myself gripping tight onto the material of his shirt.

"Uh-" I close my eyes, the sudden movement making my empty stomach churn. "I just feel a little light headed." I answer, my fingers still buried in top.

I feel him grunt in reply, his shoulder bobbing with every step he takes. "Just bear with it," he tells me, "the cars parked close by."

I nodd, though that action simply worsens my light-headedness. My hair swishes around my head, blocking most of my view until we finally leave the darkness of the warehouse and step out into the open air.

Feeling the cold air again on my skin feels incredible and for the first time since I was kidnapped I feel a sense of calm again. Inhaling deep, my urge to chuck seems to fade slightly.

Morte keeps walking, while I continue to hang limp over his shoulder. I still haven't forgotten the firm hand that remains on my thigh, dangerously close to a place where no man had ever gone before. But after walking for a little bit, I had gotten used to the warmth it gave.

Finally, just as my stomach twisted uncomfortably and my head had started to spin like a merry-go-round, Mortes hand clenched around my thigh before slowly lifting me back down to the ground. Grateful to have my feet back on the floor, I stepped away quickly, just as all the blood rushed from my head.

"Oh shit!" I find myself whispering as my body falls back in what seems to be slow motion. Just as I'm sure I was going to meet the ground painfully, a strong arm wraps around my abdomen and pulls me quickly into a hard surface. Finding myself smushed against his thick ass strong-as-marble chest, I try to multitask, being embarrassed while also figuring out if I'm steady enough to stand by myself.

Get a freaking grip, Kes. You're supposed to be a badass, independent queen. Why the hell are you acting like a complete damsel in distress?

I breathe out deeply, my feet firm on the concrete ground. "Uh yeah I'm good now, thanks." I tell him when I realise his arm is still wrapped tightly around my waist, leaving pretty much no breathing space between us.

He hesitates and some unrecognisable emotion clouds his dark eyes momentarily before he drops his muscled limb from me.

"I don't have time to be messing around saving you every second you act like a fucking princess," He abruptly spits, making me flinch. "So if you're gonna act like this then I'll leave you here."

And then before I could comment he leaves me, walking around to the driver seat of his car and gets in.

Well...

I know there is no chance I was going to stay here by myself so with a quick glance around me I quickly jogged to join in him the car.

Without even waiting for me to put the seatbelt on, he reverses in a sharp jerk which leaves me falling head forward, saving myself from a concussion by steadying myself on the dashboard, and escalates out down a gravely road onto the main road.

My assumption was right- I was held in an abandoned warehouse. There were no other buildings anywhere in close proximity and from the outside, the warehouse itself was practically falling apart. A faded metal sign above the warehouse said 'Bolton' something. The rest of the writing was illegible.

I turned to the man beside me.

"You know," I start, crossing my arms over my chest, "any other kidnapper would have blindfolded me so I couldn't see the location."

I don't know why on earth I said that but when he doesn't reply, I go to speak again.

"I c-"

"Don't make me turn back." He warns, eye like knives piercing me with a glare.

I purse my lips together and knowing he wasn't bluffing I sit back in the seat. Not knowing where we were, or even where we were heading I simply watched the plain fields pass us by, a blur of brown and green with the occasional white crumbling buildings far and wide.

Soon though, my curiosity started spreading her probing wings and I twisted my head to look at my kidnapper again.

Feeling my gaze, his right eyebrow raised. "What?" He grunts.

I lick my dry lips, pulling the bottom one into my mouth.

"So, is Morte your actual name, or is it like code or a nickname or something?" I ask.

He is quiet and I sigh realising he wasn't going to answer my question.

Looking back outside, I settled into the carseat, getting as comfortable as I could while still reminding myself that I was still a hostage and my kidnapper was still beside me with a gun somewhere on his body.

A couple minutes pass by and I had forgotten I had even asked him, when he speaks up out of the silence.

"It's my name."

My attention flicks back, "Oh right-" I pause, pondering on it for a second, "it's a cool name. What does it mean?"

He slows down slightly as we begin to head into what appeared to be a local town and more cars appear on the road.

Right now would be a perfect time to jump out of the car and run for it. It wasn't like New York- where the streets are packed with people, but there were still enough walking around that if I screamed for help I was sure someone would come to my aid.

But I don't.

Mainly because I wasn't looking at the people.

I was looking at him.

There's something about his eyes when he says the next word. Something lonely and lost. And while I know that he's the bad guy, especially when he tells me what he says next, I can't look away.

His long fingers hold tight to the steering wheel and when he breathes in, his cheeks hollow out.

He whispers.

"It means death." 

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