At the end of that week, on Saturday specifically, she stood in front of the mirror, nervously smothering the side of her black dress even though it wasn't rumpled. She had dressed up prettily in a black dress and packed her hair into a bun as the note in the parcel had instructed.

Dinner at 8 on Saturday. At the new fast food just outside your estate. Sure you know the name, can't miss it. And dress pretty for me in a black dress, with your hair up, amore. —The note read.

As she made her way to Chop taste, the fast-food he had instructed she met him, she stopped for a bit to send a text to Anna, telling her where she was headed... she did that just in case that was the last they saw of her. At least they could trail links to find her dead body and bury it. Not that she'd deserve a burial.

Making her way into Tasty foods, she concluded that maybe she deserved whatever was happening to her. I'm not a saint after all.

He had the guts to smile as he saw her approaching, keeping the menu he had busied himself with. "Ah. My princess approaches." he made a mock bow.

She furrowed her brows trying to place why he was acting so cool. He had her life in his hands. He should be more hostile not behaving like some clown.

He signaled for a waitress and ordered for them both, harping on how she'd enjoy their toasted chicken he'd the opportunity to have enjoyed some days ago.

She rolled her eyes inwardly knowing she didn't care.

"So princess, aren't you going to talk to me." He took his hands up her face, trailing her cheekbones and then her jaw. She turned her face away as his hands neared her lips. "At least do me the honor of hearing your beautiful voice."

"What do you want?" She asked plainly, meeting his eyes with a boldness she didn't know she had.

"Ah!" He chucked. "You ask me that? You, my love."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by me?"

As he looked at her with hooded eyes and tuck his lip between his teeth, she knew what he meant. He wanted in her panties. If that was what it took to live a normal life again, they should've to do it.

"Okay," she croaked out.

His eyes widened in unmistaken delight. "Okay? You'd be mine? I thought you'd play a little hard to get."

"What's there to play? Okay, I'll sleep with you and you'll give me all the evidence of threat you have against-"

"Hold on, missy." His voice had risen, angrily. "Sleep with you? Is that what you take me for?" He touched his chest. "I'm greatly wounded."

She stared at him confused, what the hell was wrong with this psycho? There, he was a psycho.

She opened her mouth to ask what his deal was but remained silent as he indicated for her to. He smiled kindly at the waitress as she brought his order, placing them gently on the table. "Let's dine."

She didn't touch her food, she couldn't.

He looked up to see her plate untouched. "Princess, you're going to make me very angry. Eat up," he urged, his voice on the edge. "Now!" he barked and she shook startled.

Half the restaurant turned to look at them, but he didn't seem to care, all he did was cut a chicken and held it in front of her. "Good girl, " he cooed as she opened her mouth to take it.

She started to shove chicken and salad into her mouth, scared of what he might do. What had she gotten herself into? Who was this demented being sitting across from her?

As he watched her shove food into her mouth, with shaky hands and eyes filled with fear, it turned him on. She was such a tease to him, trying to be tough with her questions and assumptions. How could she have assumed he'd just wanted to sleep with her, he was genuinely angry at that. He wanted more, he wanted to bed her, yes, and then he'd wife her and have her carry his babies. His sick mind had concluded that she was his wife, his soulmate... dark together in hearts.

"You know you're coming with me tonight, right?" He asked watching her closely.

He watched her become more scared and unsettled, he became harder in his pants.

"Where?" She asked, carefully, but he had taken it as her being shy. Oh God, she couldn't be perfect enough. She's shy to me.

"To our home of course."

"What do you mean our home?" She hissed sharply at him, her eyes widening as she realized her tone might've been offensive. Good girl.

"Okay, maybe not yet our home. To my home then, love."

"Must I?"

"Oh no, you mustn't. You could try to fight me off and make me angry, or even happier," He said darkly. And he meant it. He hoped she'd put up a fight so he could make a show of his strength, displaying how he could overpower her, both here and in bed.

"God. What are you?" She asked in a tired cry.

"I'm yours."

He trailed her lips with his fingertips as she stood at the side of his bike, then he proceeded to clasp his spare element on her head. He saw her discomfort in having to ride with him on the bike, but she had no choice because, he had insisted they rode together to his home and she couldn't object— there wasn't much she could do. He owned her. Had her in his palms. She was his.

As he rode the bike in speed, he had on countless occasions intentionally go on a bump, just so she could press further into him. He loved feeling her body against his. She felt perfect, and she was indeed perfect. Perfectly made for him.

She yelped when he stopped his bike at the front of his home. Her eyes widened in recognition as she looked around taking in her surroundings, and then finally rested her eyes on the house across his own. The house that she had the most dreadful meeting of her life.

"My home." He gestured to the large duplex that was almost falling, its roof rusted and it's dwelling looking and feeling deserted.

Had he kidnapped me? Will he sell me? If he did, then he'd get away with it because, the area was secluded, and his no one would bother checking in a falling building he called home.

His one-room apartment was surprisingly neat and arranged. He walked gracefully to a reading table and poured a liquid from a bottle into a cup. "Drink," he commanded holding the cup in front of her.

With shaking hands, she took the cup from him and looked up at him fearfully. "What's in this?" she asked, eyeing the cup suspiciously.

"It's to help you relax. Drink up."

She took the cup to her mouth and sipped from the liquid to her surprise it wasn't as bad as it looked. Sneaking a peek at her kidnapper, she saw him watching her closely. She shut her eyes and drank it all up, wiping her mouth as she placed the cup on the table in front of her.

"There dear. Good girl," he praised, walking towards her.

"Just relax, or I might get pissed. We don't want me getting pissed now, do we?" He asked rhetorically as he squatted in front of her. He pulled her jacket off, and she let him. He proceeded to tug her up, pulling her dress she'd worn especially for him over her head. He unclasped her nude color bra, regretting why he hadn't insisted on her wearing the black lacy bra she had worn the day he fell in love with her. His eyes darkened as they met her bare breast, to his disappointment her nipples weren't hard for him. He then moved to pull her black colored thong down, smiling and appreciating the black color more than the blue one she had on that day.

She closed her eyes waiting for it, she was so used to been the victim. That day in the house across the street was the only time she'd fought. She couldn't stop the fast racing of her heart or the trembling of her body.

"Relax, princess, I'm going to bathe you now."

He led her to his neat bathroom and motioned for her to get in the tub. He bathed her slowly, washing every part of her body as if she was a babe.

Elena wanted to puke, she was disgusted at how the psycho could be so gentle, bathing her like she was his child.

After he'd finished bathing her, he cleaned her up and proceeded to dress her in his oversized shirt. He took her to his queen-sized bed, motioning for her to lie down, and then he tucked her in, kissing her forehead and telling her to sleep, in a whisper. She was his mate, in dark soul and bold heart. So very perfect for him. And soon she'd realized that.

_______________________________

Chapter 5 🔆

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