Chapter 4 Heart of a beast

"What do you think you're doing?"

His deep voice brought me back to reality, the fleeting taste of freedom now replaced by the harsh reality of being apprehended. He walked up to me with a smirk on his face.

"I left you for a night, and this is how you end up, baby girl?" Now the spectators will believe I'm a whore! Can this get any worse?

My face turned red instantly. I didn't let go of the rope; instead, I held on tighter, making his smirk disappear into a frown. Why is this man so good-looking? He looked over at a man behind him, whispering something I couldn't hear, and the man walked away. Then, he turned back to me, waiting for a movement.

"I am not coming down until you let me leave here, you asshole!"

He licked his lips, walked toward me, and yanked my legs, causing me to fall-but he caught me right in time. I struggled, cursing at him, scratching his face just to make him let me go, but he didn't flinch. The fact that everyone kept their heads low while he walked past them gave me a brainstorm.

He carried me up the stairs with a stern look on his face. He didn't glance at me or acknowledge the string of insults I threw his way. I also cursed at the maids giving me ugly stares as he carried me bridal style to a place I didn't recognize.

We reached a door, and he kicked it open with his leg, stepping inside a dark room and closing the door behind him. He dropped me carelessly, not caring if I fell. The room was so dark that I couldn't see a thing.

What is this place?

Memories from the slave market flooded in, making the hairs on my body stand on end. Is he going to beat me with a cane? The memories of how the guards punished us at the slave market flooded my mind.

"No, I don't do kid's stuff, Ava."

I jumped at the sound of his voice. Did I say that out loud?

The lights turned on, and I took a full view of the room. Faded wallpaper, once adorned with intricate patterns, now peeled at the edges, revealing the muted colors of yesteryear. The room echoed with emptiness, emphasizing the solitude within its worn-out walls. The wooden floor creaked underfoot, protesting the weight of countless footsteps that had trodden upon it over the years. The air in the room hung heavy with the scent of age-a mixture of dust and loneliness.

A small bed occupied the middle, bare-no pillow, no bedsheet. A naked bed. A soft light from the sun filtered through the barred window.

What is this?

I turned to him with the most annoyed expression I could muster.

"What's your name, and why are you keeping me here? How do you know me?" I demanded, trying to gather some semblance of understanding from the mysterious man who had thrown my life into chaos.

His gaze lingered on me before he casually sat on a chair, folding his arms over his broad chest. I attempted not to let my eyes betray my involuntary admiration for his well-built physique.

"Naughty Ava!" he grinned, a sly expression crossing his face. "Two days in, and you're trying to escape again?"

He observed me with amusement, as if my attempts were nothing more than an entertaining game. This man seemed deranged-casually picking up girls and locking them away without any explanation.

"Explain yourself," I demanded, frustration seeping into my voice.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his voice carrying a certain casual indifference.

"You are fucking insane. You get me in here for nothing? You're the one that's meant to explain!" I shouted, my patience wearing thin. I couldn't fathom his motives, and the uncertainty only fueled my anger. Starvation added to my irritability.

His response was a smug grin. I felt the urge to punch him in the balls, but reason prevailed-he was six times my size.

The tension escalated. I couldn't bear to look at him without feeling a surge of anger. If he brought me here to be one of his slaves, he should just say it and stop playing mind games. He could visit a doctor for his apparent madness; "mad" felt like an understatement. He could go on and pleasure himself for all I cared.

He rose from the chair, advancing toward me. Instinctively, I took steps back, maintaining distance until my back hit the wall behind me. He approached in a disconcertingly eerie manner, his fist thudding against the wall above my head before he leaned in, trapping me against the cold surface.

"Watch your mouth, little girl," he whispered into my face, his scent enveloping me.

It was an olfactory symphony-an intoxicating blend that transcended the mundane. Hints of a rich, woody cologne embraced the air, carrying undertones of cedar and sandalwood. The fragrance was warm and inviting, leaving an indelible impression on the air and my senses. Despite my anger, his presence had an undeniable allure.

"I just want to know your name and who you are," I murmured, finding myself momentarily captivated by his eyes and scent.

I needed to refocus on my anger, my purpose-to understand why he kept me here, the mysterious healing of my infected leg, and my purpose in this place. But every time he came close, an inexplicable attraction stirred within me.

He traced my cheek with his finger and held my neck, choking me lightly.

My internal struggle intensified-I refused to fall for someone who kidnapped me without reason. The slave market, awful as it was, at least had a known purpose.

He slammed his hands on the wall, demanding that I speak my thoughts.

"Look, say it to my face, Ava," he growled, his anger palpable.

Fear surged, and I hesitated, but then I defiantly glared at him.

"Fuck you!" I declared, challenging him.

His reaction was swift-his hands tightened around my throat, and for a moment, his eyes turned black. Was it reality or a dream?

"If you want to kill me, go ahead," I dared him, my glare unwavering.

His eyes shifted back to hazel, and he smiled, defying the madness he had exhibited moments ago.

"Stop looking at me like that," he murmured, as if our encounter had shifted to a casual conversation. "And stop trying to have an attitude with me. I hate disrespect."

Confusion overwhelmed me. What did he expect after kidnapping me?

His thumb trailed over my mouth, pushing my lips softly. He licked his lower lip, clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his gaze roamed over my body with hunger.

Tension thickened, and he leaned toward my lips-only to whisper his name.

"Lucian."

Then, he left the room.

I sat on the ground, bewildered by the complexity of this man.

Lucian-a fitting name for someone with an enigmatic aura. His allure was undeniable, but I vowed to avoid him, despite the dangerously tempting sensations that had almost led to a kiss.