Dark Intentions

|11. Damsel in distress|

                                                                                    *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.