He watched me fighting, doing my best not to break.

He didn’t say a word as I silently slid to the floor and bowed at his feet.

This wasn’t me giving in. This wasn’t me accepting that I wouldn’t keep fighting, keep trying. This was me reaching my limit for tonight. Tomorrow, I would be stronger. Today, I was done.

“I’ll ask you one last time.” I caught his tortured stare. “Leave.”

He inhaled sharply.

I’d kneeled before him this morning and put my mouth on his cock. I’d been submissive and not at all the badass warrior I’d hoped I would be. I’d done those things while doing my best to figure out how to play him. I had reasons for giving in.

But now? Now, I had nothing left.

If he could strip me of such a simple part of life, then he honestly didn’t care about the rest of it. I was just a vessel to fuck until he tired of me.

On the floor of his pristine bathroom, I came to terms with the stark truth. Up till now, I’d dabbled with the idea that I could get him to like me. That the way he watched me meant there was a feeling, breathing male beneath all the coldness. I’d had hopes that by giving him my body, he might give me something greater in return.

He had that capacity inside him.

I’ve seen it.

But that all shattered now.

I didn’t even cry. Not really.

I just...shut down.

I tuned it all out and slouched on the cool tile, ignoring every ache and discomfort in my body.

I didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, his feet scuffed on the marble as he pushed off from the doorframe. He came toward me, tipping my chin up with his finger. He looked deep into my eyes and studied me.

I didn’t look back.

I blinked without seeing.

I deleted him from my existence.

I honestly didn’t care what he’d do.

But then...he was gone.

His finger left a slight burn where he’d touched me, his body leaving a small cloud of his sunshine and shadow scent.

It took a stupidly long time to understand that he’d not only left the bathroom but the bedroom too. He’d left me. Alone. Just like I’d asked.

And that was when I truly cried.

The sob couldn’t be contained, and I crawled to the door on my hands and knees. I slammed it shut as tears gushed down my cheeks. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled to the toilet.

Ripping off my leggings, I cried even harder as I sat on the cool porcelain and let go.

The relief was instant.

The gratefulness for his disappearance immense.

My body purged, and once it was over, I shook with hunger, fear, and tiredness.

I’d never been so twisted and knotted. I’d never been denied cleanliness or safety. Now that I’d been granted a few moments alone with a shower nearby and my stomach no longer in agony, I couldn’t ignore the pull.

I should launch myself out the window and run.

I should throw caution to the wind and get as far away from here as I could.

But...I’d always been a savvy climber. I was the smart one with the right equipment, enough rations, gear, and technology to prevent a tragedy like the one I’d stupidly fallen into.

And if I ran now, I wouldn’t last long.

I barely had any food in my system. I had no water. It was dark, which meant I couldn’t see where I had to go. I could end up breaking a leg or falling off the cliff as I attempted to escape.

And besides, I’d made a promise.

I’d said I’d stay if he left me alone. If I failed and he brought me back, I would never get another chance to cultivate his trust. To plot a better escape. One where I would succeed.

Tomorrow.

Survive tonight.

Run tomorrow.

With a racing heart, I tore at my dirty clothing.

I kicked off my hiking boots along with my leggings and underwear. Unzipping my windbreaker, I ripped off my hoodie, t-shirt, and exercise bra and threw them all into the corner.

Naked and highly aware I still had streaks of his dried cum on my chest—even after washing the best I could in the dungeon—I darted into the shower and turned on the tap.

Icy water hit me.

It felt sublime.

I didn’t mind it was cold or that my shaking increased until my teeth chattered and kneecaps bounced. I’d never enjoyed a shower as much as this. Never felt so baptized from dirt or refreshed by liquid.

Water sluiced over my face as I tipped my head under and gasped at the chill. My hair plastered down my back. With eyes blinking back droplets, I grabbed the gold-wrapped soap and tore it open, running the flowery scented suds from the top of my head right to my toes.

Heaven.

Hell.

Everything in between.

Only once bubbles covered me did I step back under the cold spray and rinse. My skin burned from the cold, and the contrast between the muggy air and the snowy water was almost an aphrodisiac. My senses were on high alert and strung out. My jumpiness at an all time high.

Thanks to hypersensitivity, I knew he’d returned. I knew before the door even opened. Instincts did their best to protect me, sending my heart hiccupping before catapulting into an all-out sprint.

The bathroom door opened.

He strode in.

Our eyes locked from across the room. Droplets continued to rain over my face, and his naked chest glittered with the numerous scars that painted a story of his pain.

His gaze dragged from my eyes to my bare breasts, exposed stomach, naked core, and every inch in-between.

He didn’t slouch against the doorframe this time.

He stood stiff and solemn.

He didn’t reach for his straining erection or attempt to provide any relief to the stark arousal on his features. His hands balled into fists by his thighs as he continued to drink me in. His tongue wetted his bottom lip as he became transfixed by my ass as I turned my back on him and shot him a glower over my shoulder.

He acted as if he’d never seen a naked woman before, but beneath that eager innocence, something far too dark to understand existed. Flashes of it appeared and disappeared in his eyes. Something cruel and sadistic. Something that hinted he wasn’t innocent at all and had done things I could never imagine.

More time passed between us as he watched me finish my shower.

He didn’t rush me or bark orders for me to come to him.

It was almost civil in the way he stood like a gentleman, granting me his every thought and desire through the heat in his blackened gaze.

Beneath the chilly water, my core clenched despite myself. It reacted to his severity, his strength, his savagery. He was a man who would never survive in society because of whatever had happened to him out here.

What did happen to him?

Was I once again making things up? Was I romanticizing a situation that had nothing romantic about it? Whatever tales I came up with about his background, they were all wrong. The most logical explanation was, he was a wanted convict who’d been hiding from the law for whatever crime he’d committed. Judging by how easily he’d strangled me and continually threatened to take my life, he was probably wanted for murder.

Whatever heat had threaded through my core dissipated, leaving me shivering even harder beneath the spray.

Almost as if he knew I’d reached my limit, he stalked in bare feet to the rack and plucked off a fluffy cream towel. Silently, he came closer to the shower and spread it wide, ready to wrap around me.

A white flag perhaps?

A sign of truce between us?

Never looking away from him, I turned off the shower and gingerly stepped across the wet tiles. I paused before him. More naked than I’d ever been before someone. His eyes once again fell to my breasts and lingered on my pebbled nipples.

I was confident in my body. I’d trained it to keep me safe while climbing and to stay healthy in all my risky endeavors. I was toned. I was strong. Past lovers had appreciated my hard work and commented on muscles they didn’t even have.