"Why are they doing this?" she asked. "Ransom?"
"I don't know." They must have bathed her, too, because her hair hung in damp strands that he pushed away from her beautiful face. "Now that I know you're okay, I don't even care. You are okay?"
She nodded, but her eyes were still full of fear. "They tied me up. With leather straps. Tied to a tabletop. And they said they were going to leave me. That I was going to starve. And then they left and I was so hungry." She closed her eyes. "I don't know how long they were gone before they came back with water and some crackers. Dallas, why?"
Rage burned through him, and he wanted to kill their captors. The sadistic fucks who had done that to her.
But he forced it back. He needed to comfort. Needed to make it better for her. "It's okay now," he said. "You're with me now. And I told you I'd always protect you, remember?"
He looked into her eyes and saw some of her terror fade, and he felt a surge of power inside him, knowing that he'd given her comfort.
He heard her breath hitch. "Dallas." His name was a whisper. Nothing more. But he knew what she wanted, and he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers in the softest of kisses, the most gentle of touches. And in the hell of where they were, that single touch was good.
"I'm so scared," she confessed.
"Me, too."
They held each other for hours, drifting in and out of sleep. There was a gallon of water in the corner and a single can of cat food beside it. On the far side of the room, the captors had left a bucket and a roll of toilet paper, along with a jug of cloudy water that the Woman had said was for washing only. Drink it, and they'd regret it.
It was hardly civilization, but Dallas had been grateful.
They'd waited until they were desperate to eat the cat food. They measured time by the diminishing water.
"Are they going to let us starve?" she asked when there was no food and only a little water.
I don't know. It was the only true answer, but he couldn't say it. Couldn't even think it.
"I don't want to die."
"Jane, no." The thought of losing her ripped him up, but he was scared when he looked at her. He didn't know for sure, but he thought that it had been about a week since they'd been taken. She'd lost weight in her face and in the dim light, her cheekbones seemed more prominent. Her huge eyes seemed hollow. She was beautiful--she would always be beautiful--but she was turning into a waif before his eyes.
God only knew what he looked like. Sickly and scrawny, most likely. Their captors were ma
king them weak. Making sure they couldn't fight.
Assuming anyone ever came back into their room.
The thought sent a shock of terror cutting through him.
"We're not going to die," he said, the words worthless and stupid and they both knew that. Hadn't they explored every inch of their cell? Didn't they know damn well there was nowhere to go?
"Maybe it would be like sleeping," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I think I could stand it, except I don't want to be away from you."
"Don't talk like that." His words were fierce because she was echoing his own thoughts, and he didn't want to think that she'd lost hope, too.
"I just--"
He crushed his mouth over hers to shut her up, and for a moment she was quiet in his arms. Then her arms went around him and she pulled him down, pulled him hard against her onto the disgusting, lumpy mattress.
"I love you," he said when they broke apart, both gasping hard. "I don't want to lose you, either."
"I know," she said. "I love you, too. You know that, right? You've always known it."
"Always," he said, and for the first time since the night he'd snuck out to meet her, he felt alive again.
He felt hope.
He shifted so that he was leaning over her, and she was on her back. He looked into her deep brown eyes and felt like he was falling. He was hard, but instead of getting off her--instead of trying to hide it--he just said, "Jane."