Tall, Dark & Furious (Pyte/Sentinel 6) - Page 11

It wasn’t.

“Toilet?” he said, throwing her a questioning look before shifting his attention back to the item in question.

“Yes, I need to use it,” Samantha said, shifting uncomfortably as she waited for him to finish his inspection.

Frowning, he shifted another look towards her as his red eyes slowly shifted back to that emerald color that she was taking as a sign that she was no longer in danger of being torn apart.

At least, not at the moment.

Realizing that she was seconds away from making this terrifying experience even more memorable, Samantha slowly moved closer, trying not to startle him as she licked her lips, searching for the right words to explain the problem, but thankfully he seemed to understand the problem given that she was now doing the damn ?

?pee-pee” dance.

With a nod of understanding, he gestured for her to go ahead as he stepped back and…waited.

“Any chance that I can get a little privacy?” she asked, not really sure that she could do this.

When he shook his head once, she decided that she’d hold it. That decision was quickly overturned when he shifted his attention to the broken sink and started playing with the faucet, turning it on in the process. As he leaned down so that he could watch with utter fascination as water poured out of the faucet, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the sound of water pouring down the drain.

For the first thirty seconds, she was able to block it out, but then he started to play with the faucets again, changing the flow down to a trickle, effectively breaking her. In seconds, she was across the room, shoving her oversized pajama pants down along with her granny panties, sat down, hunched over, and tried not to think about the man currently enthralled with the soap dispenser as she relieved her bladder.

Once she was done, she quickly wiped herself, careful not to give him a show, not that he would have noticed since his attention was now fixed on her nail clippers. It took a few more minutes before she managed to pull her pants up. Once she was done, she stood up, flushed the toilet, and-

Tripped over her own feet in a desperate attempt to get out of his way as the sounds of the toilet flushing drew his interest. Wondering if this was the best time to slip out the door and try getting her cellphone to call for help, she started edging her way to the door only to forget how to breathe and, apparently, how to keep her mouth shut.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered in horrified fascination, not sure what terrified her more, the fact that his urine was red or that his penis was the size of a-

“Wife,” he snarled in warning, but she didn’t miss the stunned expression on his face when he’d pulled himself out.

Forcing her mind away from all the things that she really didn’t want to think about at the moment, she quickly washed her hands, aware that he was watching her every move. Once she was done, she grabbed the scissors and trimmers out of the bag she kept under the sink. Taking a deep breath, she gestured for him to sit on the small wooden chair her grandmother had kept by the bathtub. He threw her an assessing gaze before he grabbed the chair and moved it to the middle of the bathroom and sat down. She placed the scissors down and plugged in the trimmers well aware that his curious eyes followed her every move.

Willing her hands not to shake, she grabbed the scissors and moved closer. “Be careful with those things, wife,” he said softly, but she didn’t miss the warning.

Her hands shook harder and she had to pull them back before she did something stupid like cut him and enrage the monster. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he would kill her. She hadn’t missed the way he’d said “wife” like it disgusted him. He was using her, but she wasn’t sure why yet.

Wanting nothing more than to get this over with so that she could make her escape, she tentatively picked up one of the grubby long locks of hair and tried not to cringe as she cut it. It occurred to her then that she hadn’t asked him how long he wanted it. Her only hope was that he liked it really short on the sides and a bit longer on top. It’s how Nathan liked his hair, and admittedly, it was the only way she knew how to cut hair.

For the next hour and a half, Samantha worked slowly as she did her best to detangle some of the mess by hand so that she could cut it without making a bigger mess. When it was time for the trimmers, she was very careful since the sound of the trimmers buzzing seemed to startle him. He didn’t say anything, but she noted the anxious looks he kept sending her. The few times she had to put them down, he’d picked them up and studied them like everything else he’d come across. When he accidentally turned the shears on, he dropped it like was going to bite him and tensed up when she reached for it.

Pretty soon, it became obvious that she wouldn’t be able to shave his face or finish cutting his hair until after his shower, not that she planned on being around for that, but he didn’t need to know that. Doing her best not to appear anxious, Samantha put the trimmers down and turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature to what she thought he’d like and what she hoped would help cut through the grime in his hair.

“I can’t do anything else until after you’ve cleaned up,” Samantha said, gesturing towards the shower and praying that he’d missed that hopeful glace she’d shot the closed bathroom door.

He slowly stood up and peered into the shower. After a minute of running his eyes over everything inside, he grabbed hold of the threadbare shirt that he wore and yanked it over his head. Her brows shot up when she heard the fabric rip with the movement. She ran her eyes over his torso and noted a few strips of tan skin peeking through, but the rest was a dark gray. When he dropped what was left of his pants, she forced her eyes to the wall.

“Well, I’ll just leave you to it then,” she said, moving towards the door as she tried to figure out what the best course of action for escaping was.

Through her window?

The door?

Or maybe she should go call the police and wait to be rescued?

His words stopped her before she made it to the door. “Take your clothes off, Wife.”

Chapter 5

“I…” she trailed off as she wrung her hands together and looked around the large room as though she was looking for answers that wouldn’t save her.

Tags: R.L. Mathewson Pyte/Sentinel Fantasy
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