Enslaved by the Ocean
Page 7

I manage to gather my footing before I fall. I get a chance to peer around. This must be his room. It’s large with dark wooden walls, a toilet and shower off to the side, a large bed in the middle and a desk near a set of windows at the back. Hendrix shoves me again, so I continue to walk forward until I reach a small sofa. He grips my shoulder, forcing me down onto it. I don’t fight him. My mind is screaming at me to just go along with it. He might not kill me if I do as I’m told. I think about Eric, and my heart clenches. Is he okay? Are they hurting him right now? I can’t not ask. I can’t just forget about my friend.
“Are they hurting him?” I croak.
Hendrix is standing in front of me, and at my words he kneels. He grips my wrists and holds them tightly in his hands, making it impossible for me to move. Our eyes meet, brown on green, and I flinch. There’s so much behind those eyes, so much pain, so much anger, so much death…
“What is goin’ on with him ain’t your concern. What is your concern is surviving. You do as I ask, you live. You don’t, you die. It’s simple.”
Simple. Simple. Of course, it’s so freaking simple. I put my head down, swallowing over and over to stop the bile rising in my throat.
“How old are you, girl?”
“My name is Indigo,” I snap, lifting my head to meet his glare.
“Don’t fuckin’ care what your name is, it don’t matter to me. I asked how old you are.”
“What does it matter?” I whisper. “If you’re going to rape me, I don’t imagine you’ll care.”
He snorts. “No, I suppose I won’t. Answer me anyway.”
My body goes stiff.
“Now,” he growls.
“I’m twenty-four.”
He narrows his eyes, and nods his head. “You fucked many men?”
Oh. My. God.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
He lifts his hand, and he slaps me so hard I see stars. My body stiffens, and just like that I crumble. My moment of strength crawls back to my inner depths, and stays there.
“Answer my fuckin’ question, or I’ll chain you up in the cell with the rats.”
“No,” I croak.
“No you haven’t fucked a lot, or no you won’t answer my question?”
“No I haven’t fucked a lot.”
“Good.”
Good? I raise my head, meeting his gaze with a powerful glare.
“Who are you?” I rasp.
“Someone you don’t want to fuck with.”
“W…w…w…what do you want with me?” I say in a small voice.
He grins, and it’s not nice. His eyes are so full of threat. I shudder, but when he speaks, my entire world stops.
“I want to sell you.”
Oh.
God.
He wants to sell me. I can’t even breathe through that. My entire body is tingling, and my head spins. He wants to sell me? Like…a sex slave? Or on the black market? I lift my head, and my eyes burn as I stare into his black ones. “You want to sell me?” I gasp.
“I don’t want to sell you,” he growls, turning his gaze away from mine and standing. He walks over to his desk and picks up a cigarette, lighting it. “I am selling you.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because I owe someone, and you’re the perfect payment. He likes girls like you.”
Girls like me. Oh God. I don’t want to know what that means.
“P…p…please, just let me go. I’ll leave…”
He snorts. “No can do. I really do need to settle that debt. Don’t worry, he’s only mean when you piss him off.”
“I won’t let you do this,” I yell, my body shaking.
He storms over, grips my shoulder and hurls me up to my feet. I scream in pain as his fingers dig into my skin. “You have no choice. You will learn I am not the sort of man you want to play with. I will crush you. Now, turn around.”
“What?” I whisper.
He spins me around. “Don’t argue, just do.”
He begins patting my sides. He’s looking for weapons. He’s going to find my phone. My only chance of escape. When his fingers go over my pockets, he shoves his hand in and pulls out my cellphone. “You ain’t keepin’ this.”
He drops it on the ground and stomps on it until it shatters.
He shatters my hopes along with it.
“Please, just let me go.”
He spins and glares at me, before turning and walking over to the door. He opens it, sticks his head out and bellows, “Drake!”
A moment later, a tall, blond pirate with a jagged scar running from his temple to his mouth down the left side of his face, walks in. He doesn’t look at me; he simply stands at the door waiting for orders. He’s huge, with broad shoulders and muscle beyond that of a normal man. Hendrix shoves me toward him, and I smother the terrified scream escaping my throat.
“Put her in the cells. Let’s show her what kind of people she’s playing with.”
“Please,” I beg.
“I suggest you learn to close your mouth unless you’re being spoken to,” Hendrix snarls. “I will put you in your place, girl. Don’t doubt it. Your begging, it means nothing to me.”
My lip trembles, and I drop my head.
“Now, put your arms behind your back.”
I snap my head up. “What? No.”
Hendrix growls, spinning and stalking over to his desk. He pulls out a set of handcuffs, and with a determined glare he walks over, grasping my shoulder and spinning me around.