Dark Captive

By: Jenika Snow
BY:Jenika Snow & Lily Harlem & Alexa Sinclaire & N. J. Young & Elena Kincaid & Jocelyn Dex


Jenika Snow

Chapter One

The music was loud, the bodies crammed together, but Holly felt free, felt like nothing could touch her. With her life, and the restraints her father put on her, she couldn’t help but just let go, even if it was just for this one moment.

“Let’s get you another drink.”

Holly looked over at her friend, Rachel, and nodded. Yeah, another drink sounded good right about now, especially since her buzz was wearing off. Holly didn’t even want to think about having to go back to the house, not when she knew she’d get the third degree from her father for not being home at the time he set, and because she’d been drinking.

I’m twenty-one years old. I shouldn’t have to be set with such high restrictions.

Of course, she’d never say those words out loud, not when she knew things had been so tough around the house.

Breathing out to clam and center herself, she watched Rachel move through the bodies crammed inside the club, and walk up to the bar. Rachel held up two fingers to the bartender, but Holly turned her back to her and scanned the dance floor. They’d been dancing together, a trick that usually kept the creepers away, but of course, tonight they were in full force as they ground their bodies against them.

“Fresh from the bottle,” Rachel’s voice came from behind, and Holly turned, smiling.

“That was quick.”

Rachel winked and held out a glass filled with something pink.

“What is it?”

“It’s fun in a plastic cup, Holly.”

Good enough answer for me.

With Rachel being the DD, and Holly hardly getting to go out, she took the opportunity to enjoy tonight, and that meant finishing off the evening with a fresh drink. When the cup was empty, they both grinned.

“That’ll put hair on your chest,” Rachel said.

“My father will kill me when he knows I’m getting wasted.” A sympathetic look covered Rachel’s face.

“You need to leave every once in a while. Your mom will understand.”

Holly nodded and looked down at the ground. That’s easier said than done. “My mom needs me, Rachel.” She looked up at her friend and the sympathy on Rachel’s face evident.

“I know, honey. I just hate that you have to live in that house with that asshole while your poor mom is sick.”

Holly nodded. Her father was an asshole, that was true, but her mother was an angel. Her mother was sweet, sincere, and always thought about others before herself. But her mother was sick, and Holly knew it was only a matter of time before the illness claimed her.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Holly said, needing to escape for a second. If she didn’t, she’d start crying, and she didn’t want to ruin the night.

“I’ll go with you.”

They pushed through the throng of people, Rachel holding her hand and leading the way. They came to a stop in front of the hallway that led to the bathrooms. Holly turned her head, and saw a row of tables off to the side, one of them partially obscured by the poor lighting, but nonetheless she still saw the man sitting there, watching her. His focus was on her. He had one thick and muscular arm on the table, appearing relaxed, although he looked ready to move into action if need be. He wore a shirt that was rolled up his arm, with dark ink covering his flesh in a grisly display of dark lines and intricate detail. She could see it all as if she stood right before him, as if she were running her fingers over those tattoos right now. The longer she stood there the more she felt this tightness fill her, the more heat encompassed her. She couldn’t even describe it, couldn’t stop herself from breathing faster, trying to suck air into her lungs.

And then he leaned forward, the act slow, calculated, and his focus still on her. His dark hair was short, his eyes the same color, seeming bleak, emotionless ... frightening.

I know him.

You don’t.

He seems so familiar.

He watched her like he was a predator about to pounce and he’d just found his prey—her—and that had her entire body lighting up.

Fight or flight.

Fear was strong in her and she couldn’t understand why she felt this emotion. It was a little unnerving and creepy the way he watched her, but the fear she felt still sent arousal moving through her.

“Come on,” Rachel said, unaware of the exchange Holly had with this mystery man … this dangerous man.

They went into the bathroom, and Holly found an empty stall. After using the facilities she stood there, the stall door still shut. She tried to catch her breath, the intensity from the man still so strong inside of her. She looked at her arms, the ones currently covered by the sleeves she wore. It wasn’t hot outside, but going to a club usually had people dressing in less clothing because of the heat and sweat. But here Holly was in a long sleeved t-shirt, hot and sweaty, but needing those sleeves to hide what her father did to her.

Pushing the material up her arms, she looked at the black and blue bruising. They were in the shape of her father’s fingers, a result of his drunken outbursts that he seemed to reserve for her on the best of days. But she was glad he put his anger toward her and not her mother anymore. The only solace Holly found was the knowledge that when her mother passed her father wouldn’t be able to cause her pain anymore, that her mom would be in a better place and finally have the peace she deserved.

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