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She couldn’t see her feet, but she kneasn’t their weight--or her inability to summon herThey were bound beneath the blankets that covered her--the too-char, pink-and-white checkered comforter--one tied to each post at the end of the bed Her shoulders ached, her back too, as her hands were stretched up and to her sides She could see that he’d fashioned strips of torn bedsheets as makeshift ropes to secure her wrists to the canopy bed she lay upon Several strenuous tugs s were sturdy

Still, she kicked and thrashed anyway Not caring that it was pointless Not caring that she was alone and trapped and wearing out her precious reserve of energy

If she could have, she would’ve screa across herit feel like a hoarseand hu of the chain saw outside

The exertion exhausted Violet, and she collapsed, spent, her heart racing out of control as she tried to forget who he wasCaine Tried to forget the things he’d done and the girls he’d killed

And then she reirls--about Caine himself

That he wanted the to allay her fears Trying to calculate and plan

She needed to get out of here She needed to find a way to make him trust her

To make him believe she could love hi the day, she noted It wasn’t until the sun fell that he ventured into her roo silently

She kne that this wasn’t the house Rafe had told her about, the house in the city with a dungeon in its base her so her to use the sun as an indicator of tih the woods She kne to h the thin gingha to afternoon to dusk

Dusk had been easy, though That’s when he came

He carried another tray of dinner, another bowl of phar Violet wanted to do was to eat the soup, though Not that soup Yet her storowled in protest She needed the food, she knew Eventually she’d have to give in; it would do her no good to starve to death Then she’d never be able to escape