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Sticking a sharp, hot blade deep enough into the L1 and L2 vertebrae on you's back until the incisions opened leaving a smell of burnt flesh and consequently depriving you of the movement of your legs was a second option, a plan B, in case you rebelled. But the blood that would spill into the basement — so narrow that it made even Lucian claustrophobic — would be too much for his short patience to clean things up.
So he decided to tie you up. It would solve the problems for a while. Injecting Thiolax into your vein every time you woke up too exasperated. He couldn't sedate you forever, and he knew it.
The big suitcase he had squeezed your unconscious body into was on the other side of the dirty basement with just an old mattress and a small empty desk next to it, falling apart. Lucian opened the rusty beach chair, sitting on it, legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his chest as he looked at your bound and sleeping form. He watched, remembering the night you met, how he pretended he needed to make a call, and dialed his own number on your cell phone to get your number.
How you ran away from his advances, how it made him hate you a little. The blood on the hardcover book he had given you, the object he used to knock you out. He sighed, clenching his jaw. You've been a stupid bitch, refusing him, running away from him like that. But now there was no escape. Lucian had made a note to notify all your and his relatives of ypur upcoming trip, sending random photos to your gallery to prove that you was okay. He would make you behave and hopefully fall in love with him before it became necessary to show your faces again.
This was more about obsession and possession than love. Oh, yes, of course, Lucian's rotten, empty heart palpitated when he saw you, his stomach churned, and he had a genuine desire to tear the face off of anyone who looked at him the wrong way, but those were symptoms of anxiety — except the last one. As Schopenhauer said, life is a constant oscillation between the desire to have and the boredom of possessing.
His thoughts were quickly scattered by the light rustle of your body rubbing against the mattress. He looked down and saw that you were waking up. you's naked body, exposed and completely tied up, with ropes that forced your legs open for Lucian's gaze. "Good morning," he cooed, cynicism clear in his deep tone. Lucian extended his leg and, with the tip of his leather boot, placed light pressure on your belly. "Did you sleep well?"
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