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CHAPTER 18
Oliver
Heather keeps her hand at my waist as we descend the stairs, fingers hooked just inside the waistband of the trousers she chose.
She leads me to a small room. At first, I think she has brought me into a child’s room.
Stuffed animals occupy the shelves. Coloring books and plastic bins line one wall. Hula hoops lean behind the door. An enormous dollhouse dominates the room as though everything else was arranged around it.
Nothing here belongs to a child.
Then I see the other captive waiting beside the low table.
He sits near the edge of the enormous beanbag with one leg bent and the other stretched in front of him, positioned carefully enough that I doubt the arrangement was his idea. He’s beautiful in a way that immediately explains the clothes, the makeup and the care Heather has taken arranging him.
Long black hair falls over one shoulder. His eyes are pale gray-green beneath dark makeup, and a choker fits closely around his throat. Heather has dressed him in black and green, soft fabrics that make his narrow frame look deliberately composed. A bracelet circles one wrist.
He’s smiling. His mouth is, anyway. His eyes are deciding whether I’m a threat.
I stop just inside the room.
His inspection is less discreet than mine. Then his attention settles on her hand at my waist. It stays there.
Her hand leaves my back. “Jamie,” she says.
His smile becomes fractionally easier, although whether that’s because she has spoken to him or because she has finally stopped touching me, I can’t tell.
Heather comes around beside me. “Jamie, this is Oliver.”
“Nathaniel.”
Heather removes a wooden ruler from her pocket.
The change in Jamie is immediate. His shoulders pull tight. His gaze drops to my hands.
“Right hand,” Heather says.
“No.”
“Jamie.”
He looks at her.
“Tell Oliver what happens when one of my dolls says no.”
Jamie’s eyes meet mine. For a moment, he says nothing. Then he turns his marked palm upward. “She teaches you not to.”
Heather holds out her hand. I give her mine. She strikes my palm twice.
“One for correcting me. One for saying no.”
Heat spreads across my skin.
Heather releases me. “Sit down, Oliver.”
Jamie watches my hand instead of my face.
“Oliver, this is Jamie.”
