Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed]

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Printable Version

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Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-17-2014

Connor strode into the basement room, his loafers shuffling against the narrow strip of carpet that lined the middle of the hallway. Down here, his father kept all manner of perversions on tap for his loyal soldiers, often turned all the more vile by their own inventiveness, as the head of the family didn't bother to oversee--merely arrange to provide fresh bodies. Here, playtime turned the stomachs of the Kristis who yet had sense. Connor himself enjoyed taming a lovely pet, but torture was meant to be exquisite, not bloody. And it sure as hell wasn't painful, when the ones inflicting the pain drew the only pleasure, broken victims left in gutters for carrion-feeders to finish the job.

A chill, involuntary shudder went down his spine as he caught sight of the day shift brothers. The two guards outside--Leven and Donny Ciraco--smirked at him as if he were an equal, when Connor was royalty. A sure sign that someone had acted without waiting for his father's orders. He squinted through the barred window in the door, barely enough light trickling in to shed a hint at the figure bound to a chair within.

He cursed under his breath as they opened the door, comfortable in their untouchable status. Their time, too, would come. How much harm had these bastards already done? He'd been so sure...but they must have heard of his demands, acted before he'd managed to wrap up his responsibilities for the day and retrieve her. A key dangling from one finger, slippers wrapped inside a warm blanket under the other arm, Connor shoved past them to make short work of the heavy, metal bonds.

He leaned close to her back to inspect the fastenings, more with slim fingers than his eyes, and hissed under his breath at a faint scent of blood. Murderous inclinations dripped in the back of his mind. "What have they done to you?" He left her wrists shackled, but unwound the chains from the back and legs of the chair, removed the bindings from her legs with care. "Shh, sweetling," he soothed as he felt for a gag, pressing his cheek to hers. "They won't hurt you again."

He gently slipped the fabric from her lips and moved away in case she had a mind to scream...or any fight left in her at all. His fist clenched around the cotton fabric, needing to do more than walk away from here with his charge. Names, he thought with a grim smile. Names of dead men. His uncle's men would be keen to visit Lev and Donny, could concoct a more valid excuse than the mistreatment of women, one incontestable and unpardonable by his father, perhaps even convincing enough to have him pull the order himself...

Connor knelt to grasp her feet and worry them into the small, lambswool slippers, then stood to finally remove all but one chain. In case she had a mind to run.

"Can you walk? I can carry you," a whisper of fingers along her spine, "I'd rather not put pressure on your back until I see what's happened."

He draped a blanket over her shoulders so that whatever she decided, when they met the soft light of the hallway, the only one who'd get a good look at her from here out would be him.

Note: 71db6f

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 11-17-2014

The devil was in the details.

It wasn't a matter of how long she had been there. Piper couldn't recall that much of the story - couldn't remember when groggy hues opened through a sheen of neglect, struggling to blink away the crust of sleep without the aid of her hands. She couldn't remember where she had been headed before she found herself in the belly of this great criminal beast, nor could she remember what sort of faces her captors had - just that there were marks for each set of their hands. Her bruising blossomed like finger paint petals, trickling low and dark in descent from the expanse of her neck and upper arms, trailing to her half swollen rib cage and manhandled hip bones. A petite thing when standing, she couldn't remember every grim detail of her fate in confinement, but she could remember the parts that mattered; the traumas she was meant to be burdened with. In that regard, there wasn't any means to forget while strapped to that chair, and though the hours clicked along and the chance of rescue slimmed immeasurably in her mind, Piper was less than cognizant to what was going on. Time lost meaning in the darkness.

By the time Connor showed up, her wilted frame was little more than a grotesque ornament on display.

His scent was something delectable in such contrast to the mostly lightless chamber. When his warmth approached, she knew to recoil, even if she was barely lucid. Hers was a fear learned through action, through trial and error, so the way Piped shied as physically far from Connor as she could in her chains suggested there had, at one point, been reason for alarm. His rhetorical question would be met with physical aversion. Piper silently braced for blows that didn't come. Instead, the release of bindings followed with heavy clunking of metal to the ground, removing stress from joints and ensuring blood flow would be able continue circulating, but the frail woman didn't seem as appreciative as may have been expected. Drugs coursed through her system, inducing a sort of sluggish response time that meant even if she had meant to run, it would be a sad display of wobbling knees and teetering, unsteady wall hugging. The thought hadn't really crossed her mind.

Realistically, Piper had resigned herself to die in this room, strapped to this chair.

At least she had been previously while stewing in her own filthy, blood basted appearance. Currently, with someone unshackling the restraints little by little, there was a flash of curiosity intermingled with whatever fear refused to wane. Maybe Piper would die in another equally revolting part of the house, rather than this chamber she had become so accustomed to in whatever period of time she was a captive. Maybe they intended to make her death a quick one. That brought something of a macabre smile to her bloodstained mouth, though it remained hidden behind the veil of matted auburn curls and cotton mouth gag. The one with her now was a different sort, gentler, taking steps to free her at an agonizingly slow rate. Not that she minded, playing the scenario in her head out as some kind of fucked up Christmas morning, with Piper wrapped tight and secure for his pleasure. A gift. A token.

Something to play with until he was tired of her.

Her head lolled lazily before she managed to shake it at his question. No. She couldn't walk, and the static running from her pale toes to her battered thighs promised this. So long off her feet, the prisoner was lucky they even still worked if they still worked. This would have to be tested at another point, and by all her hopes and wishes, Piper wanted to walk again. Languidly, a slender set of arms rose to assist him with whatever the stranger's plans happened to be, but she wasn't in a state to make her grand escape. Toes vanished into the slippers while a welcome blanket encased her frame, which remained in need of care. Even if she didn't appear to be, Piper was desperate to be rid of the sights this hell hole had seared in her psyche. Only then did she look at her savior, emerald orbs studying a set of eyes that were similar, but less hollow. This was a sort of existence middled between life and death, and what had once shown brightly behind the sharp greens had been replaced by a miserable impersonation of it's former self. Maybe in time, she would come to miss who she once was.

"Thank you..." Even if her throat had been painfully raw from screaming, Piper managed that much as a barely audible chime. In another life, her vocals were an affectionate sort any man would enjoy listening to. Now they just tugged at the heartstrings like a skilled set of hands against cords on a harp, plucking uncomfortably for both Piper and Connor to hear. Was that really her voice? A better question - Was this really her life?

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-17-2014

Connor cursed under his breath as she shied from him with not the desperate sort of energy he'd expect, but a fragile one, as though her grip on consciousness itself were tenuous. Light from the doorway fell on her thoroughly battered form, highlighted what might have been a tumble of red hair, a sunken, lost gaze of green.

Someone had lied.

This was no "just arrived" flesh for the pit. This young woman had been harmed far before he'd claimed her. She'd never leave this room under her own power and it mattered little if he carried her thin body just now; no matter where he moved to assist her, he'd do harm.

Un-fucking-excusable.

Rage tore at his senses but he managed to remain civil, gentle when he wanted to brutalize the useless fuckers outside the door who even now laughed. Connor slid an arm behind her. Thoughts of tempering a lovely pet's new beginning with a gentle lesson for the eve had already begun to wane when he'd spotted the guards--and now, they'd fled entirely. "I'm going to carry you now. I don't wish to harm you," he warned, that it would anyway left implied. Connor would be as careful as he could with injuries he didn't yet know the full extent of--wouldn't, until he'd bared her whole and sundry to his gaze. Which she would hate him for, regardless of the lack of fight he faced. One arm lifted under her knees, the other her lower back, until she was cradled in his arms, her head lolled against a strong, muscled chest he hid under a layer of expensive cashmere. "We'll have to go outside, so if you can manage it, try to hold on to the blanket."

If she couldn't, he'd merely nudge it around her until it was secured against the wind.

He'd seen victims of his father's games before. The gutter-trash, the broken ones, the fawning, sickening slaves to his whim. That this one might have ended like that...blood colored his vision and his hands tightened on her upon approach to the cell door. He sucked in a harsh breath. Calm thoughts. I can hit the gym later and bang this shit out. After I know every hand that's touched her has been sawed off.

"My apologies," Connor paused his rolling steps, nudged her forehead with his chin. "I am angry. Not with you."

"Easy," he warned again, to both himself and to her as they resumed movement and passed the marked men. When Connor reached the foot of the stairs, he whispered, "We're going home, sweetling."

They passed through the vast kitchens of the head-of-house's estate, an endless, slow walk during which Connor stewed over tangles of auburn hair he couldn't yet undo. He caught glimpses of her face now, a pixine shape that would have revved him up in an entirely different manner had it not been battered, cracked and peeling blood along her lips, dark bruises slipping down to her collarbone where the blanket lay furled around her. Fuck all knew what lay beyond.

Carefully, he maneuvered into the waiting towncar, laying her across his lap and not bothering with seatbelts. Wordless, this trip, his driver pulling to the front of his building, a collection of interconnected, high-security condos on a street that bustled in the daytime but lay still and quiet as the girl in his arms with nightfall. Connor's personal security was waiting up, knew to expect him with a woman, but their faces were tight with disapproval that he let his eyes return. One or two guards sent him clipped nods, as though they, too, would be heading to the gym, or down to the workout space he kept to get the sight of her out of their heads. Each and every man and woman in his employ knew better than to assume he'd done this. Connor's lovers were happy, perky yoga dolls and sturdy muscle-builders from his day job, the pets he'd taken under his wing--until they were ready to fly--over recent years never broken and reshaped.

He took the stairs two at a time to a floor near the top, the door already held open by an eager maid. "Thank you, Josie."

"Aye, Connor-sir. Will you be needing a meal?"

"I'll ring."

"Aye, Connor-sir. I'll lock up for you." The dark-haired buxom bobbed her head at him and waited until he'd crossed the threshold.

The door closed behind them, locked, and for a moment, Connor didn't know what to do.

He carried her to the bed, a cinnamon and white draped masterpiece that he'd had prepared as soon as he'd known he'd be retrieving a woman from under his father's own nose. But it didn't fit. Not this woman, and certainly not the moment. "Should've gone with the blue. Or the green." Making an inward promise that he'd fix it, fix everything, he laid her across the decadent comforter and settled her among the pillows, ignoring for now the rings lined across the headboard, the silk scarves and delicate, golden ropes that wound around the edges of a canopy of gauze. The blanket, he left her with, choosing a coverlet from the foot of the bed to pass over her.

"I can draw you a bath," he offered softly, not knowing if she'd want food, rest, or simply to be clean first. He brushed dingy locks from her forehead, sighing before stepping away from the bedside.

"Uncle," he said when the cell picked up. "You know that blood favor you've been waiting for me to collect?"

Waiting a beat and despite not being seen on the other end of the call, Connor nodded, blond curls jostling every which way atop his head. "I understand. It matters little, because you will not allow this to await judgment. Tonight, Uncle. Immediately. And...forgive me for overreaching. But there are two."

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 11-19-2014

Sometimes when she was alone, her thoughts drifted to times when life hadn't been measured by the timing of heartbeats, and the sight of blood didn't immediately cause a ringing in her ears. Where she came from was far from this coastal metropolis, further inland and forgotten, always under appreciated by those outside it's realm. There had been long nights in the darkness, chasing lights on the winds, followed by days in murky swimming holes with nothing on but a smile. Piper hadn't come from privilege or power or pride, but she had still thought herself clever having sneaked away from the fields and mountains of another life. It was in these recollections she felt regret, a tangible trinket she toyed with in the pitch of her confinement, and it never really stopped eating away at her thoughts. One did well remembering their roots, their home, but sometimes her memories were blurry images rather than vibrantly recorded relay.

Sometimes, she could barely make out the faces of her loved ones.

For now, the youth was so drugged and worn that being separated from the chair wasn't much a task, save for the initial lifting. There wasn't much in the way of weight to her, just muscles that needed to stretch and grow, with the shapes of bundled bones poking out in barer places. Knobbly knees and jutting elbows, ribs that stuck out a bit too far - yet her face remained pleasant, attractive in it's sleepy gaze. There was no light to her eyes, but if one looked hard enough, they could imagine what it must have looked like when there was.

He was right to think the journey would hurt, and it did, though Piper didn't seem willing to put up much fight or complaint on the matter. Her vision blinked in and out of involvement with their travels, head resting against his chest, ear to the sounds of his breathing. Even when half present, Piper didn't dare release the grasp she held on the blanket. Where were they going? He was promising home. Sweetling, he called her, and he promised home. Something about these words made her heart soar, but whether there was any truth to them, she didn't actually pretend to know. Assuming their organization was beyond trickery seemed awful naive. Especially of the woman who had been tied to a chair just moments before.

Expressing some sort of appreciation to being outside her once prison, Piper hugged close, making her frame seem even more desperate and bare like a weather wracked sapling. There wasn't much to say though, being he was well aware of where he intended to take her, and she was unfortunately not. The warmth and quiet of the trip did wonders for her nerves though. Pale ginger lashes blinked up at his features from time to time, trying to absorb as much detail as she could while he wasn't looking, though being caught didn't stop the stares. How she perceived this hero may have been considered natural, and hawkish peering assured her there wasn't much else to settle on. The roads beyond, the various sights of the city, and inevitably, their destination.

This was not her home.

Marched before a series of faces she didn't recognize, the man carrying her seemed to emit importance, as their actions were subservient to his. Even the woman who offered him a meal was completely for show, far too much facade for the injured woman to understand or respect. This was another strange home she hadn't accepted being dragged off to, a tower where the world below the skyline ceased to exist. A prospect that frightened Piper was that she had yet to recover from her last ordeal and already she was being moved to another cell. Regardless his intentions, the man she was with hadn't asked where she was from or where she needed to go. He hadn't even called the police, instead shuffling her around like some sort of luggage he had picked up used at the swap meet.

Cognizance returned when she was among pillows and finery, on sheets of presumably his bed. "A bath." The first time she had spoken since her initial thanks, and it was a flat whisper directed his way before she scrunched into a ball to hug her knees, laid sideways on the bed. Piper didn't face her blond companion while he made his call, instead studying the choice of comforter with a mixed impression. What sort of kinkster love nest had she fallen into? Comically, Piper found herself deciding she had fallen into the clutches of the Illuminati, and there would be a sacrifice, and a ceremony, and she was going to be the guest of honor.

"When do I die?"

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-19-2014

He would wait all night for the 'Paid, with interest.' text to come through on his cell, a small vindication for the slight female figure curled on his bed. As it was the only thing he expected, he slid the device onto a shelf in the bathroom. Rolling up the sleeves of his ruined sweater, Connor headed for the tub.

Everything about this suite was overlarge and the bathtub was no exception, made for two...maybe three, though Connor found he generally preferred not to split his attentions. Acknowledging as he started to draw the water that he would not be joining her in it this night, and wholly unaroused by metal looped into tile, the young man stood, rummaging through the linen closet for a stack of washcloths and something fluffy. Soothing. It'll probably still fuckin' hurt, he thought bitterly. The resultant violet towel was large enough to swallow the fragile form huddled on their bed. He peered out of the bathroom at her, concerned by the general lack of movement. Maybe she'd dozed off...more likely, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her tormentors to return.

His father wasn't a good enough actor to pretend that morning that he hadn't known what condition she was in. Which meant Connor had been played, false information from his source fed by someone with a game to play, and that the pit no longer had any kind of chaperon, even a twisted one. If word got out...Green eyes closing at the thought, Connor shook his head.

He had to leave bad press in his uncle's hands. Focus instead on this one woman.

Steamy tendrils lifted from the basin. He ran a hand through his hair, considering ordering up some Epsom, rejecting the idea as he wasn't sure how fresh the blood he'd noted in her cell truly was. Then a bottle of painkillers, but she was out of it enough that he wasn't sure if they'd given her something...or if they'd simply neglected basic human needs like food and water.

Rage hit his blood and boiled. He shoved it away, closing the faucet like a physical stop-point, leaving the bath warm, but shallower than he would have liked. He'd sent the hounds in. He'd done what he could.

In the end, he decided he'd wait, call for what he needed to fix this after she'd bathed and was safely ensconced back on the bed. Connor set the hold temp on the tub's presets and rejoined her in the main suite.

When do I die?

One knee had joined her on the comforter when he heard the soft question. It stopped his breath. That wasn't how things usually went. Not a single person in his bed had ever asked him when he intended to snuff them out. He rather liked to think it wasn't a concern one had when seduced by boyish dimples and infamous charm. But then, he'd never brought home one like her, one abused and defeated.

He crumpled the comforter in his fists. "You will not be harmed here," Connor assured her, and then sighed. "The bath is warm, not hot. And...it may hurt in your current state."

Connor slid a hand under the coverlet to remove her slippers, an arm around her thin body, leaving the blanket to prevent skin to skin contact. Scooping her against him, he stood. How light she was, cradled in his arms like some broken, discarded marionette. For the first time since that hallway, an emotion stronger than anger clamored for attention in his head. "But I promise you--this place is safe. I will not hurt you, nor will anyone I allow under our roof."

Slowly, he settled her on the side of the tub, an arm around her to keep her upright. One hand eased upward, brushing the blanket aside and his thumb across a smudge on her fair cheek. "Believe that if you believe nothing else, sweetling."

He placed her feet in the water first, to gauge her approval of the temperature. Another sigh escaped his lips. The blanket had to go. "I'm removing the cover now," he warned, and gave it a gentle tug. By the time he'd settled her into the water and against the back of the basin, anger was back, because her body, the extent of her mistreatment...How dare they? Connor wasn't the kind of man to get queasy at the sight of torment--kind of not an option in his bloodline--but his stomach took a left turn anyway. She would've been a beautiful, laughing, spitfire of a woman, he'd bet money on it, or maybe a sweet, shy whip of a thing. And they'd marred her blue and purple and green, stripped her of whatever spirit had been, left her to suffer in solitude.

Beautiful things were meant to brighten one's world.

"What have they done to you?" and this time, the question was a loaded whisper. Briefly, he wondered if he'd have to join her anyway, merely to hold her upright. Instead, he kept one arm locked, opting for a tack he hoped would appear not to threaten. Grabbing the stack of washcloths, he pressed two into her hands. A third, Connor dipped into the water with his free hand, then pressed it briefly to her forehead. Gentle strokes moved over strands of limp, red hair without a thought to ask her permission.

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 11-22-2014

Water ran in the other room and she listened with a greater intensity than she had to the phone conversation. How long had it been since she had taken a bath? Piper didn't want to think about it, and certainly didn't want to bring attention to this being a miserable state to be seen in. No one looked forward to being the victim in the story, and as far as her tale was told, she was a damsel is great distress. Absently, the balled figure curled further inward, hands placed on her knees so the palms could make blind assessments of how much weight had been lost. Again, more than she cared to admit - but at least she wasn't dying. It hadn't been that more than a day or so since her last meal; they had to have fed her. The effort came as brushing away mental cobwebs to map out her captivity, dissecting clips and scenes more carefully while left to her own devices. Had they been slipping her drugs? The more time Piper spent lingering on the memories, the less she wanted to.

When he returned, he earned a half grunt to imply she heard him. The blankets on the bed dragged in his grasp, sliding her slender person around the mattress, but it was forgotten in her complacency. She took no slight, accepted this fate, and seemed only to respond in the barest fashion. Even when gathered in able arms with the blanket swaddled about her shoulders, she didn't seem phased. Only Piper's brow knit, becoming a clustered ledge over hunter green hues to acknowledge the pain. There had been worse things to fear throughout her stay in that place, worse people to shy away from... They moved in tandem without anecdotes from the woman, just forest orbs taking in another room she had never explored.

His home was admittedly more inviting, clean and smelling of pleasantries she couldn't make out. Her nose still had dried blood clogging the nostrils, dried in unfortunate disregard, but it had been a godsend in her last location. Scanning the pseudo-filled tub as motions lowered her, the blanket was thrown to the wayside for lack of a better term, though this did nothing to elevate any inherent distress. The stranger had already seen her nude, so another flash of a battered shell didn't seem incredibly important to hide. Her long legs uncurled with the barest stretch, immediately tinging the water with the filth of blood and grime after extended time barefoot and bleeding. Feather light, Piper eased her slender digits along the meat of her inner thighs, against bruises and stained porcelain skin to gingerly assess damage. The rust stains still marked her ankles and wrists, but it was washing away while she soaked.

He called this 'our home', but at this point, Piper didn't even remember whether he had introduced himself. The touch along her cheek was light, airy, barely more than a breath as he wiped muck she couldn't see for herself. It seemed the more he saw of the damages, the less articulate he became. The final question was meant to be rhetorical, forgotten in his sympathy, but Piper shrugged. What had they done? Or, what hadn't they done? "Does it matter?" One act defined didn't seem necessary in the wake of her appearance, and Piper felt a queasiness in her gut at the notion of having to detail her account of the time kept locked away. No - He would have to take it for what it was worth. Whatever her body told him in the form of patchwork abuse was enough.

"But-" She moved on so he would stop fixating on the abuse because all this concern made her worried for her own sake more than she had been previously. If he was close to losing his cool at the sight of her, how should she be reacting? Had something inside her ceased to function properly? "this is your home?" A bare nod was sent to direct attention back towards the bedroom. "It's very big. How many people live with you?" She would otherwise let him clean what he chose to clean, her own hands busying themselves between and around her thighs under a murky cloud of maroon water. None of it was very pretty, but Piper had no other options than to try and direct attention away from the grotesque spectacle of cleaning up.

"I've never stayed in a place this high off the ground.."

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-23-2014

Connor shook his head slowly, his hands working warm water methodically through her locks, like a man bent on destroying evidence. In truth, he thought he might be freeing her from it, even if only a little, so that when she looked in a mirror, the memories wouldn't hurt her as much as he suspected the Ciraco brothers had. "Shouldn't it?" His fingers caught on a knot and he murmured in an apologetic tone as he eased them away from her hair, green eyes seeking a gentle shampoo from the fruity selection of bottles collected on the inset shelf of the tub. He settled on a conditioner that smelled of apple pie first, thinking to help soften the strands. "Or...maybe it's enough to know they won't ever touch you again."

Cool, slick apple gel smoothed through her hair, his fingers tugging gently where needed to set things to rights. He paused only a moment when that strained, sweet voice spoke up, her curiosity soothing the opposing, ragged ache inside his chest. "It's our home," he corrected softly, his fingers stirring once more. "Mine, and now also yours."

For a time. He just wasn't sure how long. Ordinarily...but this was nothing ordinary, and because of how she'd been treated under his family's roof. No matter that he didn't wish to claim that twisted branch of bloodline these days; loyalty to the Kristi name still dictated his wishes. He couldn't simply let her go. Couldn't risk her speaking out, or an opposing group getting their hands on her...or even his father reclaiming her for his dungeon.

"But yes, we're not alone. Ten guards--six men, four women--they rotate out on shifts." Variable ones, so if Connor's abode was under unwanted observation, they'd not be predictable. "When they're off the clock, they have eyes open and usually choose to be about. Training, eating, playing video games, the like. So...you can get to know them. There are four others in my uncle's employ who cover during leave. All good men as well, but they aren't here unless they're working. There's Josie, you sort of met. She helps keep house."

By the time he'd finished with a round of faintly vanilla-scented shampoo and another round of the apple pie conditioner, Connor felt more like himself. It may have had something to do with the fact that she looked more like she ought, softer instead of brittle, with dripping strands about her sweet, albeit bruised, face. He continued to fill the silence along with his ministrations, dabbing a fresh washcloth over her face, special care taken around her gag-abused lips, then down her neck, her hunched shoulders.

"Three other maids who do the same, again, in shifts. And ah...the title is more of a running joke, really." Given that they played cards to bet against one another's cleaning duties. One of them was also a man, and Ransom pretended to be French.

Connor smiled, and his dimples went deep. "What needs done, gets done." He swept the washcloth over her collarbone. "The most important one on-staff is Lilly. She's our full-time cook. You'll like her."

His jaw tightened on the assumption, and he stopped talking. That she'd like Lilly was mere hope, not certainty. It was true that so far Lillian got along with everyone. She also sewed up a mean bullet-hole. But Connor didn't know anything about this small, curious woman. Not her preferences--Did being on such a high floor bother her? Would she prefer something closer to the ground as she was more accustomed?--not her fears--though he could guess what they now were--not her hopes...not even her name. He started a bit at that. He'd been so focused on getting her out of that damned prison and she'd been so out of it, he hadn't wanted to press, hadn't wanted to strain her voice any further. Now that she was asking questions, though...it seemed a gaping hole in his knowledge of her, instead of simply a thing to be learned along the way. Maybe now that they were alone, maybe if she was feeling more like herself, maybe now was an appropriate time to ask.

And though she wouldn't note the import, to remedy his lapse, he knew he'd offer her something none of the women he'd kept in residence for a time had been allowed.

After all, this wasn't her choice.

"I...would like to call you by your name." He coughed then, his mouth suddenly dry. "You may call me...Connor."

The water was too dirty now to be effective, and Connor pulled the plug, checked the temperature from the faucet, ran it again. When the water would run clear, he'd drain it a final time, offer her the warmed towel, and help her once more into his arms.

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 11-27-2014

"No." Piper protested quietly, her hands moved onto her stomach to de-gunk any dirt that may have been plastered there. The pace was slow, careful, like she didn't know when this opportunity would happen again. After all, it had been some time since her last bath, and that had been nothing more than a hasty dunk in a pool. Memories were strange things, always abstract from the last time you focused on them, and while it may have been easy to see the eyes of those who kidnapped her, their actions were a cyclone with a funneled bottom. Perhaps today was the finish, widened and open for memorization. Perhaps what Connor said was worth paying heed to.

"I just don't want to talk about it." Not that Piper had much to add towards any fantasized horrors her companion could conceive just staring at the damages. She wore them defiantly, unashamed to be on display. There was no running from her own skin, and Piper didn't bother trying.

In the back of her mind, she was doing her best to keep tabs on what he said. The numbers, the extent of staff and security he housed. It wasn't anything she could relate to, having come from less than the average, with only family as a steady backbone to the inner workings of her household. In comparison, it was nothing more than a hovel in the fields, though she didn't really want to say that out loud. There were a great many things to be intimidated about in this moment, but the size of this stranger's home seemed the least important.

The stranger's name was Connor. That part she would not forget.

"Piper." Voice like a chime, she was barely louder than the water filling the tub for the second time. Initially, she had wanted to give her full name, as though he could sort out her affairs and ensure she returned safe. The only problem with this plan of hers was whether or not it could drag her family into these sordid, ugly affairs. Piper had never been much of a gambler, and what little time she had spent doling out cards and trying to keep a straight face hadn't ended favorably for her. That hadn't mattered at the time, but now it seemed to strike a cord, which stuck a frown on now clean features.

With her hair washed and rinsed, it looked less like a dead cat; though it needed brushing. Taming, if one were to get technical. The curls had begun to twist and form around her ears, fiery half ringlets to frame a milk white portrait where emerald hues stared openly at their surroundings. Not once since they two had began speaking did Piper stop looking around, and though still slightly less aware than she could be, the woman felt she was making strides in terms of memory. The catacombs were swept and dusted, sorted as Connor wrapped her in a towel to remove her from the water. The action came so naturally in this place, she didn't even flinch at the brief pangs of pain being lifted caused.

"I could eat." Offhandedly, Piper threw out the option so there was no question concerning whether or not he should feed her. After all, her body was sure enough sign she had missed plenty of meals, and though she was doing her best to be pseudo-difficult to be around, she wasn't going to punish herself by denying the need for nourishment. Beaming bright greens at Connor's face, they waited to see how he would respond. Did he just summon food from that woman Lilly? Was there a private capsule passage they shot it up through, or did he keep his upper levels just as stocked as the lower ones? Piper had a sick fascination with their location because she had never been anywhere so decadent.

Certainly not a residence of this size - that much she could guarantee.

"But I would like clothing." Another small fact they had glossed over in context. "Or a robe. Just something so cover up with..."

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 11-27-2014

No, it shouldn't matter what they did to her? Or no, it didn't help to know the Ciracos were no longer a concern? Maybe no to both, Connor considered, rinsing the shampoo suds out of her hair to slide down her slim shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to straighten the longer she had to wash away the recent past.

Piper.

Piper, who didn't seem afraid...of him.

Piper, who had strength yet, if only flickering glimpses peered through those sage-rimmed pupils.

Ah, but it seemed that questions were sated, none further arising after his rundown of the staff. Connor carried her slowly back to the bed, sitting her up so her legs hung over the side. Was she thinking? Fretting? Considering her new circumstance? Or had his attempt to fill the silence result in her name, but crush her curiosity?

Connor's lips parted to ask, but as he inhaled a breath of apple a strong, clear request came from the girl draped in over-indulgently fluffy lilac. "Good," he said instead, gripping the ends of the towel together over her chest with one hand, smoothing damp tendrils of flame around her head with the other. "That's very good." Because though her curiosity hadn't led to more questions, she was nonetheless not afraid to make such requests. Not refusing food, not curling away from him, not huddling in a ball and wordlessly waiting for things to happen around her. Maybe she hadn't been down there too long, seen anything close to the worst of his father's men.

Maybe it was just a facet of his mysterious Piper, a woman strong as well as curious.

A certainty struck him then, and he felt something akin to pride well in his chest. Because her lack of reticence meant one thing: There was hope.

"I'll order something up." Connor leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then murmured, "Won't take long. Rest, sweetling--ah...my...Piper."

He strode to the wall by the door and slid off a loafer with one hand even as he pressed a code into the intercom.

"Yes, Master Connor~" a male voice answered with a trill.

"Ransom." Connor started in surprise, shoe in hand. Hadn't Josie been on call? "Can you have Lilly--"

"Oh, of course! She's already prepared a tray," came the pre-emptive reply. Ransom's coquettish tone changed to something more serious. "Thought you might be piqued after meeting with your father so late."

"Not for me--"

"Of course for you, Master! The lovely you brought home isn't the only one who needs to eat to keep her strength up, non? We'll be up soooon~"

The intercom light flicked off and Connor stared at it for a moment. In his own round-about way, Ransom had meant a meal for two was on its way. But...

We'll?

Alarm flickered across his face and Connor dropped the shoe, scrubbing his hands over his cheeks. Oh, hell. Not tonight. Do they not realize this is a delicate situation? That Piper is unlike their usual Master's suite tenant? That tonight is not the night I'll be making introductions? Tomorrow, he'd take them to task for behaving so unprofessionally in front of a new guest. Not that he'd ever expected them to be anything but themselves before with his one-night stands, his other long-term pets. But though Piper would be their mistress, she wasn't yet in a condition to deal with that kind of energy. Damn it, just mentioning the men and women who made up this strange adopted family of his had made her go quiet.

Meeting the zoo will only serve to make her draw into herself. Won't it?

He glanced back toward the woman he'd rescued and felt a middling sensation of frustrated angst. Turning to the wall, he inhaled, resisted the urge to punch the elegant molding. He didn't know. He didn't know a fucking thing. Just this once, Connor felt the urge to appear as though he were in utter control of the men and women under his roof. Some control, somewhere, instead of feeling adrift and blindly mapping something uncharted, thanks to the loss of this round to his father. A round with his security team certainly wouldn't be remiss, but letting off steam could not be his first priority.

He slid off his other shoe, then his socks as he strived for order amid the disorder of his thoughts. Curling, uncurling, and curling his toes once more into the thick, tan carpet. It was enough that he trusted those in his employ with his life. With hers. No matter how nosy they took it upon themselves to be. A sigh fought for release. He swallowed it.

Just something to cover up with...

Her request was so soft, in that disused voice of hers that gained clarity with each tinkling word, that he almost missed it, buried in moody introspection by the intercom. Another good sign, and a wish he desperately wanted to fill, because he definitely didn't need the staff to see her like this. One pass, one stairwell, a blanket as a shroud--that was enough for today.

"I would love to provide those things tonight. But," and he turned to her, a wealth of regret in his tone, "your closet is empty." A stark reminder that she hadn't moved in on her own. Another failure on his part, for not sending anyone to at least stock up on a variety of sizes in even basic things. "We can send for the tailor in the morning. Or. And." Connor curled his toes into the carpet again, feeling selfish in even considering the pleasing alternative that would press his scent close to her skin. "For tonight, perhaps something of mine will do?"

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 12-01-2014

Piper had either outgrown the fear that came with being held in captivity or she was very good at hiding it. In the grand scheme of things, neither mattered, yet it was good to know the stakes. If there were reasons to fear Connor, they needed to surface quickly so she could brace for any consequences. Her demeanor was that of a spoiled child, all wants and vague desires with no means of backing up the questions and comments. Even when it came to whether or not she appreciated the pet name she was given, she seemed aloof, going so far as to ignore the title when it was mentioned. She had given her name, and whether this was respected or forgotten would be proven in time, as it seemed she would not be receiving any aid in escaping. Alas, he had now wrapped her back in a towel, and whisked her from the tub of lukewarm water, back to the bed which she had earlier become acquainted with.

It was a sprawl that she found herself settling into, beneath a cloth too large for someone her size, limbs spread and slender so their appendages poked out the sides. "Fine." It was said as a solid end to his miss wording, as if she could be persuaded to ignore the slight in favor of other activities involving him going away for the time being. Company didn't suit her attitude at the moment. Not that this could be surprising, given how limited her human contact had been for the past several... Well, it had been a decently long period of isolation. Piper couldn't recall how long exactly, but long enough that the nail polish was stripped from her nails, and the baby fat she had once harbored was now replaced with a leaner, gaunter appearance. Given a few more days, and she would resemble an anti-anorexia ad. For not, she was just twiggy and the definition was visible by grace of bone structure alone.

From the distance, she could make out the conversation from Connor's side. There was no privacy when one dealt with Piper, as she was naturally curious, and inevitably, keen to listen in on things she needn't be involved in. His order was so short, she almost questioned whether there was someone else on the other end of the call, but she wasn't entirely loopy and could figure they were a prepared lot who knew what to bring and when to bring it. After all, she had been an avid television watcher for her teenage years, and in every rich household scenario, house keepers and help provided their employers a decadent escape from whatever harshness reality countered with. Piper had been envious at the time, but now lived in a dream state where she was still half hoping she could wake up and be back home.

Was this the price she paid for the 'good life'?

Hues scanned bruises on her exposed shins, contemplative of what may have occurred to battered the pale pigment so entirely, but Connor returned before an answer could be settled on. News of clothing had turned into a bit of a confusing ordeal it seemed because he initially said there was nothing available in her closet, and this implied she had a closet. One ginger brow raised suspiciously, and the act was comical considering her portrait was half buried in the bedspread. "When did I get a closet?" Taking a deep breath as the woman shifted to sit up, the towel was wrapped tightly around her shoulders to form a tent-like hideaway so she wasn't presenting herself. Even if he had seen everything in great detail during the bath, she still remained as modest as would be expected from a woman partially nude in the company of a stranger.

"I wouldn't mind wearing something of yours? I don't know. Any clothing would be good. I don't care what it looks like-" She felt strange having to explain the value of clothing to Connor, but he seemed to need some sort of encouragement. "But I'm asking for something to wear so I'm not sitting here in a towel. I'm sure whatever you have to offer would be fine."

Piper returned to her silence when she was finished, staring him down with emerald orbs that refused to leave his features.

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 12-04-2014

"When you became mine," he replied dryly, long, barefooted strides returning him to the side of the bed as she sat up to consider his offer. "We can discuss that now if you like. Or tomorrow, when you've eaten, slept, and feel more like yourself now that you're free of that place."

Ah, but his sharp, curious woman would notice that he hadn't left it at "free". The news probably could've been broken more gently. He couldn't imagine it would be much of a surprise after having already been under lock and key once, and this clearly not being wherever she had come from. Still. It was going to take a tricky amount of work to bring her around to the understanding that the place she'd call home now was not captivity so much as protection.

Not enslavement or punishment so much as opportunity, care...privilege, perhaps, if she was the type to allow it.

But he also couldn't let her think she had an open tab on indulgence. Connor had rules, and while he was loathe to enforce them while Piper was in her present state, he suspected she was a fighter, would push the limits of this relationship the closer she came into her element. If she tested the boundaries too much, she'd discover he simply didn't take orders. From anyone. Nor was he especially prone to spoiling someone who came to believe they were entitled. Pretty requests from lips that would be pretty too, underneath the bruising, though? Open-ended ones, no less? His eyes twinkled at her and he smiled. It was an impish thing, his dimples digging in deep.

"Anything, it is. Wouldn't want the bed to get damp with that thing, I suppose." He turned slightly, then met her gaze again. Even knowing he should let her rest, give her time, Connor couldn't quite do it this time. Now that she was focused enough to speak so clearly, now he had words from her once more, he wasn't willing to hear them stop. "Do you object to the towel itself, or simply to wearing it? There are other options available...for the next time."

Whatever her answer, he'd nod, and force himself to give her space for a little longer. He continued toward the closet to the far right of the bed. Lingering over clothes that were perfectly fine, Connor shook his head. He wouldn't let her hide from him, not in clothes that would swallow her up. Nor would he be cruel and provide her with something so thin she'd have been better off wearing the towel. He moved past the silk dress shirts, carefully layered and pressed inside the few suit ensembles he owned, ignored the drawers of Henleys and sweaters and workout attire, considered finer things with colors. Thinking to tease her and see what resulted in her present state, Connor slipped a light green button-up shirt from a hanger, then a pair of loose, black meditation pants out of a drawer. He tucked the pants out of sight as he came around the bed, setting only the cotton top on the bedspread before her. "There you are," he shrugged. "Clothing. Not a towel." After a long moment, he would have reached for the pants so the teasing wouldn't prove instead to be a new stressor. Instead, the chime at the suite door went off.

"I'll be right back." Connor moved to it at a clip, remembering with some distress that dreaded "we" word that Ransom had uttered.

There at the door were no less than four of his staff--and Lilly. Connor glanced over his shoulder, then back to the people gathered in the entry off the stairwell. He shook his head. For others he'd brought home, his staff preferred to introduce themselves one at a time. So for them to be collecting here? Piper had made an impact. She certainly had on him, so it shouldn't have been surprising.

Josie was up the stairs next, handing a fluffy, white robe through the hoard.

"Thank you," he said, nodding to her and then to the others in turn. "Not tonight, but thank you."

They took it in stride, dispersing as smoothly as leaves down a stream. Piper didn't need the overwhelm. And even if he knew they wouldn't pity her, but rather rage for her sake, she didn't need to see any more concern tonight. Lilly smiled sadly, the petite blond handing over an overburdened tray that Connor settled on his forearms over the robe.

"Soup," she said with a bob of her head, "make sure she sips it slow and not too much too quickly, now."

There was clearly more she wanted to say, but Connor had already spotted the antibiotic cream, aloe lotion, and cold pack on the tray, as well as the extra bowl, silver spoons, and twin glasses of water. He nodded his thanks again, then backed into the room and toed the door shut.

"The staff was eager to meet you. You have a pass tonight, but tomorrow morning...well. Breakfast should be interesting. And not eaten in bed," he added with a small smile. As efficiently as he could, he slid the tray onto the bedside stand, scooped the pants from behind the bedpost, then set them and the robe beside her before climbing up to join her, firmly staking his place against the headboard. Hauling the tray onto his lap, he rotated it so her bowl and glass were to his left, her spoon closer to her than him to prevent him from being tempted to feed her.

Resisting temptation was never easy for a man used to having his way.

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 12-11-2014

"Yours?"

Piper felt that anger from before, the feeling of helplessness working towards the surface to rest hot on her features. Portrait blanched before shifting to roseate tint as he spoke, accompanying her inset frown which seemed to speak far louder than her voice was allowed to carry. Many things were misplace in his assurances, and the lack of direct answers were starting to wear down the calm she had tricked herself into feeling. Grief was a delicious, vile thing that sometimes masked itself beneath contentment. No one wanted to admit that a situation that, at face value, seemed better than their previous experiences could be bad. On the contrary, making something less awful didn't make it favorable, just slightly easier to tolerate. A huff escaped the red head as though furthering her disagreement, but arguing wasn't a skill she had ever practiced, so it petered off to another bout of pseudo-pouty silence.

At least he was kind enough to agree on clothing, which came as a green shirt that matched her eyes. Too large to ever be something she wore publicly, it slipped over her slender arms without much ado, her fingers buttoning the front so perky breasts were no longer a bruised reminder of her previous captivity. "Thank you." Piper was appreciative of the help she received, even if she was ornery in the ways someone placed in her position was expected to be. Her mind half concocted plans to make a break for it, but with all the security sweeping the building, there would be no chance. Especially with her legs so sore from their previously restrained circumstances, weak and emaciated and battered in spreading damage that seemed especially awful the higher it reached on her thighs. One thing she refused to do was focus on all the injuries - it wouldn't be a happy recount by any means.

"The towel was... I don't know. A towel. I just don't want to sit in a towel in front of you." The fact he seemed not to understand this point was starting to grate on her nerves, and as they eroded, so too did the silence she had tried to maintain. "Why on Earth would I want to just sit around practically naked?" Shakily, her hand raised to point accusingly at Connor. "I-I barely know you! Why are you taking this so lightly!? You keep talking about me like I'm an object! At first, I was so happy someone had found me, but now? Who the hell are you?" Piper hissed the last part, eyes alight with intensity she had yet shared. "You don't get it-"

Tirade paused as the chime of visitors shattered her concentration, and the sternness seeped away without so much as a whisper. Wide hunter hues followed Connor off to where he met with his employees, though she only made out the vaguest details through the narrow doorway. The angles just didn't allow for her to fully investigate the motley crew. Piper found herself poking bruises with mild interest in what she could overhear, lids heavier by the minute. Even if the drugs weren't keeping her drowsy, the whole evening had been tiring, and fatigue was something she had grown used to over the course of several weeks. Connor returned holding more than just food, and Piper didn't answer initially when he mentioned his staff's interest in meeting her. No one asked how she felt in all of this - maybe that was because he didn't care what the answer might have been.

It took a great deal of willpower not to continue where she had left off, but the futility such accusation were born from was unbecoming. Piper already looked and felt like shit. The last thing she needed to do was throw a tantrum towards whomever Connor happened to be. Pants were handed over while he handled soup, and the woman was quick to slip them on in her attempts to retain some semblance of modesty. Everything had been stripped away from her at this point; what little she could manage to retain was held without question. When finished, she joined him on the large covered surface to eat soup, though she remained opposite his figure, happy to ensure the space they were parted by remained intact. A spoonful of broth was blown on several times longer than it needed to be before it was swallowed, Piper sighing softly at nourishment.

Spoon after spoon was consumed, maybe a little messily at the speed she worked, but the entirety of the meal was taken without a word. No thanks or complaint or ever stray apology for her previous statements. Piper actually ignored him for much of the meal, save for the last stretch when she gulped her water down with a series of audible swigs. Only then was she back to staring at him. Waiting. Trying to figure out what to make of this man.

"Why am I here?" Piper asked, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to know. "Why didn't you take me to the hospital or the police?"

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 12-12-2014

She wasn't happy with his declaration. Not that he'd expected her to be, and with how she'd been treated, it also would have been too much to hope. His hands would have curled into fists at the reminder but for the expression on her face. Which was glorious. So far from the broken demeanor he'd found her with that it actually made him grin. His Piper was, as he'd thought, a fighter. So instead of turning on her when she dialed up the temper, Connor smiled warmly, and inclined his head at the one-word question. Delivered a one-word answer. "Mine."

That the response held more gravel in its tone than usual was something he didn't have time to examine--and soon shrugged off.

Thin as she was from her incarceration, the shirt swallowed her, but it did it in a way that made him eminently pleased she'd chosen it over the towel. Connor's breath dragged shallowly into his lungs at the way the smooth, light fabric looked with those cinnamon locks and clover hues, draped over her not like a possessive lover, but rather one she'd allowed to snuggle close, buttons winking at him where they dipped against her skin. Breathing came easily again on an inward sigh of relief with her lack of towel-criticism. The last longterm mistress under his roof would have instantly demanded higher quality linens, and he wasn't about to tolerate that sort of foolish entitlement again. He hoped it was more a case that she genuinely felt that way--that it was just a towel, or better, that she held slight preferences and just wasn't comfortable expressing them yet--rather than the disturbing alternative. It was too soon to tell.

It was also too soon to tease. That much was clear when she exploded with words. He'd hoped teasing her would show him more of the spark that existed within her, hoped it hadn't been beaten from her, nor buried too deeply. What he found was fire. He carefully smoothed his expression and let her vent. And tried very, very hard to think of something boring. (Of course, thinking of baseball stats is pointless when one doesn't follow the damned game.) Piper was dangerously vibrant like this, and the part of him who'd expected to retrieve the usual sort of pet that evening was aroused at the idea of putting that fiery energy to a more productive use. Particularly with her wearing his shirt and leaning forward, all that sudden heat seething from that tiny body. He could think of a few reasons why a woman would like to sit around practically naked with him, and as soon as those bruises healed, he planned to provide hands-on examples of every single one.

The bruises. Gods, he was an asshole. Purple welts around the wrist of the hand she aimed his way, made darker still against the contrary tones of his own damned threads, knocked wayward thoughts back in line, past the heat in her eyes. In the bathroom, his phone buzzed once. His Uncle, most likely, a debt paid and a sentence delivered. He curled the toes of one foot into the carpet, resolved once more to behave, and met her gaze evenly as she railed.

It was a quarter of the way through his soup before he addressed her outburst at all, setting his spoon down and looking at her directly. She'd dressed more thoroughly, and he was still unremorseful that he'd teased her. Not when the result was an honest admission of some of her concerns. One palm eased forward to rest lightly across the arch of one of her feet. "Objects are lifeless, bought, traded, sold. You, sweetling, are quite alive. Owned, yes, but by no means commodity. This is a different sort of belonging." As well as one that went both ways, in the proper manner of things. Both in the rules Connor played by, and in the responsibilities he owed her care.

His thumb smoothed along the delicate side of her foot. "I will gladly tell you many things about myself, Piper. You need only ask. Just...please, slow down on the soup before Lilly uses me to stock the next one." The last was said with a grin before he resumed his own meal and waited for her to come up for air.

"Ah," he started as quietly as he could. Now would be a great time to tread more carefully on the subject. "There is nowhere else you can go where the Family won't immediately retrieve you. My father's men would stick you back in that hole. Or kill you."

Failing miserably on the treading, genius. Connor's brain offered a helpful flurry of curse words, and he shifted the tray to more easily display the arrangement of first aid goods, offering her a cold pack as he elaborated without apology, "The ranks of the Kristi Cartel--you were held under the Head of House's estate--are very closed, very secretive. Guarding those secrets to the end, damn the consequences. They would not trust you to keep your mouth closed about what you saw in that basement, the treatment you received." As he spoke, he cracked open a tube of home-brew gel, a concoction that smelled of lavender and mint and felt both warm and cold to the touch. Gods knew what she'd put in it, but he'd used it after a number of rumbles and knew it would ease the sting on the worst of Piper's injuries. Again without asking, he took liberties, gripping her heel with one hand and applying the gel to the mess of one ankle with the other. "The police, useless as they are, the hospitals, they'd ask questions. You'd answer. Perhaps even alert your family and friends to your whereabouts, and in turn put them in danger. And so you're here, where I can protect you--and where you can keep a number of bystanders from also being killed as collateral."

As to this particular suite...Connor left the explanation wanting and reached for her other foot. His curls jostled as he angled a careful look at her that most assuredly was not counting buttons. "So again. Welcome home."

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - Kat - 12-21-2014

They were playing games. Piper less than Connor, though as a pivotal piece on his chess board, she wasn't given much choice in the matter. The way his words tried to sooth the anger ebbing beneath her surface was good, practiced perhaps, but it wasn't going to be enough. In the case of ignorance and bliss, this was seeing the encompassing world with blinders on. Curtailed, stunted, she couldn't find his eyes again until a welcome was issued. Home now being a place she never wished to visit, with Connor, a man she didn't care to know. Maybe being rescued hadn't been as clear cut the woman expected it to be, but she did understand the cost of his involvement, tied in to countless reasons home wasn't an option.

There would be snow falling this time of year back on the farm, and Piper could recall the townsfolk shuffling through endless white like ants in a sugar bowl.

"And I'm sure that would put a damper on your mood." The reasons given presented sound empirical argument for gloom. Piper expressed it with glances to her emptied dish, drops of soup drawn into thin rivulets by her spoon, designs lost with every new stroke. "You make it sound like this happens all the time..." All at once, the utensil was dropped with an irritating clink. "Do you know how fucked up what you're saying is? Like, do you have any idea how fucking nuts you sound right now?"

Emeralds shot back up to his features, her posture still locked in a half slump over the remnants of their meal. "Where does that leave me?" Mindful of the attention at her foot, Piper did her best not to jostle his digits away from the appendage as his reaction would likely not be one she cared to instigate. "People will look for me. Trust me, my daddy isn't the sort to just let this type of thing go." But behind the wave of indignation, there was also a practically palpable sense of dread. Her father might not take her vanishing standing, but that didn't mean he would have any idea where to look. In that vein of depression, Piper felt her lashes batting hard and fast against her cheeks to keep tears at bay.

"You better fucking believe I'm gonna get out of here. I don't care if you have an army here to keep me in, I'm gonna get out!" Betrayed by her emotions, both of Piper's hands shot up to wipe away the warm saline, soon tasting salt and despair at the corners of her lips. It had been some time since the last instance she cried, and even if she hardly trusted Connor to keep from watching him, there wasn't a way to focus on both at once. So there would be sniffling and she would shudder until her foundation was a crumbled, crudely mashed replacement for the quiet demeanor previously shared. One didn't simply ignore trauma, but in certain dolorous circumstance, it could be neglected like a black eye under heavy concealer.

A slow, staggered gasp for air acknowledged when she had finished. Followed by several long inhales and exhales, the woman straightened her back and lowered her palms to sit one on each battered thigh, remaining statuesque in that brief window of clear, pure silence. Connor may have felt the weight of her gaze, but it was as fictional as her hopes for rescue. Piper looked beyond him, beyond the bed frame and the far wall, beyond the room. Nothing she looked at had anything to do with him. "Where are we?" But the singular question was too broad, so she narrowed it almost immediately. "What city?"

It was hard to swear to making a valiant exit from captivity when one didn't know just where they were.

Uncommon Bonds [Kat & Dani, Closed] - danixiewrites - 12-27-2014

If she thinks that's crazy, wait until she gets a load of our sleeping arrangements...

"I never said I belonged to a decent Family," he said, one brow lifting at the clink of silver against the less elegant ceramic. "Nor can I deny its fucked up-itude." A smile curved the left side of his mouth. He slathered gel on her other ankle, rubbing it in gently until one could barely feel it smooth the surface. While he might have considered her feelings on the matter, it never crossed his mind that she'd stop him from touching or tending to her, nor that she'd even consider it; he simply took everything thus far as his due. "This is the world we live in, Piper. I was born to it; you had the misfortune of being drafted and no, you're not the first, and no, you won't be the last. Hell, you've effectively seen my father's basement. You can't believe cruelty starts and ends under that roof, can you? If his men were able to treat you like that in his home, what exactly do you think they'd do if you were out there, without his rules to keep them in check? Never mind keeping you quiet: What do you think he'd order them to do, just to make sure no one else could have you?"

He considered her wrists next, marred the same as her ankles by having been bound so tightly. "In a sense, yes. This is business as usual. I've taken others from under my father's nose. Just...none in your condition. And...you are also the first one I can't allow--" He cut himself off, reaching forward to lightly grip her jaw, forcing her gaze to his. "Right now, he can't touch you. By his own rules, he considers you mine. He is not happy with that--because his interpretation of that word is far different from my own. But if I let you go?"

His father would be more than delighted to see his acquisition back on the street. Connor might have had those particular guards dealt with, but there were always others willing to step up. He shook his head and his hand released its hold on her chin to open, palm up, in a silent request she let him tend to a wrist. Whether or not she granted his touch willingly, the result would be the same.

"I believe you, Piper. A lovely woman like you? I'm sure those you knew have already begun," Connor said. It wouldn't do her any good to speak gently here. So he gave her honesty, and prepared to take a punch--verbal or otherwise--from the wounded being before him. "It's certainly been more than 24 hours and so your father probably also involved the law, yes? And so long as they never find you, they, too, will be safe." He continued sliding slick fingers over her skin, gripping her other wrist firmer once the gel had settled into the bruises there, his fingers less slippery in the hold. A piercing green look that demanded her full attention and held nothing but cold, sick truth. "Piper. No one will find you. Walter Kristi does not make mistakes. Your trail will not simply be cold--it will have never existed."

Perhaps if she'd remained under that roof, her father might indeed have found her. In a week or so, and only in a gutter, or the morgue, or scattered in bits across the city. Here though? She was less than a whisper, lost in the bustle of the city and the depravity of its inner workings.

He'd thought himself prepared for the worst she had to throw back in his face. And if she'd stopped at that anticipated declaration, he would have been right. The thought of this slip of a woman providing entertainment for the off-duty members of their household in her efforts to breach security from the inside-out was far more amusing than he'd admit aloud.

But the tears...the sobbing...darker spots of green flecking the shirt he'd given her...the ache in his own gut was worse than he'd expected. He didn't let it show, cocking his head at her as she collapsed, simply moving the tray to the nightstand, plucking the linen napkins from under each of the bowls. Connor wiped his hands with the first though he wasn't done--he'd seen far more bruises during her bath, and they, too would need care. He moved, lithe in a motion that spoke of hours in a gym as he closed in on her collapsed form. Not touching her again, not yet, instead waiting her out. It had to be a difficult thing to hear, that one was but a ghost who couldn't go home--that doing so would be the end of everyone she loved. And who did Piper love? he found himself wondering. The thought wasn't as distracting from her tears as he'd hoped.

When she finally straightened, he shrugged. "Valesport."

He was far from feeling as casual as the lift of his shoulders implied. The expression on her face before she'd pulled from her remaining stores of strength tore at him, made him want anew to have killed his father's soldiers slowly instead of having them snuffed in the night. Whether his Piper felt safe or not was not Connor's concern. Whether she accepted what was to be her fate, continued to rail against him, or even sought to flee their home didn't matter. What mattered was that he knew she was protected now, here, that she was safe with him and in his care, that she wasn't twisting under knives or cocks or fists or whatever the fuck the twisted bastards had brought against her in the Pit, and that he held this small, fierce woman in his arms again to prove as much to the ragged edges inside his chest.

And so he held out a hand.

"Come here, Piper," he said, nodding his head to one side. "Now."