I watched from against the wall, huddled at the top of the bed as Valentin’s neck bulged at the tightness of the metal choking his neck. My body trembled. Then with a loud roar, Valentin’s head snapped back and his muscled body corded, veins and muscles strained to their limit.

His body shook. I swallowed when his length hardened and slapped against his torso. His hands balled into fists; then, with a quick pained exhale, he lowered his head.

Dread infused my body when those dilated almost-black eyes set on me. I curled up in fear on the bed.

The drugs had set in. The torturer had returned. No matter how hard Valentin tried to pretend he was not a vicious killer, this version of him, the man with black eyes, was the demon that kidnapped me.

And it was that collar. It was something in that collar that forced him to be this, this … thing.

Then he approached. He loomed before me and cracked the knuckles on his hand. “No,” I begged when he came closer. He stopped. My heart raced at the possibility that I’d gotten through to him.

Shuffling farther forward, I said, “Valentin? Valentin? Can you hear me?” His head tilted to the side. A vain thread of hope took root in my chest.

Then he looked up. When I followed what he was looking at, all blood drained from my body. The pulley. The pulley fixed to the ceiling above the bed.

Suddenly he lurched forward, slamming me onto the bed, knocking the air from my lungs. In seconds, the pulley from above began to lower. Then he was at my side, rope in his hands.

My body shook, my lip quivered, but this man didn’t care. He reached forward and gripped the ankle of my leg. His breathing was heavy, sweat coating his skin. Whatever the collar was injecting into his body caused his skin to bump and grow damp.

Pulling me to a sitting position, he spread my knees apart with his hand. Grabbing both wrists, he pulled my arms behind my back. I screamed out in pain at the unnatural position, but he ignored my cries. He wrapped the rope around my chest, just above my breasts. Next, with the rope around my chest, he tied my wrists and attached them to the pulley. He yanked on my arms, to check it was in place. I bit on my tongue to stop a cry leaving my mouth.

I couldn’t move. I was stuck.

This monster next wrapped rope around my thighs, tying it around the two posts on either side of the bed. Next came my ankles. He pushed them together, securing them to a post on the wall.

I tried to move, but I could barely even flinch.

He walked before me and, kneeling on the bed, harshly gripped my cheeks with his hand. Whipping my head to face him, he barked, “Who is Zaal Kostava to you?”

Staring in his dead eyes, I steeled myself. This wasn’t Valentin anymore. This thing could not be bargained with. Could not be beat. I knew from recent experience that this version of Valentin hung around for an hour, two at most.

I would have to endure his wrath.

Taking a deep inhale, I closed my eyes and said, “I know no one by that name.”

As I sensed his body moving closer to mine, I felt fingers palming my breasts. I prayed that the hour or two would go quickly. I prayed that Valentin would fight whatever control he was under.

My teeth gritted as I fought for breath. His hands roamed everywhere. His touch was rough and unpleasant.

There was no pleasure in this touch; pleasure wasn’t his intention.

A strangled moan came from my mouth and another tore from my chest as his nose ran along the side of my neck. Then the monster knelt before me. I choked on a sob when his teeth dragged over my skin, down over my chest to my breasts. At my loud cry, he looked up. Reaching out his hand, he pushed the hair back from my face. When I pulled away, his grip fisted my hair, wrenching my head back. His face closed in, hovering an inch from my face. He demanded, “Who is Zaal Kostava?”

I didn’t speak and he let my head drop.

“Who is Zaal Kostava?” the monster asked again. I closed my eyes, refusing to speak at all. Then I felt him standing in front of me. “Open your eyes!” he ordered harshly. I did as he asked. I caught sight of his hard body before me, his manhood mere inches from my face. I lost all fight.

The monster began palming his length, bringing himself closer to me with each stroke. When it was in line with my mouth, I fluttered my eyes to look up and almost sobbed at the determined expression on his face. His dilated eyes glittered in the dim light and he reached out to grip the back of my head.

“Please, Valentin,” I said loudly, trying to break through whatever had him in its control. “Fight it. Don’t do this to me. Don’t hurt me. You don’t want to hurt me anymore.”

His hand on his manhood stopped, and his head dropped to the side watching me. His darkened eyes studied me curiously. My heart beat faster. “Valentin?” I tried again. “Fight it. For me … Zoya.”

The monster’s entire body suddenly stilled and I thought I caught a flash of recognition in his stare. But he took a step forward, gripping my hair in his hands. Tears fell down my cheeks and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see his face as he took my mouth against my will.

Then, on an abrupt deafening roar, the monster threw my head back, his hands falling away.

Opening my eyes, I shook my head, trying to clear the water from my eyes, when I saw him stumbling back. My heart beat furiously as I watched him gripping his head. Pained groans and growls emanated from his lips; then his hands moved to his collar.

Hope soared within me as his fingers dipped below the slackening metal and he began to pull. The monster’s face reddened until his entire body shook at his attempt to free himself from his collar. But no sooner had he attempted to rip off the collar than he gripped his head again, the pain obvious as he hit the side of his skull with a balled fist.

He fell to the floor, and I waited expectantly to discover what he would do next. I prayed that when he eventually lifted his head I’d see bright blue eyes. But I wasn’t so fortunate. When the monster did raise his head, his pupils were still full and bleeding into the crystal blue irises. With fisted hands he pushed himself from the floor and approached.

I swallowed at the expression of pure hate on his face and cried out when his hand slipped and slammed on the rope above me. His hand then dropped to my stomach and made its way to between my legs.

“No,” I whispered.

The monster’s fingers ran along the top of my pubic hair and he hissed, “Name.”

It was strange, because even terrified, I noticed the difference between Valentin’s voice and the monster’s. The monster’s was colder, no feeling in its timbre. In contrast, in Valentin’s, his subtle notes would change, the tone expressing his change in mood, his feelings, his regret.

No sooner had those thoughts entered my mind than the monster pushed his fingers closer to my folds. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying whatever he would do next would be over quick. Then suddenly the monster’s hand stopped before he broached me. My eyes snapped open. I fought for breath as I panted through the fear. My attention was solely fixed on the monster, once again gripping his head, falling to the floor.

His body jerked. Pained groans wrenched from his throat. Sweat poured from his body. Just like before, his hands lifted to the collar around his neck. His hands pulled and pulled at the metal ring caging his neck, until every muscle in his arms shook with the effort.

He panted and panted, until his head lifted. Staring through me were crystal blue eyes. My heart pounded in relief, and managing to find my voice, I rasped, “Valentin.”

Valentin shook his head. Then his unfocused eyes fixed on mine. I saw him drink me in. I saw his face contort on seeing me tied up. I winced when I imagined how I looked, strung up this way.

A sudden gut-wrenching roar came from Valentin’s mouth and he jumped to his feet. He released his grip on the collar and walked to the chest at the side of the room. I held my breath, praying that the monster hadn’t regained control. When Valentin stood back up, he held a knife in his hand. My stomach fell as he approached, but when I saw his eyes were still crystal blue my heart jumped in relief.

Valentin winced with every step he took toward me. I could see blood forming beneath the metal collar. Fear took hold of me when I realized the skin underneath was torn.

“Valentin,” I whispered when he was just feet away. Valentin’s jaw tensed, and lifting his arm high, he sliced at the rope above me. I cried out as the rope holding me captive jerked my body, the pain blanching my skin. But Valentin kept hacking at the rope; he hacked until, with a final strike, he cut through the rope and I fell to the bed. Finding strength through a desperate need to be free from my restraints, I unraveled the rope from my chest and arms and bit my lips at the pain of blood refilling my muscles.