Evander slipped back into the solitude of his room, the door shutting behind him with a muted thud. His surroundings were lit by the soft, diffuse glow filtering in from the morning sun. It was the perfect ambiance, tranquil yet awake, matching his internal equilibrium.
He stripped off his street clothes, his muscles still radiating a mild thrum of the recent exertion. Each layer peeled away felt like casting off another piece of the façade he had to maintain outside his home. The fabric rustled in the quiet of the room as he exchanged the rugged exterior for his more comfortable workout gear. The soft fabric clung to his body, accentuating the form sculpted by countless nights of hunting.
As he was changing, he cast a brief glance into the minds space where his stats were displayed. The numbers had seen a substantial increase, courtesy of his night-time foray into the wilderness flanking the city's boundaries.
Strength: 2.95 Dexterity: 1.6 Stamina: 1.4 Intelligence: 2.2
Each stat had improved, now exceeding the norm. Not bad, Evander thought, a faint smile tracing his lips. The frequent hunting and fighting had paid off. He could almost feel the strength coiled beneath his skin, a palpable power that he commanded.
He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on the numbers. From now on, any additional experience he would earn would be funneled into developing a specific skill. It was a matter of choice, and he knew he'd need to make a wise one.
Evander was now ready to start his day. He stepped out into the crisp morning air, the scent of dew-tinted grass filling his nostrils. His muscles twitched in anticipation as he began his morning jog, the sound of his footfalls echoing in rhythm with the dawn chorus.
The safe zone in which Evander found himself was a lush sanctuary amidst the bustling metropolis, a slice of nature set aside within the confines of the city walls. In the morning glow, the park was a picturesque paradise filled with verdant trees and flowers, their colors more vibrant in the crystalline daylight.
The canopy of emerald leaves overhead swayed gently in the morning breeze, creating an ever-changing mosaic of sunlight and shadow on the jogging path. Birds, undeterred by the presence of humans, chirped their symphonies from the trees, their sweet melodies reverberating in the crisp morning air. The music was sporadically punctuated by the distant hum of city life, the murmuring reminder of the chaotic world that lay beyond the safe zone.
As Evander ran, he lost himself in the euphoria of the exercise. His heartbeat pounded in rhythm with the thud of his shoes hitting the pathway, a rhythmic symphony of exertion and resilience. His breaths, synchronized with his strides, echoed through the tranquil morning, his exhalations forming tiny clouds in the cool air. The rhythm of his run was therapeutic, a pulse that echoed his life’s cadences.
For this moment, I'm free, he thought, cherishing the reprieve the safe zone offered from the relentless hostility of the world outside. For a couple of hours, he kept up the run, intermixing it with spurts of calisthenics, relishing the burn in his muscles, the sweet strain of exertion that reminded him he was alive, thriving.
And then, without any forewarning, the tranquility was shattered.
A loud pop echoed through the air, jerking Evander out of his run. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw it - a ball of glaring white light hurtling towards him. Alarm bells rang in his mind, but before he could react, the orb slammed into him.
In an instant, his body stiffened, every muscle freezing as if cast in stone. He felt as if an invisible force held him in place, ensnared by an unseen hand. A cold dread seeped into his veins. It was magic, he realized, an immobilization spell binding him to the spot.
Desperation surged within him as he strained against the magical shackles, his mind screaming commands that his body couldn't obey. He felt as if he were trapped within himself, a prisoner in his own body. But his struggle was in vain, the magic too potent for him to break. As he stood there, frozen and helpless, he was acutely aware of one thing - he was not alone.
From behind the dappled veil of verdant foliage emerged several women, their apprehensive eyes scanning the scene with a chilling sense of purpose. At the forefront was Seraphina, a striking woman with auburn hair cascading down to her slender waist, catching the morning sun in its glossy tendrils. Her beauty was a vibrant flame in the tranquil morning, radiant yet unapproachable, an allure that masked a lethal intent.
Dressed in a tailored jumpsuit that accentuated her lithe figure, she moved with an undeniable grace that commanded attention. Her sharp gaze was focused solely on Evander, a predatory glint in her eyes that sent a jolt of apprehension down his frozen spine. The other women trailed behind her, their faces wearing matching masks of terror, their whispers echoing ominously in the silent morning. The ominous murmur of their hushed conversation was laced with fear and a desperate resolve that made Evander's heart pound in his immobile chest.
"We... we could get in trouble for this," one whispered, her eyes darting anxiously. "The consequences... they'd be severe."
Seraphina paused, her calm demeanor in sharp contrast to the fear gripping the other women. With a glance, she assuaged their concerns. "I've sorted that part out," she declared, her voice as cold as the frost of the early morning.
As she neared the paralyzed Evander, a smirk curled up on her lips, a perverse pleasure shimmering in her eyes. "Not so strong now, are you?" she taunted, her voice dripping with triumphant malice. From her pocket, she retrieved an object that looked like a wand, radiating with an arcane energy that chilled his blood.
As she touched the wand to his immobilized form, his world spiraled into a terrifying void. The park, the women, the city in the backdrop, all dissolved into an inky blackness. A sense of dread surged in his mind, a realization that he was vulnerable, too exposed to magic, without any defense against it.
Protection... I need protection against magic, he thought, the urgency of the thought echoing through his fading consciousness. The blackness clawed at the edges of his mind, dragging him down into its cold depths. His last coherent thought was a question, one that sent a shiver through his soul - was this mistake going to be his last?
--
The first sensation that registered in Evander's returning consciousness was the plush softness of the surface beneath him. His back sank into a luxurious couch, draped in rich velvets that cradled him gently, an ill-fitting throne for a captive. His eyes fluttered open, and he took in his surroundings. High, vaulted ceilings loomed over him, adorned with intricate plasterwork that suggested a grandeur only found in the lavish dwellings of the rich. An elaborate chandelier, glistening with crystal drops, cascaded from the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, comforting glow.
His eyes roved the room, observing the elegant furniture and the high-end decorations that hinted at the opulence of a grand mansion. The situation clashed with the narrative in his mind, he had expected a dank, dimly-lit room with shackles and chains, not this ostentatious display of wealth.
Why am I not bound and restrained? He wondered, his mind racing, even as his body refused to respond to his command. An eerie sensation held him in its grip - an absolute immobility that turned his body into a statue, paralyzed yet aware.
An elderly woman suddenly leaned into his field of vision. Wrinkles lined her face, etched deep by the passage of time, but her eyes held a warmth that belied her stern features. "He's coming around now," she announced, her voice carrying a note of relief.
Moving her attention to his arm, she scrutinized an armband encircling his bicep. It was an unusual contraption, pulsating with an ethereal glow, inscribed with arcane symbols that danced under the soft light. As it beeped intermittently, she traced the inscriptions with a furrowed brow, her lips moving in a silent chant.
From somewhere beyond his sightline, a voice floated towards him, unmistakably Seraphina's. Its icy tone sent a chill down his spine, making him yearn for the strength to move. "I was very careful. I stayed within the constraints the therapist had set," she asserted defensively.
His heart sank as the elderly woman's words registered in his paralyzed mind. "You're lucky, young woman. Damaging a man is in no one's interest," she muttered, a warning laced with reproach in her tone. Despite the comfort of his surroundings, he couldn't shake off the feeling of impending dread.
The air shifted, tension threading its way through the opulence of the room as Seraphina spoke. "Men sometimes get too uppity, too full of themselves," she stated, her voice echoing off the ornate ceilings. "And when they start associating with the wrong type of woman, they need to be taught a lesson." Her words hung in the air, a proud declaration that seemed to reverberate around the room.
Not going to be killed then, Evander thought with some relief, his gaze fixed on the chandelier above as he tried to roll his eyes. His body still refused to comply, but his mind raced, seeking a solution, a plan, anything to turn the tide.
The elderly woman, apparently a doctor from her authoritative demeanor and manner of speaking, shot a scathing look at Seraphina. "This...plan of yours and the therapist's, it's outside the bounds of the law," she chided, her tone heavy with reproach.
"Oh, come on," Seraphina countered with a dismissive wave of her hand, her voice brimming with vivacity. "Money," she emphasized, "is a powerful tool. It can make almost anything happen." Her words dripped with smug satisfaction, a testament to the belief in the power of wealth.
But the doctor was not so easily placated. "Your family," she cautioned, her voice dropping low and serious, "they will be ruined if this young man dies. You should remember that."
The conversation washed over Evander, filling him with a strange mix of dread and relief. Their fear of consequences is my advantage, he realized. If he could somehow twist this situation to his benefit, he could buy himself an escape route. But how? His mind churned, trying to find a way to exploit this newfound piece of information. Focus, think, strategize.
The elderly doctor began to collect her belongings, the rustle of her packing punctuating the silence that had settled in the room. With a pointed look, she sent a final warning in Seraphina's direction. "I must insist, the man is not to be harmed," she asserted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Don't worry," Seraphina reassured her, her voice smooth as honey. "I'm only planning to give him a good scare, that's all."
Evander let himself relax back into the plush cushions of the couch, the tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. They're all bluster and no bite, he thought, slowly gaining some measure of reassurance from their words. His captors appeared more interested in scare tactics than actual harm.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
After the doctor's departure, the room fell into a quiet hush. He could hear Seraphina's steady breathing nearby, her presence like an imposing shadow. Whispers of comments brushed his ears, vague mutterings about his looks, as though she were admiring a piece of art. He could almost picture her inspecting his features with an appreciative gaze, and despite the situation, he couldn't help the mental eye roll. Great, kidnapped by an infatuated fan, he thought with a tinge of annoyance.
Minutes passed, the ticking of a clock on the wall marking each one. Gradually, he felt a tingling sensation spread to his fingers and toes, a telltale sign of the paralysis wearing off. With immense effort, he tried to flex them, a faint twitch of movement he barely noticed himself. But to his side, the woman – Seraphina – stiffened, her keen gaze instantly catching the subtle signs of his growing mobility.
With a grace and poise that bespoke of her high social standing, Seraphina moved closer. A delicate hand, adorned with rings that caught the soft light, came to rest on his chest, their shared warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt. Leaning in, her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered in a honeyed voice, "Awake yet, darling?"
Evander fought the urge to snort, disdain simmering beneath his placid expression. He kept his silence, biting back retorts that might exacerbate his situation. His senses were slowly but surely returning, and with it, the sensation of her hand sliding down his chest, each inch igniting a sense of unease in his gut. The shallow breaths she took, as if relishing the moment, made him grit his teeth internally.
Stay calm, Evander. Play along for now. He urged himself silently, grasping onto his control as the paralysis waned.
Regaining her composure, she pulled her hand away from him as if the touch had been casual, not at all imbued with the predatory intent it held. Her face became serious, her tone shifting to one of condescension. "Sometimes," she began, her words measured and precise, "men need to be broken. They need to learn their place in society."
Seraphina continued to drone on, oblivious to the disinterest reflecting in Evander's gaze. "Sometimes, dear Evander," she cooed, "men need to be broken. They need to understand their place in society."
Evander remained silent, focusing on regaining control over his own body rather than the verbal onslaught she presented.
"And your place, my dear," she continued with an air of arrogance, "is not with the vermin outside the safe zone, but amongst us, the privileged and elite. To associate with the lesser kind is to taint your own worth."
Her words, like thorns, jabbed at his patience. What is it with these people and their obsession with status? he mused silently. With each passing second, his body began to respond more, every minute twitch a victory against the paralysis. As Seraphina carried on with her monologue, Evander honed his focus on the one thing he needed most at the moment: control.
After enduring a deluge of Seraphina's self-righteous speeches, Evander felt his tolerance threshold ebbing away. The last of his paralysis seemed to have dissipated, and the robust strength returning to his limbs acted as a stark contrast to his earlier immobility. The time for action was at hand, he thought, I can't stand listening to her anymore.
His muscles tightened in anticipation, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he waited for Seraphina to come close. When she moved within his reach, he pounced, grabbing her wrist in a swift, assured grip. She yelped, surprise flashing across her features as he manipulated her slender frame with ease, pressing her down onto the couch.
He straddled her, pinning her to the plush cushions, his gaze locked with hers. Her wide eyes mirrored the same fear he'd seen when he'd first challenged her. But then, as the seconds ticked by, her expression morphed. The fear dissolved, replaced with an emotion he found utterly bizarre in their current predicament - desire.
What on earth? His brows knitted in confusion as he watched the shift in her eyes, a twinge of disgust flickering through his gut. This world is genuinely messed up. The realisation hung heavy in his mind, a sense of wariness blooming as he gazed down at the oddly excited woman trapped beneath him.
The standoff lingered in the air like a potent, electrifying current. He remained perched atop Seraphina, her heartbeat racing beneath him, their gazes locked in an intense tableau. The silence stretched on until it was finally broken by her husky whisper.
Leaning in closer, her lips curled into an enticing smile as her tongue darted out, glossing them with a suggestive shimmer. "You're obviously attracted to me," she purred, her voice a seductive murmur. His eyes rolled with vexation, the blatant attempt at manipulation plain as day.
"Physically attracted, maybe," he retorted, his words stern and reeking of displeasure, "but I can't stand you otherwise." His blunt honesty was a stark contrast to her veiled allure.
Her brows arched, a flicker of surprise igniting in her gaze before it was replaced with a crafty smile. "I can work with that," she declared with an intriguing lilt, "Perhaps I've been approaching this all wrong. Let me show you what I can offer if you ally with me."
Her words hung in the air, an enticing promise that sparked curiosity in him, despite his better judgment. What could she possibly mean by that? A part of him, the one intrigued by the secrets this world held, was intrigued. He found himself drawn in by the offer, his desire to know overriding his aversion.
"How about a temporary truce? Let me show you the luxuries the elite enjoy... things you can't even imagine," her words dripped with allure. After a brief pause, he released his grip on her, reluctantly agreeing to her terms. "A truce, yes, but I'm free to leave afterward."
She offered a nod in agreement, a glint of triumphant satisfaction playing in her eyes as she made her promise. He couldn't help but feel a pinch of caution in the pit of his stomach, silently hoping that he hadn't walked into a well-laid trap.
Drawing back from her, he extended his hand to help her up. She took it with a bright smile, her resolve unscathed by their previous confrontation. She twirled on the spot, her arm outstretched to indicate the room around them. Her voice rang with a hint of triumph, sounding like a seasoned tour guide presenting the grandeur of her surroundings.
"This mansion, it belongs to my parents," she stated, an undercurrent of reverence coursing through her words as if the concept itself was a rare and priceless treasure. He gazed at her, perplexity knitting his brows together, his simple response, a slightly disoriented "Okay."
As if anticipating his confusion, she repeated, "Parents. My father and mother," emphasizing the words like she was teaching a toddler. He just gave a non-committal nod, the full weight of her words yet to hit him.
With a playful glint in her eyes, she reached out, her slender fingers tracing a feathery path down the bridge of his nose. A coy smile played on her lips as she said, "Oh Evander, you're more innocent than the therapist suggested. Or maybe, just maybe, you've managed to hide your wild side from her."
She paused for effect, her fingers now tracing the outlines of his chiseled jawline. Her touch was soft, a flitting butterfly that added a teasing edge to her words. "You see, in our society," she began, her voice taking on a solemn tone that belied the flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, "having both parents together is something of an oddity."
She leaned back, her hands clasping her heart in mock shock. "Oh, the horror! A happy family, living under one roof," she chuckled. The lightness of her tone belied the seriousness of her words, and Evander found himself drawn into her unusual way of explaining societal norms.
She reached up and gently tugged a strand of his hair, her playful nature giving way to a more thoughtful demeanor. "Men, as permanent partners, are pretty scarce, you know," she confessed, her tone teasing. "A committed relationship is almost a mythical concept. Marriage, as you know it, might as well belong in an old romantic novel."
Her words hung heavy in the air, contrasting sharply with her flirtatious demeanor. She sighed dramatically, resting her head against her palm. "So, most women opt for the scientific route. A little clinical, perhaps, but it serves the purpose. Artificial insemination is the norm, my dear Evander."
Despite her light-hearted demeanor and the flirtatiousness that tinged her words, a profound sense of melancholy echoed from her. Evander found himself sinking deeper into the rabbit hole of the societal dynamics she was painting. As he wrestled with the implications, he found her flirtation, strangely, a beacon that guided him through the alien concepts she introduced.
Seraphina's eyes settled on an ornate wall clock, the rhythmic tick-tock of the antique piece echoed around the room, harmonizing with the pulse of life within the mansion. "My parents," she said, her voice lighter, "should be having lunch around this time. Perhaps, we could join them."
Evander felt a hint of surprise etching into his features. The day had started with a morning run, swerved into a kidnapping scenario, and was now veering towards a family lunch in a mansion. He nodded his agreement, his curiosity piqued. Just another ordinary day in a parallel universe, he thought with a hint of dry amusement.
Her hand gently coaxed him from the lavishly adorned room towards the back of the mansion, her slender fingers wrapped around his arm. They strolled through an extensive hallway, its tall arches, and grandeur reminiscent of the Italian Renaissance period. Evander drank in the sight, his eyes flicking over the intricate murals, the terracotta-hued tiles, and the vintage sconces casting a warm, golden glow.
The hallway gave way to a grand vista of the outdoors. The garden was an exquisite canvas of verdant green, a sprawling sanctuary painted in the hues of the Italian countryside. Manicured lawns spread out like a velvet carpet, interspersed with stone pathways curving elegantly, guiding visitors to various nooks and crannies of the idyllic space.
Parterres of vibrant flowers bordered by low box hedges, burst into life under the radiant sun, their fragrant scent weaving into the gentle breeze. Imposing marble statues stood sentinel among the vibrant foliage, their chiseled features a silent testament to the timeless appeal of the Renaissance period.
At the heart of this botanical paradise, under a wrought-iron gazebo draped in flowering vines, sat two individuals at an ornate stone table. A lavish spread of dishes was arrayed before them, glistening under the sunlight that seeped through the vine-wrapped canopy. The sound of cutlery against fine china and soft laughter floated through the air, a domestic symphony that added to the surrealness of the situation.
The garden scene was a beautiful contradiction of wildness and control, a perfect mirror of the society that Evander found himself abruptly thrust into. The comparison wasn't lost on him, and he couldn't help but marvel at the paradox he was now a part of.
As they approached the gazebo, Evander's eyes narrowed on the man and woman nestled amidst the luxurious garden setting. They appeared to be engrossed in their repast, their voices harmonizing in a soft symphony that echoed the tranquillity of the place. The woman was an older version of Seraphina, with the same striking features, though etched with time's delicate touch. As for the man, he seemed to have sipped from the fountain of youth, his aura teeming with energy and vitality.
Seraphina detached herself from Evander, her steps quickening as she dashed towards the man, her face glowing with an affection that left no room for doubt – this was her father. The man, rising from his seat, swept her into a warm embrace. Evander could see the close bond they shared, the intimacy wrapped around them like a warm cocoon. It was a stark contrast to the image of a 'kidnapper's family' he had unconsciously envisioned.
Her father's gaze then fell upon Evander, his smile widening as he motioned for him to come forward. "And who do we have here?" he asked, his voice brimming with genuine interest.
"Evander," Seraphina supplied, still wrapped in her father's embrace. "The one from the fight yesterday," she added, as if he were an old acquaintance.
The man strode towards Evander, his hand extended in a friendly gesture. The grip was firm as he shook hands, the friendly smile never leaving his face.
Evander, taken aback by the surrealness of the situation, blurted out, "Do you realize that your daughter kidnapped me?" His voice held a mixture of confusion and disbelief, the absurdity of the scenario becoming more evident with each passing second.
Silence blanketed the garden, the tick-tock of the clock from the mansion somehow carrying all the way to this lush paradise. But the parents did not exhibit shock, surprise or even regret. It was as if they had been told that their daughter had brought home an unusual pet, rather than a kidnapped person.
"You're safe now though, right?" the mother finally broke the silence, her tone almost conversational. Evander nodded, bewildered. "Well," she continued, a smile blooming on her lips, "You're, of course, free to go at any time."
A wave of surprise washed over Evander as he found himself nodding, accepting their casual invitation to join them for lunch. The tantalizing sight of fresh, aromatic food played with his senses, awakening an insistent hunger he hadn't realized was gnawing at him. He had learned the hard way that it was crucial to seize the moment when good food presented itself. He flashed them a smile, one that felt almost alien on his face given the circumstances, and announced his gratefulness for their offer.
As though summoned by his words, a group of uniform-clad women emerged from the house. They moved with practiced grace, their presence a seamless part of the lush, lavish backdrop of the estate. Each of their steps echoed the rhythm of some unseen maestro, turning the mundane act of setting plates into an orchestrated performance.
In no time, a place was set for him and Seraphina. The glinting silverware, the crisp white linen, the ornate china - every detail was an affirmation of the opulence surrounding him. Soon, he found himself nestled between Seraphina and her father, the tapestry of the afternoon now boasting the rich hue of the unexpected.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind as he glanced at the bounty spread before him, then at the family welcoming him with open arms. How strange it was, he mused, that a man like him, who spent his life fighting to survive, was sitting amidst such luxury, dining with his supposed captors.