Hey all, sorry about the long wait. I caught the flu and that was a riot and a half that I'm trying to block from my memory. And then my friend came out to visit with me for a week, and while I love her dearly and enjoy spending time with her I still feel physically and emotionally drained, having to go a week with absolutely no me time and very little sleep tends to do that to a person. But fear not, I'm back now and I have a new chapter for all you lovely readers of mine. So please, enjoy the fruits of my dysfunctional mind!

-Etsuko


Myra woke up and knew with a sinking feeling exactly what was wrong, it shone in her mind in large, bold red letters. Period. Great, her body picked a great time to remind her that she was a female after all. The sudden realization that she was in Donovan's bed hit her like a sledge hammer. She scrambled out of the large bed and checked the sheets, God, that would have been embarrassing, and Donavan probably wouldn't have been to pleased. She quickly located the washroom-realizing, a few minutes later that his bathroom didn't have any of the supplies she needed. What kind of bathroom didn't even have a single tampon in it? A guy's bathroom. Myra bit her lip, how the hell was she supposed to get the things she needed? She doubted very much that he would allow her to go on a mini shopping trip.

Gathering up her courage and wincing at the pain in her abdomen Myra stalked back into the bedroom and cautiously poked the sleeping Donavan in the shoulder. Only to be rewarded with a grunt and nothing more. Mr. Spiffy was as far away from Myra he could possible get- such a sensible cat, really. Myra gave up on being nice and jabbed Donavan as hard as she could in the shoulder.

"Fuck!" Myra didn't even bother to comment on his language so early in the morning. After realizing who it was that woke him, Donavan found in necessary to glare icily at her.

"What?" Myra took a deep breath and told herself that she had no reason to feel embarrassed, especially around that guy that was holding her against her will.

"I've gained a new friend, and I don't have anything so uh-"

"What?" He stared at her like she had grown a new head and was talking in the unknown language of planet Floozelhoff.

Of course he didn't understand, how the hell was she supposed to explain it to a guy? The pain was making her temper rise to the surface so Myra eventually just snapped.

"Look pal, PMS tends to accompany a certain thing, and this being a guy's house I'm betting that you don't have any of the girl essentials ya? So maybe you can go get some." He stared at her for a minute. Another minute. Another minute. And finally, after what seemed like more than a lifetime a spark-albeit a small spark, of understanding lit his eyes.

"Oh, alright, if that's all you wanted why not just come out and say it, what's with the cryptic?" Myra just stared at him, he wanted her to tell him, the guy that should be featured on the cover of a teen girl's magazine, that she needed a tampon? Was he stark raving mad? He was she concluded, he was completely off his rocker, even worse, while she was slightly blushing Donavan looked like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Cool as a cucumber, Myra thought about her comparison of him to a cucumber once more and decided that she was hungry, that she in fact, wanted said cucumber, maybe it would even make her feel better- it wouldn't but she could pretend.

"Cucumber." He rose one perfectly tailored eyebrow-did he have to look like a god when he just woke up, whereas she looked like the definition of world war three? Yes, she decided, it was only fair that he add to her day of torture.

"What?" His question brought her back and she wondered how someone so gorgeous could be so utterly dim witted.

"A c-u-c-u-m-b-e-r, you know, it's a food. You eat it. I want one." He looked at her as if she were the one that was mad.

"What? Are you having pregnancy cravings or something?" Myra just stared at him, wondering if he even knew how utterly impossible his joke was. As in, period, as in equal no pregnancy, as in, no pregnancy cravings, as in, she just wanted a damn cucumber for no other reason that she was hungry and felt like it. Myra winced as the pain in her lower abdomen reminded her of why she was even talking to her captor, her good looking captor, but her captor none the less.

She stopped. She was thinking that he was good looking? Her, about her captor? Myra suddenly wondered if maybe she really was crazy. The cramps were killing her.

"And Advil." He just shook his head, maybe, just maybe she wouldn't have to explain that one.

"Why?" Then again, maybe she would. Myra didn't even bother to answer his question, it was so infuriating that men had no inkling about the way a female's body functioned, or about the pain. She just stared at him, hoping he would just hurry up and leave, the faster he left the faster he bought her stuff for her, and the faster she could at least pretend to feel the slightest bit better. Lie to yourself, always the first step. Apparently he got the hint because a few moment later Donavan was out the door with a warning for her to stay put. Yes, like she was really going anywhere. What was she supposed to do, climb the smooth, vertical wall of steel when she couldn't even not move without pain?

Three Advil and a whole cucumber later Myra was feeling much better, right as rain, peachy as a mouldy peach, as perfect as a dried tomato, as fresh as dead flowers. She felt like crap. Not that she would admit to it. Mr. Spiffy was, as usual, smarter than she gave him credit for, he was sitting on a low chair, across the room, eyeing her warily as though she might eat him. She wouldn't really, but she did tend to get rather irritable, what could she say? She was a girl after all. Donavan wasn't even in the room, after somehow managing to get everything she wanted in less than what seemed like ten minutes, had left and never returned. He hadn't even bothered to bring a cutting board and a knife for her cucumber, luckily she was able to wash it in the sink and hungry enough to not care about eating nice, thin little slices of the vegetable.

It was just her day Myra had decided later on. As if being a girl wasn't hard enough Donavan's bathroom had to hold something against her. Well, maybe not the entire bathroom, just the shower. Or, rather, the shower head. She had been taking a nice calming, relaxing shower, and had changed the setting on the shower head to massage. She needed it. Of course, her day just had to get better than it already was. The stupid thing had decided to get stuck somewhere between the massage setting and the normal spray. Only, then the water had gone everywhere but on her. Myra's shower ended earlier than she had intended.

Donavan came in a few hours after Myra's failed attempt at a shower, he looked rather worn out and didn't even acknowledge Myra, who was reading on the bed. Instead, he headed straight for his bathroom. Myra though of informing him about the shower, but decided that she could tell him when he came out. His scream that was more of a yelp and caused Myra to burst out laughing informed her that she was too late. He came out a few minutes later, clad in only his black pants and holding a dripping wet shirt with a towel around his neck. He looked far from pleased.

"What, may I ask Miss Lawson, was the point in ruining my shower head?" Myra tried to keep her eyes on his face and not on his chiselled abs and perfect upper body.

"I didn't mean to, it's not my fault if your shower head gets stuck." He may have replied to her comment but he never go the chance to do so, due to the loud knock on his door. There was the murmur of voices and then Donavan quickly shut his door, walking over to a large closet.

"Stay here, don't cause trouble." Myra wondered if his vocabulary had shortened drastically. And then he was gone, leaving Myra alone yet again.

It was dark when Donavan finally returned, and Myra had taken so many naps that day that she wasn't the least bit tired, although she was still in some pain. Donavan looked at her carefully and Myra felt as though she were on display, and oddly self-conscious.

"Come. We're going out." She stared at him for a few minutes, wondering if he was talking to her or Mr. Spiffy since he was speaking in Mr. Spiffy's direction and not hers.

"What?" Donavan turned to look at her, Myra suddenly felt extremely stupid, and all because of the man standing before her.

"We're going out, or did you want to stay locked up forever?" Plans of perfect escapes flew through her head like birds, her perfect chance to get away. He seemed to have picked up the ability to read her mind.

"Don't even try to escape, or I assure you, you will find it extremely hard to live in this world, as will every other person you've ever met. Besides, you wouldn't want to leave your cat behind now would you?" The plans stopped. How could she leave Mr. Spiffy behind? It was simple, she couldn't, and he knew it, it was his invisible collar on her, a cat.

It shouldn't have happened, she should have run away at the first sign. She should have fought back, screamed, kicked, something. But no, she hadn't she had been too comforted by the soothing lies, and now it was done. Myra couldn't stand it, it was like her worst nightmare had come up and effectively captured her in its embrace. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, hair done up, body clad in a tight red dress that revealed enough to make her self conscious, and enough make-up on her face to effectively smother ten people.

When Donavan had told her that he was taking her out of her room, and, out of the mansion Myra had been so elated that she had failed to recognize the imminent danger of fashion and hair stylists until she was tied -quite literally- to the chair with no hope of escaping. And then Donavan had whisked her away to some formal restaurant that just oozed wealth, and apparently Donavan went there quite a bit because the staff that worked their all nodded in acknowledgement to him and their waiter didn't even bat an eyelash when Donavan had ordered 'the usual' while Myra herself had been sputtering over the prices of everything that they served there, wondering what was so special about their coke that it would cost five dollars for a small glass, let alone why water cost four, unless one wanted to upgrade to mineral water, which jacked the price up to six dollars. Myra came to the conclusion that rich people were absolutely insane.


Okay, so I will admit, this one is mostly fluff -hopefully good fluff, but fluff all the same- but like I said, I'm drained, I need a few days to recharge and all that fun stuff. Okay, and now I would like to thank everybody that reviewed!

The Emerald Eyes- thank-you very much, I'm so glad you think so!

ice-cold-pepsi- well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, glad you like it!