With the smugness in his eyes way too obnoxious for a man with a bloodstained beard and my bladder’s screams finally answered, the stranger hands me a square patch of fur.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
His nostrils flare during his breathy grunt before he lowers his eyes to my vagina.
“No. Nuh-uh. Not happening.” I thrust the patch of fur back his way. “I’ll drip dry—” My words are replaced with a squeal when he snatches up the fur, wipes me from front to back like every little girl is taught, yanks my panties up my thighs, then tosses me back onto his shoulder.
“You know they have this great thing called toilet paper. You should look it up sometime.” Our return to the cabin is so quick, I’m dumped onto the bed before half his groan leaves his mouth, then he attempts to restrain me like I’m the criminal half of our duo. “You don’t need to tie me up. You have a gun and a predicted thirty-five inches of snow in your favor. What more do you need?”
I shouldn’t feel guilty when he thrusts his hand at his busted nose. However, I do.
It won’t stop me from another attempt to flee, though.
After ramming my palm into the orifice he highlighted, I sprint for the door.
I’m not planning to run through it.
I’m after his gun.
It doesn’t matter who you are in the world, no one wants to come face to face with a weapon capable of slicing you in two.
I’ve barely sprinted three steps away from the bed when the vine I didn’t realize the stranger fixed to my wrist is yanked. I fly backward with a high-pitch squeal before I’m reeled in like a prized catch in a fishing competition.
“You can’t keep me here!” I push out with a huff before folding my arms under my chest. “My fiancé will be looking for me, and when he finds me, you’ll—”
The stranger clamps his hand over my mouth, silencing more than just my lies.
ChapterEight
With a grunt, I move away from the object the stranger is jabbing into my back. I don’t care if it is a churro dipped in Nutella, I’m not playing his games anymore. Being paralyzed by fear is nothing to joke about. It’s a manic psychosis that could end my medical career if it ever got out, yet he used it against me like the words I were speaking could be more detrimental to my health than him.
We all know that’s a lie.
“No!” I snap out when he yanks on my shoulder.
He ignores my plea—as he has every grumbled comment the past several hours—by forcefully rolling me over until I’m staring at the ceiling instead of the wall. I’m still tied to the bed, but the length of the vine was shortened so no matter how hard I stretch, my hands won’t get close to any dangerous instruments in the kitchen.
Some of my sass takes a step back when the stranger places a bowl full of stew onto the bedside table then nudges his head to it. It smells delicious, and my stomach hasn’t quit growling the past three-plus hours, but I wasn’t lying when I said I’m no longer playing his games, so instead of eating the meal he prepared, I give him the stink eye to rival all stink eyes before rolling back over to face the only solid wall in the cabin.
“Ugh!” he grunts, clearly unimpressed by my denial. “Haw.” I feel his eyes on me for twenty long seconds before he adds hands into the mix.
“No!” I slap his hands off me before scampering up the bed as far as I can. “I don’t want your food. I want to go home.”
His eyes that suddenly appear more remorseful than dangerous, bounce between mine for two heart-thrashing seconds before he shakes his head while banging his chest with his fist. “Augh.”
When he twists away from me with balled-up fists, I think it’s the end of our confrontation.
I’m poorly mistaken.
In a quick twist, pull, and straddle maneuver, I’m yanked down the bed, my hips are cuddled by his thick thighs, and then my hands are pinned above my head by one of his highly nicked and scratched hands.
“What the hell are you doi—” With his free hand, he silences me for the second time today. Except this time, fear doesn’t shut me up. A chunk of meat does.
Even with it tasting delicious, I spit out the chunk of juicy goodness he stuffed into my mouth before peering up at him like I don’t fear him in the slightest.
He takes my barter and raises the stakes by straining a second piece of meat through my teeth, then clamping my mouth shut.
“Just because you put it into my mouth doesn’t mean I have to chew it,” I gabble out between a clenched jaw and closed lips.
