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Before the long winter is finished, before any road access to this mountain is cleared, he’s going to be six feet fucking under.
HER
He is holding me in his arms again. One hand on my mouth and the other one pressing me into his body. Fortunately, this time around the blanket is covering my nakedness, but it does not stop me from feeling his hard cock pressed against my ass.
Why? Why is he hard all the damn time? And why the hell is my body reacting to it?
I kick and shift and I fight to get out of his arms, but he’s too strong and my wiggling seems to go in his favor since I can feel his cock pulsing against my body.
That feeling is sending a current through me and I kick harder to get out of his strong grip, fighting with my own filthy mind more than I am fighting him. I’m terrified, because I know for a fact that no good can come from my terrible cravings. My recent captivity proved it.
He did not save me; I have just been captured all over again.
“Where are you going to go, little siren?” he whispers, and his warm breath tickles my ear. “All naked and bruised, damaged inside and out. Where are you going to go?”
Where am I going to go?
On this frozen mountain, among the pines, all alone. No one cares, there’s no one out there to look for me, no one missing me. Even if there was, he is right, I am damaged… no one would care either way.
He drops me to the floor and I go straight down on my knees, scrambling to gather the blanket around my body. I sit there waiting for the punishment that I am sure will come. I expect it now, after so long enduring it, my senses are on high alert.
But the violence never comes. All I feel are the vibrations of his footsteps on the wooden floor, walking away from me.
I turn my head and watch him go back to the kitchen.
He is making tea. What a perfectly mundane task.
Perfectly illusory.
He turns and does not even glance at me as he walks back to the sofa. Like he could not care less that I’m kneeling on the floor, like I am nothing… and I am… I am nothing. Adrien almost branded it on my skin.
I watch him as he sets the tea on the coffee table, and I can’t help but pause and observe the man that captured me. He is tall, so much taller than I and built like a damn brick shithouse. He has wide shoulders and a wide chest, I can see it even through the thick red checked shirt. The jeans he is wearing are hugging his nice ass and thick thighs, even if they are a loose fit. He looks like a man built by the fucking gods, like he could kill with one hand while drinking his tea with the other.
Perfectly illusory.
I don’t get the chance to check out his features before he sits on the sofa with his back to me. I’m not even sure I want to look, especially not in his eyes.
There is something about him, something dark that makes me shiver from the inside out. And I fear that if I look in his eyes, I might see it.
“Come, little siren. The tea is for you.”
His deep, raspy voice startles me. It vibrates low in his chest with an intensity that makes me wonder what I would feel if he shouted at me. Would I piss myself from fear? Would I run or would I sit here like a good girl? Would I challenge him for more?
What the fuck is wrong with me?! Have I learned nothing?
Finally, I get up and slowly walk to him, around the sofa, on the other side of the coffee table. I kneel, still covered in the blanket, in front of the fireplace, facing him. But I don’t dare to look up.
“Drink.” His tone is deeper now, commanding.
I’m scared to drink. Too many times before there was something in my drink, something to make me more... compliant.
“I said, drink!”
I jump at the commanding tone of his voice. I feel the vibrations go straight to my core and the command makes me scramble to the coffee table in an instant. Grabbing the mug of hot tea, I scurry back in front of the fireplace, before I take my first sip.
“Good girl.”
It’s disturbing, but I like the praise. I like how it makes me feel. There was no praise before, nothing at all, no matter how much I tried to comply. All I got in return was pain, so much pain.
