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I was supposed to be angry with him, but it was impossible to get my heart and body on board with my mind. Logic was not in charge here. He had a hold on me I couldn’t shake. Our bond did far more than mark my skin. It wove us together with chains that were as much bindings as they were links. There was no escaping him.
Letting out a grumpy huff, I tried to get comfortable, settling in for a miserable day of forcing myself to sleep and preparing for round two. So far the score was Sunday zero, Caleb one. And the bastard had the home team advantage. I had to even the playing field. Learn more about my surroundings. I needed him to loosen the reins enough that I didn’t have to be tied down while he slept. These were key hours I should be using to my advantage. Which, of course, he knew—hence the bindings.
My first attempt at getting him on my side blew up in my face because he knew me too well. I’d been too sweet. I saw that now. Even when things were perfect between us, I was never that obedient. I needed to add a little more brat to the mix. In a word, I needed to be me.
Lesson learned.
After what felt like an eternity spent staring at the ceiling and plotting against him, I finally drifted off, dreaming of a time before all this, when Caleb was mine without betrayal and lies. I didn’t have to admit he’d always been lying to me while I was dreaming. Or that my other three mates had been just as ready to break my heart as he had.
Over the next several hours, I tossed and turned as much as my bindings would allow. Every time my eyes closed, I was assaulted by dreams of one or more of my men, and each time I woke again, my cheeks were wet with tears and my chest heavy with loss. I may as well have stayed awake for as much actual rest as I got.
Finally, I gave up all hope of real sleep, waking to the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the partially open door. I sat up, rubbing my face with my hands... myfreehands. I was unbound. Of course I was. Caleb was awake. He wasn’t worried about me killing him while he wasn’t vulnerable.
A heaviness in my bladder let me know I had other matters to take care of before investigating what sort of meal a vampire thought would be appropriate for his mortal hostage. A few minutes later, I made my way to the kitchen, bathroom needs met, teeth brushed, and hair handled—as best it could be without a real hairbrush anyway. That was as much my fault as Caleb’s. He’d left the bag I’d packed on the dresser for me, which meant I at least had fresh clothes to change into, but in all my preparation, it seemed I hadn’t thought to pack so much as a damn comb.
“Are you coming out, then? Or do I need to bring your meal to you?” Caleb called from the other room.
I hated that his voice still skated across my skin in the form of tingles. “I’m coming.”
Was I? I sure as shit hadn’t yesterday. The Irish prick.
Caleb looked up as I entered, his lips quirking when he noted my disgruntled expression. “Sleep well?”
“Fuck off. You know I didn’t.”
“Actually, I don’t, seeing as how I was fast asleep.”
I growled low in my throat as I moved closer, but my annoyance dissipated as I noted the rich beef stew and rustic vegetables bubbling on the stove while Caleb put together a salad. A round of bread sat cooling on a rack, clearly just pulled from the oven.
“Look at you, Master Chef. Is all this for me?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to eat it.”
“You can’t expect me to eat all of that.”
“It’ll keep. And you need a balanced diet. That’s one thing I can ensure.”
Suspicion took root as I glanced around the cabin. “How did you get all this fresh food anyway? There’s not a grocery store on this island, is there?”
“No, there’s not. I have my ways, sweetling.”
I cocked a brow and assessed him. “As in, you have some person in your thrall, at your beck and call like Dracula?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, my God, I was just kidding. Please tell me you don’t actually have some poor unfortunate soul stashed away like some kind of slave.”
His silence was damning.
“Well, I’m just learning all sorts of fun new things about you, Father Gallagher.”
“She’s being paid handsomely as well. And you’ll be grateful once you taste your supper. Without her weekly visits, you’d starve. I’d be right as rain, but you... Well, I’ve seen starvation first hand. I wouldn’t wish it on many.”
“That’s not how that expression goes. My worst enemy. Anyone. Notmany.”
“But I would wish it on my enemies.”
“Caleb!”
