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“I figured as much,” Vasili scoffed, his tone telling her it was high time she remained quiet. She didn’t want to. She wanted to talk and talk until his head caved in from the incessant sound of her voice. Or until the lilt of it was stuck in his head in a loop that would slowly drive him insane. He deserved to be tortured out of his power hunger, his greed, his selfishness.
“Nik has the coordinates. We’ll meet. They’ll bring us to the non-disclosed delivery location. Makes sense. And it’s smart too. Not to trust me.”
She glared at him, knowing exactly how smart it was.
“I suppose we’d better shack the two of you up for the night,” Vasili said, nodding to Nikolai, who could barely suppress a smirk as his eyes met hers.
At the sight of it, she felt herself grow rigid with the promise he was making her. She wasn’t getting much sleep tonight if he had any say in it. Had he listened at the door? Had he heard the noises Zeke had pulled out of her? The alarm was making her entire body grow hot, and she reached for Zeke’s hand.
“I want to share a room with my mate,” she spoke up, eyes on Vasili’s, a plea there.
Vasili observed her for a long moment.
“I suppose I’m not one to deny young lovers their due,” Vasili finally said, waving them away with his hand.
He was finished with them.
For now.
The relief was like a waterfall cascading down her ribs, her hold on Zeke’s hand hard enough to make him look at her. She didn’t care. All she cared about was being safe in his presence in a bed shared with him, no one else.
It wasn’t entirely because she was fearful for her own safety.
There was a small part of her that was also worried about what the outcome would be if Nikolai tried anything. That small part of her was all dragon fire and payback, impatiently waiting for its moment to strike him down.
***
The guest bedroom they were brought to was smaller than the one they’d occupied such a short while ago, but it wasn’t lacking in comforts. The bed was a plainer double bed, a headboard dressed in silver brocade. The wallpaper was made of the finest grey silk, the carpet made of thick, grey sheep’s wool. The only color in the room came from a dark purple chair by the window, picked up in the collection of orchids that took up shelves along the wall opposite the bed. Soft lighting created an inviting atmosphere.
For a prison cell, it wasn’t all that bad.
Anna reached back, pressing her fingers into the spot on her neck. She’d contemplated trying to get the thing out, find a knife, pry her skin open. But what use was it? The possibility that her interfering with it would send a signal to Vasili was too great. She’d come to the conclusion that she would have to accept the trap she’d been turned into and bide her time until the morning when the trap she herself had set would hopefully free her of the threat for good.
She was trying to keep her mind off the fact that she was finally sharing a bedroom with Zeke for a whole night.
How she had fantasized about this moment when she was an innocent teenager, barely having a framework for how a night like this would work. All she’d had were wishes of what might happen, and of what it would mean to the both of them. He’d be strong, her fourteen-year-old brain had determined. But gentle. And respectful. That had been a big thing. She wanted a man who saw her, acknowledged her, heard her. Someone who was the opposite of her father.
Zeke was all those things and so much more.
She’d stopped by the heavy curtains pulled in front of what she was assumed to be windows, but when she opened them to look outside, she realized they were in a windowless room. Behind the curtains were alcoves, their plaster walls smooth and white. She huffed a soft laugh. Prison it was.
“Do you think they’re listening?” Zeke asked.
“Oh, yeah,” she nodded, turning to him.
He was standing on the soft, soft rug. The bed to his right, the splash of color to his lift. For some reason, he looked alone in the almost bare room. As though he was waiting for her to join him, not content until she did.
So, she did.
She crossed the space between them, stopping so close that their toes nearly touched.
She wanted him to trail his fingertips up her bare arm, slide the dress strap off her shoulder, place a kiss on the spot. She wanted to slip her hands under his shirt, up his chest, through the curly hair covering it.
When he didn’t move, she did.
Her hand traced the hem of his shirt, a small smile on as she lived out the fantasy her mind, a moment earlier, had created. Her fingertips dragged across the taut skin of his stomach, over the ripples made by the muscles there. She bit down on her lower lip as her body began responding to the feel of him, her hands flattening to slide her palms up to his pecks. His nipples were hardened with mounting desire. It made the ache in her grow into a dull thud between her legs, knowing she was doing this to him.
She slipped her hands back down again, to the button of his pants, undoing it slowly. She couldn’t keep the smile down at his intense focus, eyes on hers. He didn’t smile, his arousal drawn all over his face. Her smile lingered as she slipped her tongue over her lips, getting at the zipper and pulling it down.
