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He placed his mug on a small table nearby and stood. The movement was fluid, panther-like. His broad shoulders filled out his shirt perfectly, muscles shifting under the fabric as he walked toward me. He looked . . . good. Disturbingly good.
No. I couldn’t think like that. This man was insane. A murderer. He was keeping me tied up here.
“I can’t have you running off now, can I?” he replied, a humorless smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Despite the insane circumstances, a perverse part of me fluttered at his words. It was twisted, it was wrong, but it was there. I was terrified, but I was also drawn to him. Something about his protective insanity was compelling, in a twisted, upside-down sort of way. But I had to remember what was at stake, even as my traitorous body responded to his nearness.
“I won’t run,” I lied, looking straight into his eyes, hoping he’d believe me.
His stare lingered on me for a moment, silence stretching between us like a taut rubber band. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through the compact space.
“Even if I were to believe that, Clover, I can’t risk it.” Declan’s voice was soft, almost tender, yet there was an undercurrent of a promise in it, something solid and unyielding.
I tugged at the ropes, the fibers digging into my skin, a sharp reminder of the reality of my situation. Fear slithered around my chest, squeezing it tight. I had to get out of here, I had to . . .
“Your horses are okay,” Declan’s voice interrupted my frenzied thoughts. He was watching me, eyes softer now, less manic. “I fed them. Gave them fresh water.”
My breath caught in my throat. He had taken care of my horses? A wave of relief washed over me, swiftly followed by a tide of confusion. What kind of deranged man was he? A murderer who made sure my horses were fed?
“And Avery?” My voice trembled as I spoke. Avery, my sweet little sister. What had happened to her? Would he hurt her? Was she worried about me?
“Avery is safe.” The words were gentle, soothing almost. “Hope you don’t mind, but I found your phone at the campsite and texted her. She thinks you’re staying the night with Laura. She doesn’t know anything.”
A part of me, a very small part, wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust those ocean eyes, the easy way he had talked about feeding my horses, how he said my sister’s name. But I couldn’t afford to trust him. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down.
“I want to see her,” I blurted out. “I want to see Avery.”
A smile, sad and fleeting, crossed his face. “I know, Wildflower. But not yet. I have some things to settle first.”
The hope that had sparked in my chest flickered out. I closed my eyes, pushing back the tears. I had to be strong. I had to fight. But oh, it was so hard when the enemy was this confusing . . . this alluring.
A strangled laugh bubbled from his lips. “You know, there’s something so . . . tempting about seeing you tied up like this.” Declan’s voice was low and gravelly. He leaned in closer, the scent of him—clean soap and something uniquely masculine—flooded my senses, making me lightheaded. “You’re so beautiful, Clover. Even more so now, with your spirit still defiant, still fighting.”
Defiance and dread warred within me, and I swallowed hard, holding his stare. I would not show him fear, not when he seemed to feed off it. But his next words sent a jolt of raw panic through me.
“It bothers me, you know,” he began, his thumb tracing the contour of my jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who’d just tied me up. “Thinking about the man who touched you. Can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”
He continued, his eyes never leaving mine. “I want to erase him, Clover. I want to erase the touch of any man who’s ever had his hands on you.”
Fear turned to ice in my veins. I tugged at my restraints, desperate to put distance between us, but the ropes held fast. His face was so close to mine I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes and could feel the warmth of his breath.
He withdrew slightly, reaching into his pocket. The sound of metal clicking open was deafening in the silence. My eyes dropped to the pocket knife he held in his hand, the sharp blade glinting ominously in the dim light.
“Declan,” I whispered, my voice shaky. I needed to keep him talking, keep him distracted. I didn’t know what he was planning, but I knew I had to stop him. Somehow, I had to get out of this. I just had to figure out how.
I held my breath as the blade descended, the cool metal a ghost of a touch against the skin of my arm. It was a delicate brush, dancing on the edge of danger. My pulse hammered in my chest, each beat a frantic plea for this madness to stop. But Declan was lost in his own world, his eyes dark and wild, focused intently on the path the blade was carving.
He moved lower, drawing the knife across the fabric covering my chest. I could feel the edge against me, skating over the soft curves with a precision that was horrifying. It was a promise, a threat, a chilling hint of what he could do, what he was capable of.
“All the men who’ve ever touched you . . . ,” he murmured, his voice a rumble that echoed in the confined space. “I’ll make them disappear, Clover. I’ll erase them. And you . . .” He paused, his stare flicking up to meet mine. “You’ll only know my touch.”
A chill swept over me, freezing me to the core. What did he mean? Did he want to hurt the people from my past? Or did he mean he would overwrite their memories with his own? Either way, it sounded like a threat, a promise of something dark and terrifying.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Clover,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “I want to take the pain away. I want to fill you . . . with me. Erase them all, until there’s only me.”
The words hung in the air, a chilling premonition of what was to come. I was torn between fear and a strange fascination, a twisted attraction toward the man that saved me. I was repulsed and captivated, petrified and fascinated. The man was a monster, a deranged murderer. And yet, part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to his protective madness, to the intensity in his gaze.
Even though terror gnawed at me, there was also this crazy buzz that hummed in response to his words. It felt wrong, warped, but it was there, clawing for attention.
