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He shook his head. “I am a shifter, which you know. That means… I’m faster than you, stronger than you, can see better than you at night, and can follow your scent. If you try to run, Iwillhunt you down.”
Stella rolled her eyes, but internally, her stomach dropped. She knew all of that, to some extent, but in her current situation, it was more daunting of a hill to climb.
“We have a deal, Messer,” he reminded her firmly.
“Yes. Yes. Now, can you uncuff me? I’d rather not pee my pants like a toddler.”
Trick slipped the key in the hole and turned it, releasing the cuff from the bar, but not from her wrist. He hopped out of the back of the van and waited for her. She crawled that way and slid out. When she landed on her feet, she groaned at the ache she had in her hips and lower back.
Trick slammed the doors closed as she twisted and turned to stretch out the sore muscles. Staring at the tree-lined driveway, Stella considered making a run for it, but she knew it was useless. In that condition, she’d barely make it across the yard before her lower back told her to fuck off. With a sigh of resignation, she followed Trick into the cabin.
The table was bolted to the damn floor like she was in an interrogation room, but she wasn’t. It was a cabin in the woods, and the table was a part of a dinette set.
As soon as Stella stepped out of the restroom and took a seat in that chair, Trick secured the other end of the handcuffs to the table leg like she was an inmate at a maximum-security prison.
She spent the next thirty minutes glaring at the back of his bald head as he worked at the stove across the room.
“Ya know… glaring at me isn’t going to get me to let you loose,” he said with humor in his voice, without even turning to glance at her.How in the hell did he know she was glaring?As if he read her mind, he nodded toward the corner of the room. Up in the corner was a large round mirror, the kind you saw in smaller department stores so that the workers could watch you without being in the same aisle.
Stella tried to cross her arms over her chest, but her left hand was yanked back by the cuff. “Damn it!”
“The quicker I know I can trust you, the quicker you can have free range of movement,” he said in a cheery voice that grated on her god damn nerves.
“I hate you,” she said, slamming her bent elbow on the table and resting her chin in the palm of her free hand.
“Well… I guess that means we have a long way to go.”
Stella stewed in her anger and resentment as he finished cooking whatever it was that he was making. She didn’t even allow herself to enjoy the smell of the food. He didn’t deserve her appreciation, not even for his cooking skills.
When he slid the plate of spaghetti in front of her and handed her a fork, she wanted to stab him in the eye with it. When she looked up at him, he raised a brow and shook his head.
“What?”
The humor was still in his voice when he answered, “That won’t work out in your favor.”
“You don’t know what I was thinking.”
He took a seat across the table from her with his own plate. “You were contemplating how to use that fork to harm me. Did I mention we heal super-fast too? You would have to stab me in the eye anddeep, but I don’t know how you would reach my eye when I was standing a few feet from your right side, you’re handcuffed to the left side of the table, and you’re shorter than I am by a significant number of inches.” He shrugged and met her gaze. “Not to mention, you’re cuffed, so how would you run after you accomplished that impossible feat?”
Anger burned inside of her, his taunting making it worse, because he was correct, and she stabbed her fork in the noodles. As she twirled the fork and collected a bite, she bit out, “I hate you.”
“So, you’ve said.”
When she took the first bite of food, flavor exploded on her tongue in the best way, but she wouldn’t let herself enjoy it and glared at him. He didn’t deserve it.
He snorted a laugh. “You can pretend all you want. I know my spaghetti is kickass.”
“Fuck you,” she said through a mouthful of food.
He shrugged. “Hate sex can be fun. Maybe later.”
Stella decided she would ignore him for the rest of the night, and that was what she managed to do while she ate the rest of her food. She failed miserably when he started stripping in the one-room cabin and told her he was going to take a shower. Her eyes were drawn to the hard muscles of his chest and stomach covered in smooth, dark brown skin and tattoos. When he reached down and grabbed hold of the button of his jeans, Stella slammed her eyes shut and flipped him off with her free hand at the sound of his chuckle.
“You have two options.” He sounded closer, but she kept her eyes closed. “You can sit out here and be good, or you can join me. Pick your poison.”
“I’ll wait here,” she mumbled.
Even with her eyes closed, she could still see every ridge of muscle and every inch of skin. The image was seared into her brain. He was a good-looking man, but he also knew it, which only made him more irritating. She needed to remember that. She couldn’t become blinded by the visual. He was still her enemy, her captor, and she needed to find a way out of her situation.
