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He waited, still only inches from my face.
I steeled myself, opened my eyes, then rolled them at him.
What else could you do when your captor intimidated you to the point of panic but at the same time wanted your cooperation?
His eyes turned darker, a menacing stormy blue, like the wild Irish Sea.
Hell.
My father always told me my rebellious streak would be the death of me.
I didn’t think he meant my literal death.
But it just might.
He gripped my jaw and squeezed.
“You’re playing with fire, little one. Don’t test me, Stellina. Because you will get burned. And if you thought my uncle was cruel.” He looked down at my body; I could feel his eyes on my breasts, my stomach, my thighs as if he was touching me, then he looked back up and stared into my eyes as if he could see inside of me.
“You have no idea what cruel really looks like.”
His growl caused my skin to break out in goose bumps. When he caught me in the garden, I thought he hesitated, thought he might want to help me. But now I knew better.
Out of the frying pan into the fire.
I’d escaped my captivity, only to be caught again.
I’d been a slave. Been beaten and hurt. But all that only had an effect on my body.
With him, it wouldn’t be like that.
He still held my gaze, a cold fire burning in his eyes.
His presence was calm but dangerous, all-consuming.
If he wanted to destroy me, he would.
He would destroy me, body and soul.
“Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good.” Then he opened the knot on the back of my head. “Open.” He waited until I opened my mouth before he slipped the tie out of it, his eyes never leaving mine.
Then he got up, walked around me, and untied my hands and feet.
I yelped.
“Stay still; don’t move.”
He crossed the room and disappeared through a door. I tried to move, and the pain in my muscles hurt so bad, I couldn’t suppress my whimper.
In the blink of an eye, he was back—undressed except for his boxers—and lifted me into his arms.
Holy shit.
I only caught a glimpse, but I’d never seen a man built like him.
