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Bedrooms are a definite no-go.
The last thing I want is to give her the wrong idea of what I plan to do to her while she’s vulnerable. I’m not a fucking psychopath. The kitchen has too many weapons in case she gets free and decides to stand up for herself. After seeing her run from the hunter in the forest, I wouldn’t put it past her to have capabilities for self-defense.
Not that I’m concerned about getting injured, I’d just hate to have to explain my way out of that one.
The living area and spare room, as well as the study are the remaining options. Having decided, I move into the space, using my free hand to snag some rope, then a chair. I set both on the ground, facing the door and gently lower her down my chest to the seat. Herbody leans into me as I get her settled, and I feel her inhale deeply against my neck and release a soft sigh.
I freeze.
Tilting my head, I glance at her face through her soft, silky strands of hair. Her eyes are still closed, and she doesn’t seem to be aware or awake yet so I take a nervous breath to center myself.
I’ll dose her again to keep her out for a few more hours. That will give me time to watch the perimeter and ensure we weren’t followed.
My heart pumps steadily in my chest as I pull away, letting the back of the seat support her unconscious body as I tie her hands and legs to the chair. Looking her over, it takes everything in me to stand before exiting the room.
Whatever the hunter from the forest wanted with her, it’s nothing good, but if she has any desire to survive I need to get answers.
Chapter 10
Lara
The first thing I notice as I come to is the nausea.
Next is the throbbing in my head as my chin tucks into my chest. As I slowly regain consciousness, I keep my eyes closed to gather my senses. I’m sitting in an upright position and can feel my hair falling forward around my face. Carefully pulling on each limb tells me that my wrists and ankles tied to the chair I’m seated on.
I peel my eyes open slowly, one at a time. They feel crusted closed, as if I’ve been sleeping for weeks. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my lips are cracked. Overall, it feels like I wandered the Sahara desert for days without water.
The room is not made of wood, or brick but instead looks to be built from stone. A soft red carpet covers the floor and the space appears clean but otherwise empty outside of a second seat by the door.
I lean back to ease my stiff muscles and freeze when the chair cracks, the echo breaking through the silence of the room.
Memories flutter by as I count the passing moments by force of habit.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Four...
The door knob turns and sweat beads down my temple and spine as my breath shortens. My anxiety and PTSD are in full effect as the entryway reveals a terrifyingly beautiful man.
A pair of mismatched eyes stare at me from beneath jet black hair tied up away from his face. One eye is bright and a vibrant forest green, the other is devoid of color in a white-blue hue. A long jagged scar runs from his eyebrow to his cheekbone with a smaller one parallel to it along the length of his temple, as if he were mauled by an animal.
His shirt does nothing to hide the layers of defined muscle beneath them as they tense and flex with his movements. The tattoos up his arms and along his neck are covered with various symbols as if written in a different language.
He looks like he could give a champion weightlifter a run for his money with the way his chest tapers down his abdomen to his jeans, which are form fitting enough that I can easily see he doesn’t skip leg day.
My cheeks burn as I realize I’ve been seriously checking out my captor, and my gaze flicks to his. He cocks his head and a tinge of amusement dances across his handsome face as he takes a step forward.
Dragging a chair from the other side of the room and flipping it around so the back faces me, he sits down. Crossing his muscular forearms onto the chair and leaning forward, he eyes me warily.
I peer down to see myself fully restrained, glancing back to him with wide eyes as the gravity of my situation settles into my chest.
Regardless of how attractive he is, I’m completely at his mercy.
My subconscious begins to connect dots irrationally as memories of my past flood through my mind and my breathing picks up.
