Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
I knew I couldn't stay in this bed, so I kept the blanket tight to my chest and stood. The weight of the gown brushed against my legs and made me want to rip the garment from my body.
I grabbed the fabric and tugged it, my anger growing. “Where are my clothes?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he offered, “They were wet and dirty. For your comfort, I changed you into something else.”
I clenched my jaw as my fear was pushed to the background and my anger took control. Or maybe this was still my fear twisting? “Where am I?”
“My home.” He moved over to the fire and stoked it, his back to me. He was larger than life, literally, with broad shoulders and the muscles flexing and clenching beneath the light material of his shirt.
“Your home?” I shook my head even though he wasn’t looking at me. “You can’t just—”
“I can.” His voice cut through my protest like a knife, slicing into me instantly. He turned to face me, only held still a second, and then was moving so swiftly I didn’t realize he was right in front of me until I felt his body heat and smelled the dark and intoxicating scent pouring off him.
“You were in my forest, Clara,” he continued, his tone softer now but no less commanding as he stared deep into my eyes.
His forest?
“Fate brought that moment to us. It was perfect timing. Kismet. So I took what was offered to me. And now… you’re here.”
The audacity of his words made my chest tighten, and my anger and fear were at war within me.
“This is kidnapping,” I said, my voice trembling and soft despite my attempt to sound strong.
“If it helps you to think of it that way,” he replied unbothered, his gaze moving over my face as if he was taking in every line and pore.
My head was tipped back so I could look up at him. The firelight cast his sharp features into a mix of shadows touched with intense golden hues.
God, I hated that he was impossibly handsome. Maybe I could hate him more if he was an ugly beast who’d taken me?
Because, truthfully, there was a cruelty in his beauty, and I hated that my body betrayed me by heating in all my intimate places, and softening, yearning for his touch.
“So what is it you want?” I whispered, clutching the edge of the blanket closer to my chest and up to my chin.
He didn’t answer, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in the dark depths of his eyes—something softer, gentler.
But it was gone so fast that I may have imagined it.
“What do I want from you?” He threw the question back at me. His smile was slow and deliberate and dark in all the ways that made my heart race and my body heat. Sweat dripped down my spine. “I want it all, Clara. I want everything.”
His words crashed down on me, and I realized that fighting, screaming, or even pleading with him wouldn’t help. There would be no compromising with him, no begging my way out of this.
I was his prisoner because he wanted every single part of me.
Tears I hadn’t known I’d been holding on to spilled down my cheeks, but I tipped my chin up in defiance. He tracked those tears and, like a cobra striking, cupped the side of my face. His touch was filled with a warmth I should have hated.
He leaned forward, and my lips parted. And when he dragged his tongue over my cheek, lapping up my tears of rage and sadness and something far darker, I closed my eyes and shivered.
When he pulled back, I forced myself to look at him. I was panting. I was…ready for him.
And as his gaze held mine, that primal part of me—the same part that had kept me rooted in place in the forest—whispered that this was exactly where I was meant to be.
I. Was. His.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IVAN
The following day
The fire burned low, embers breathing out a soft red glow that painted the stones. Yet, its warmth could not quiet the hunger coiling inside me, could not melt the icy chill that settled in my bones centuries ago.
A hunger… for her.
I claimed every spare moment in this room, unwilling to be away from her even when she turned her back to me. Since I brought her here, Clara had wrapped herself in silence, each unspoken word striking like a dagger against my chest. Yet I endured it because distance was worse. I would rather suffer her hatred than the emptiness of her absence.
She refused what I offered—food, drink, and comfort. Her defiance was a blade sharp enough to cut me. But her stubbornness was an old song I knew well, one I had once loved her for in another life. Centuries ago she had looked at me the same way, chin tilted in defiance, eyes daring me to bend before she would. And just as then, I knew she would give in eventually. She had to. Clara was not foolish; she would not destroy herself just to wound me.