She tried to guess what a mile looked like here. Would it be to the dark shape of a tree in the distance? Or maybe past the barn they passed earlier. How many miles to a road with actual people on it? And if the sun set about an hour ago, did that make it close to nine? The later it got the more difficult it would be to find help.
“The closest road’s several miles away and you won’t find anyone driving it this time of night. You’d get lost before making it to the highway, so it’s best you stop fussing.”
Annalise’s feet stilled and Grace looked back. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”
She shrugged. “I’m just trying to save you the frustration and a few blisters.” She pivoted and kept walking. “Besides, he’d find you before you made it off the farm. He’s an excellent tracker.”
Great. Her stalker was an Amish bounty hunter with Jason Bourne tracking skills.
Grace pulled open the wooden latch door to the outhouse and set the lantern inside on a small table. The small space and tight walls captured the light, illuminated the little square house.
“It’s not what you’re used to.”
“Not quite.” Annalise stared at the latrine and dry sink. A pump protruded from the center of the floor. She’d gone back in time.
“I’ll give you a minute.”
The door closed, leaving her alone in the small outhouse, which measured four times the size of a modern one. No mirror, built-in wooden bench seat with two mysterious holes, a basin and pitcher, and a folded linen cloth.
“Great.”
Bunching up her skirts she managed to get through the surreal ordeal and find some tissue tucked in the corner. When she searched for a flusher that wasn’t there, the experience suddenly seemed comical and she laughed.
Once the first chirp of laughter escaped, a bigger, deeper chuckle followed. She just peed in a hole. There wasn’t a sink, but she found a crude shaped chunk of lard soap by the pitcher, so she used that to wash her hands. The soap smelled nice, like ginger and citrus.
She dried her hands and scanned the outhouse again. They actually used this—every day. She could never.
Grace knocked. “Finished?”
“Yes.”
She stepped into the small room carrying a stack of folded items. “I’ll hang your clothes for you.” Depositing the items on the dry sink, she removed a hanger from a wooden peg on the wall.
Annalise frowned. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
A flush rose to Grace’s cheeks. “Not to insult you, but you’ve traveled and slept in a barn. I assumed you’d want to wash.”
Well. There was no arguing with that. “If you’ll just show me how to use the pump—”
“Adam asked me to help you. You can undress.”
Glancing at the windowless wall, she considered their privacy. “I’d rather just do it my—” Something tingled at the back of her head and her words stopped.
Grace removed the straight pins from her apron and tsked. “You can tell a male helped with this. It’s clumsy work. He’s lucky you didn’t prick yourself.”
Annalise’s arms hung like limp noodles at her side as Grace lifted the cape blouse over her head and placed it beside the bonnet and apron on the dry sink.
“You have such pretty hair. Once it grows past the middle of your back it’ll be easier to style and tuck away. I can show you a few tricks with a string and some pins.”
Her glance shifted to Grace’s bonnet.
The girl gathered Annalise’s dress and lifted it over her head. “I’ve never cut my hair. Our Ordnung forbids it. That’s the Elder’s book of rules. But it’s not a bad rule. Once hair reaches your thighs it stops growing. Guck emol do. What in heaven’s name do you have on under here?”
Annalise glanced down at her pajamas, her last link to the life she had twenty-four hours ago. Grace made quick work of removing the top and bottom, stripping Annalise of the last stitch of her identity and leaving her shivering in the open room.
Keeping her eyes on her task, Grace dumped the pitcher down a hole and refilled it with fresh water. Why was she allowing this?
Her mind pushed forward, trying to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. And part of her accepted the ease of silence, savored it.
“I’m afraid this will be cold.”
Thank God for her forced silence, because if she had the power to scream, she would have released a blood curdling war cry as the frigid water dumped over her shoulders and down her back. She shivered violently as Grace made quick work of scrubbing her skin.
“Almost finished.”
Soaked to the bone, Annalise glared at her. Another pitcher dumped over her, rinsing her skin and soaking the floor where a small grate swallowed the overflow. Sweet mother of all that is holy, she was fucking freezing. Her breathing shifted to an aggravated pant as she wished with all her being that she could punch Grace.
“Sorry.” She laughed. “You won’t always be as easy to persuade. For now, it’s coming in handy. There. All finished.” She stepped back as Annalise’s frozen limbs shivered spastically in the cool air. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
She was going to kill her.
Grace rolled her eyes and wrapped the towel over Annalise’s shoulders, quickly buffing her arms and legs dry. She moved the lantern off the little stool and placed it on the dry sink.
“Sit please.”
Her body instantly obeyed. She fell into a catatonic stare as Grace brushed the tangles from her damp hair. Like Alice, she’d somehow fallen through the looking glass. She wasn’t herself here. Yet no one else seemed to find anything amiss.
The primitive fixtures and practical functions fascinated her but also terrified her. These things were outside of her wheelhouse, beyond what she knew and therefore impossible for her to dream.
This was real. All of it. Not just the foreign Amish culture, but also the bizarre way Grace knew what she was thinking and the drugging spell both she and Adam could put her under.
He claimed he hadn’t drugged her, and she didn’t believe him. But now, forced into this catatonic trance as his sister did something to her hair, she felt so far removed from reality she began to believe something else was happening here.
“You’re not dreaming,” Grace said softly, her fingers gently pulling as she braided her hair. “But your dreams brought you to Adam. They called to him, like a stirring that awoke his soul.”
She was definitely reading her thoughts.
The delicate weight of the braid laid against her spine and Grace rounded the stool, dropping to her knees in front of her. “I know you’re confused, Anna, but if you can’t trust Adam, trust that God has a plan. Let him lead you.”
Who? God or Adam? Both seemed undeserving of her trust.
Grace sighed, her head tipping to the side. “Do as Adam says, and he will keep you safe. But you must trust him. In the end, you’ll be stronger—possibly his equal. I’m not suggesting you surrender forever. Just for now. I know my brother. Once he has you, he’ll give you anything you ask. He just wants your loyalty and trust in return.”
The towel slid down her back to drape over the stool as Grace slipped a gossamer gown over her head. She pulled her to her feet and the thin material whispered to her ankles. Her nipples puckered, pressing against the gown and showing in the candlelight.
Grace smiled. “You truly are lovely. Adam’s very lucky.”
Grace led her back to the house, into the utilitarian bedroom they’d visited before. Anna’s motions were not her own, and the longer she remained under this puppet spell, the more she questioned her sanity.
A chest of drawers stood against the wall, holding another ceramic basin and pitcher. Her stomach pinched as her eyes reflexively searched for some sort of modern flaw to prove this was all a joke, but every piece of furniture and every hand stitched blanket proved otherwise.
No mirrors and only a simple chair in the corner. Her gaze shifted to the bed—large enough for two.
Grace, still holding the lantern from outside, placed it on the bedside table casting the room in a soft golden glow. A braided rug covered the worn floors, dating the home beyond Adam’s family. Did Jonas or Abilene’s parents live here before?
“Is this Adam’s room?” Startled by her own voice, her fingers rushed to her lips.
Grace glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “For now. He’ll be building a house soon, a place for the two of you, where you can have your privacy.”
What was the point in arguing that she wouldn’t be staying? No one listened to her anyway.
A timber box sat beside the lantern. Annalise lifted the lid and frowned. Tiny, wooden figurines hid inside.
Grace lifted a small wooden fox. “Adam’s very skilled with his hands.”
“He carved these?”
Grace nodded and replaced the figurine, shutting the box and taking Annalise’s hand. “Remember what I said? Let him lead you.”
“I can’t trust a man who did what he did.”
“Try. For every inch you give him, he will offer you a mile.”
She doubted that. Stuck in a primitive version of The Wizard of Oz, she only wanted to go home. She didn’t trust Adam, but part of her trusted Grace. Maybe her advice would be the magic ruby slippers to take her home.
For every inch you give him, he will give you a mile.
If that was true, Annalise needed to improve her acting skills. There had been a point when she liked him, a brief moment when they first met. But then he’d only been an intriguing customer at the bar. The more she learned the less appealing he became. His unarguable beauty did stretch that far, but there could never be any excuse for abducting her and holding her against her will.
It would take every ounce of determination to pretend she forgave him. And what if she messed up? Tonight, at dinner she glimpsed a firm, unbending side of him that promised Adam could be dangerous if pushed too far.
Perhaps she should be grateful he hadn’t done more than insist she follow him and dress like a cast member from Little House on the Prairie.
Grace pulled back the covers and gestured for Annalise to lie down. “My brother is a good man, Anna. He will prove he’s worthy of your heart, but you have to give him the chance. Right now, things are just… shrecklich.”
She glanced at the door and back to the bed where Grace waited. This was his room. Was she expected to share a bed with him? She’d never sneak out with him right next to her.
“You wouldn’t make it to the front door, I’m afraid. Adam has excellent hearing and old houses come with lots of creaks and moans.”
Her head lowered, her shoulders drooping in defeat. She slid into the bed, and Grace pulled the covers to her chest.
“Give him what he wants, Anna, and he’ll grant you any wish, even if it’s returning home. It’s that simple. You just have to help him before he can help you.”
“What does he want?”
She blushed and smiled, turning her gaze to the floor before meeting her stare again. “You, silly.”
A quick breath filled her lungs. “You mean…”
She nodded. “Most males are not so patient in similar situations. If you give yourself to him tonight, he’ll likely be more indulgent to your needs tomorrow.”
What was this? She was supposed to have sex with him? Was this what Amish human trafficking looked like?
“I can’t sleep with him after everything he’s done.”
Grace’s eyes turned serious. “Most males would not wait. They’re conditioned to take what they see as theirs. You are his, Anna. Make the right choice while you still have one. Eventually, patience won’t be an option.”
“What are you saying?”
She squeezed her hand. “Would it really be so bad to give yourself to him? You have to feel something for him. I think you’re being dishonest if you claim you hold no attraction for Adam.”
Her lips pursed and Grace smirked.
“See. I sense it. You find him attractive. Put aside your anger for one night.”
“Just because you think you know what I’m thinking doesn’t make it real. I despise your brother.”
Her smile only grew. “Of course.” She patted her hand and stood, collecting the lantern from the table. When she reached the door, she looked back. “I know my brother. I know his faults as well as I know his gifts. He’s a decent man with a good heart. If he accidently hurt you, it would break him. If he had the choice to hurt or heal someone, he’d heal them every time.”
She opened the door and stepped into the hall, taking the light with her. “Good night, Anna.”
Her heart raced to an unsteady beat. An open door could often be seen as an invitation. “Goodnight, Grace.”
The door pulled shut and the room darkened. Only a sliver of moonlight slipping past the plain curtain. Annalise waited only a minute before bolting out of bed.
Her bare feet hit cool floor and her heart pounded, stabbing into her ribs like a jackhammer. With trembling fingers, she opened the timber box and removed the slender knife inside.
Squeezing the small knife in her fist, she glanced at the window. Fear and adrenaline brought a shortness of breath. Lifting the simple cloth that covered the window she looked down. “Shit.”
The closest tree was still too far to help her escape. She pushed the window, glad to discover it opened easily. The door clicked behind her and she spun, putting her back to the window and holding the knife at her hip.
Chapter Nineteen
Adam stilled, his gaze dropping to the blade. “Are you planning on pricking me with that?”
Annalise’s breath hitched, her lungs working overtime to keep up with her pounding heart.
“Maybe.” She’d never overpower him. She wasn’t even sure if she had it in her to stab a person.
It was only a simple pocketknife. Chances were, if she got close enough to cut him, he’d grab her and take her only weapon.
He sighed and removed his hat, hanging it on one of the pegs on the wall. He didn’t appear too concerned that she was armed.
She swallowed as he shouldered off his suspenders, letting them droop at his hips. He didn’t wear a belt, but his pants had multiple buttons, two at the front and back where the leather loops of his suspenders hooked.
As the leather slipped through his hands, his gaze met hers. Silence stretched between them, him slowly undressing, her gripping her little knife.
He hung the suspenders on a wooden peg jutting from the wall and flicked a button at his hip. His pants barely clung to his hips as he stood there, presenting her with his back.
She sucked in a breath as he pulled his shirt off, exposing a herculean back, taut with thick muscles that bulged with every bend of his arms and shoulders. Golden skin, naturally tan, invited fingers to play. The air thickened, making it hard to swallow.
He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her unblinking stare. Ropes of sinew corded up his lean torso. His muscled shoulders and arms bunched effortlessly. He was gorgeous.
Her eyes narrowed. She hated him for being so physically flawless.
He approached the window, the front flap of his pants held in place by one tiny button. Her breath quickened as he held out a hand, his eyes gesturing to the knife.
Her grip tightened around the handle.
“Very well.” He reached behind her and she gasped, but he only adjusted the curtain, dropping it back in place and snuffing out the moonlight.
He lowered himself to the bed, stretching out beside her empty half. “Do not cut yourself, ainsicht.”
She scanned the shadows. Would he just fall asleep and leave her there? This might be easier than she expected.
“Come to bed.”
Her heart jumped into a gallop. She swallowed. No way she’d lie with him.
He rolled to his side, lifting his head to balance on his fist as he angled his weight to his elbow. “With the moonlight seeping through the crack I can see through your gown.”
&nb
sp; She skittered away from the silver stripe and he chuckled.
“So modest. Yet when we first met you wore less than you’re wearing now.”
“That was different. I was at work, not trapped in a dark room with you.”
“Yes, at work with thirty other men able to look their fill.”
“They don’t look at me like that.”
“Yes. They do.” He pulled back the covers. “Come.”
She thought of Grace, of her advice. Her eyes closed. She couldn’t do it.
But part of her wilted at that lie. She could do it. He was a gorgeous psychopath. So long as he didn’t hurt her, she could get through sex with him. The sad truth was she might even enjoy it. What kind of woman did that make her?
She glanced at the door. Or she could run.
“Annalise.”
Her head snapped to him, her gaze questioning. “What happens if I come to bed?”
“That depends on you.”
“On me?” She couldn’t catch her breath. Maybe if she tired him out…
“Please.” The gentle plea unraveled something, and she quickly tensed, forcing herself not to fall for any of his charm. He sighed and rolled to his back. “Fine.”
He folded his hands behind his head, soft tufts of hair showing under his arms as he stared at the ceiling. Life would be so much simpler if he were hideous.
Her legs were getting tired of standing. She inched toward the bed and a floorboard creaked, just as Grace had warned. With several creeping steps she crossed the floor until she stood at the bed. He never took his gaze off the ceiling.
The firm mattress allowed her the dignity of sitting without a sound. Taking long, unsteady breaths, she reclined next to him, clutching the knife in both hands to her chest. She stared at the ceiling.
His hair rasped as he turned to look at her. “Did Grace take good care of you?”
Memories of being tortured with frigid well water made her shiver. But, overall, his sister had been kind and generous with her advice, so she nodded.
Original Sin (The Order of Vampires Book 1) Page 16
