“Good. Did she plait your hair?” His hand closed over her braid, lifting it off her shoulder.
She couldn’t breathe. He touched her as if he’d touched her for years, as if he had every right to.
His fingers crested her shoulder, tracing over the thin fabric and sending chills dancing across her skin. Her nipples pebbled and although darkness cloaked her, she sensed he knew the effect he had.
His palm flattened on her chest, not touching her breasts, but gauging her heartbeat. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her jagged breathing serrated the silence, smooth then jutting, no matter how much she willed herself to calm down. He kept his hand pressed to her chest, his bright eyes studying her in the dark.
Her vision adjusted to the shadows, but her focus never turned to him. She counted the cracks in the plaster walls, the pegs by the door, the beats of her heart. She kept counting until her heart slowed and her shallow breaths gave way to quenching ones.
“Brave meid. Good girl.” He shifted closer, his warmth seeping into her skin as he crowded her under the covers.
Warm lips pressed to her shoulder and she stiffened. “Relax, ainsicht. Close your eyes and feel. I will not hurt you.”
The unmistakable press of his arousal at her hip punctured her tenuous trust. If she told him to stop, would he? How far did his promise not to hurt her go?
Gentle fingers gathered the material of her gown unveiling her legs beneath the covers and awakening something inside of her, something she didn’t want to face. He left the soft material bunched at her belly, moving his hand upward, but leaving her very aware of her exposed lower half.
Her hands gripped the handle of the knife so tight they shook. He closed his fingers around hers, marking the difference in their hand size.
“Lower your arms.” When she didn’t move, he said, “Anna, will you let go of the knife?”
Jaw locked, she finally looked at him. “Only when it’s embedded in you.”
He sighed, releasing her hands and rolling to his back. “Stubborn English woman.”
She scowled at him through the shadows. “Excuse me?”
“You’re difficult.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have failed Captive 101.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
She frowned and laughed at his inability to read her sarcasm. “It’s a class they teach at Hostage University.”
He met her stare and frowned. “You’re mocking me.”
“You captured me. You can’t expect me to simply give up.”
“I don’t mind a little fight. I’m not asking you to give up, just give in.”
She scoffed. “Never.”
“Never is a very long time.”
“Not when your future’s uncertain. My forever might only last until you get tired of me. What happens then, stalker?” She shouldn’t bait him, but she couldn’t resist.
“Do not push me, Annalise. You won’t like it when I push back.”
Her fingers tightened around the knife. “So long as you understand you’ll never have me without a fight. As long as I’m trapped in this miserable place I plan to make—Ah!” He was suddenly on top of her.
“Take your aim.”
His body covered her from foot to shoulder. Her arms were pinned, the blade of the knife wedged against the muscle of his chest.
“You’re crushing me.”
“No, I’m not. Relax and you’ll find you have plenty of room.”
She couldn’t relax. Nor could she stab him. Despite her empty threats, the thought of driving a knife into someone’s flesh left her woozy and weak. But if she just pushed another inch she could puncture his skin, possibly nick an artery.
“I hate you,” she wheezed.
“Then run me through. You and I both know you won’t.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“As if you’d listen either way.”
She gave the knife the slightest nudge, only pressing it more firmly against his skin.
He arched a brow. “Do your worst.”
The challenge sapped her conviction, leaving her empty and hopeless. She couldn’t hold his stare. Her gaze lowered until her eyes practically closed with shame and he rolled off of her.
When he reached for the knife, she let go. “Your resentment wounds me more than any blade could.”
A tear trickled from her eye and the tension fled her body. He won. She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t even threaten him. Every detail of this situation put her at a disadvantage. She would never get out of here unless he allowed her to leave.
It was then she understood that Grace had told her the truth. Let him lead you.
She needed to surrender, put aside her indignation and force of will and accept that this was her reality and the only way to escape it would be through letting go. She pictured a strong undertow, pulling her where she didn’t want to go. She fought as long as she could, but the tide wanted her to go a different way, and it would always be stronger than her. If she just let go, she could stop exhausting herself with a losing battle. She could float and regain her strength and perhaps find a way out.
After several minutes, her mind resigned to her decision and the tense anger she’d carried dissipated. Perhaps there was some truth to what he believed, and he really did need her for something. What if he was really her ally?
“If I stop fighting you, will you eventually let me go home?”
He let out a long breath and hesitated. “If you give me a few days, try to trust me, I will take you back to your apartment. I’ll let you decide.”
She frowned. “Decide what?”
“If it still feels like home. If that’s truly where you wish to be, I’ll not force you to return.”
“Swear it.”
His gaze found hers through the shadows. “I swear my life on it.”
She chewed on her lower lip. The solution stared her in the face, but that last step wasn’t one she could undo. She forced the words out before she overthought her decision.
“Fine. You win. I’ll go along with this so long as you keep your promise not to hurt me and take me home in a few days. Days. Not a week.”
“You have my word.”
She should get it in writing, but in a land beyond the law that probably wouldn’t matter. She literally had to trust him, and she hated it. All the anger she felt for him transferred to her.
She blew out a breath, the uncertainty and suspense ripping her insides to sheds. “Well, go on.”
“Go on?”
“Do it. Get it over with.”
“Get it over with?”
She huffed. “Isn’t that what you wanted, me to act like some obedient puppet?”
He scowled. “No.”
She gaped at him. “Then what? I’m trying here, but you aren’t telling me what you want. How am I supposed to do the right thing if you don’t—”
His hand closed over her mouth and she silenced. “First, stop trying to take the lead. It’s my duty to guide you. Especially here, in the privacy of our bed. Second, this is not something I intend to rush. I’ve waited my entire life—”
“Stop.” She shook her head, nudging his arm away. “Hold the phone. You’ve waited your entire life? I thought we were being honest with each other.”
He frowned. “I am being honest. I’ve never shared my bed with another female.”
He was lying. She just promised to trust him, and he was lying right to her face. “But you’re thirty-seven.” Another detail she found hard to believe.
“Yes. Is it so unheard of that a man might save his virtue?”
“Uh, for thirty-seven years? Yeah. Unless you’re Steve Carell, that’s pretty unheard of.”
“I do not know this Steve. And in our culture, it’s not uncommon. Thirty-seven years is not an excessive amount of time.”
“In what universe. You realize I’m not a virgin.”
His jaw noticeably hardened as his eyes narrowed. “I did
not realize that.”
Maybe this would be her opening. She tsked. “Yeah. Tarnished goods. But if you took me back I could help you find a nice shiny virgin who hasn’t felt another man inside her.”
His hand tightened around hers and he growled. “Do not goad me, Annalise.”
Something in his eyes told her this wasn’t a smart angle, so she did a quick about face in the conversation. “So you’re a virgin. Does that include sheep?” She winced. What the hell was wrong with her?
He released her hand, practically flinging it to her hip. “Good night.” He rolled to his side, his muscled back forming a wall between them.
That was it?
She gaped at him, tempted to keep talking, but worried where further conversation might lead. Adjusting the covers, she tried to get comfortable.
Hot then cold. Now, wide awake. She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a loud, obnoxious huff.
“Go to sleep, Anna.”
Yeah, she wanted to sleep, now that she promised to stay. But she fidgeted, unable to find a comfortable position. Her body was strangely alert and jumpy.
She scowled at his back. He’d been the one to wring a promise out of her. What about all the stuff Grace said?
She scoffed. Amish men were no different from the men at home. They only wanted what they couldn’t have. The moment it became available, they lost interest. Irritated, she flung the covers off her chest.
“Stop fidgeting.”
“I can’t sleep,” she snapped. “Your bed sucks.”
“The bed is fine. And watch your language.”
She rolled her eyes, kicking out her legs and scooting lower.
“Annalise, every time you shift the covers your arousal is all I smell. If you want any sleep at all, I suggest you stop moving.”
She stilled, her eyes wide in the dark. “Excuse me.”
“You’re an absolute contradiction, woman. Your mouth says one thing and your body says the opposite.”
“I am not aroused.”
“Let us not have lies between us. Not about this.”
She scoffed. “Adam, I am not turned on right now.”
He turned to face her, surprising her with a scathing glare. “You question my virility, mock my virginity, and now you dare to poison this bed with lies? Look me in the eye and deny it, Annalise. I can smell it. Your thighs are as wet as my cock is hard. At least have the dignity to speak the truth.”
Shaken by his accurate assumption, her fingers itched to wipe away the evidence of her arousal, wondering how anyone could be that attuned to another person’s body. It might only be the result of lying next to a man who wanted to touch her earlier. Or maybe because he had, briefly.
She wanted him to be wrong, but everything he said was true. She was aroused to a degree that she couldn’t sleep and she had no idea why, but lacked the dignity to admit the truth.
She didn’t want to be attracted to him. Her mind repeated the wish until it slipped out on a whisper. “I’m not attracted to you.”
“Does that lie bring you comfort?”
“It’s not a lie.” Yes, it was. And part of her wanted to prove it. Some insane part of her wanted him to spread her legs and touch her there, force her, so she could throw away any accountability and blame him for everything.
But he wasn’t to blame. He wasn’t even touching her. He hadn’t put a hand on her since she made it clear his touch wasn’t welcome.
Tense and disappointed in herself, she tried to smother her body’s response with shame. It didn’t work.
“I wasn’t thinking about you anyway,” she snapped.
His eyes opened and she stilled as if they pinned her in place with the strength of a hundred men. “Careful.”
She couldn’t look away. Adrenaline pushed an icy chill through her veins.
“I can sense your lies as easily as I can taste your desires. Your sex is weeping. Your pulse is accelerated. Your eyes are dilated. And you’re playing a very dangerous game, ainsicht.” He glanced at her chest which might as well be exposed for how much her nipples showed through the worn fabric. “That will be the last time you imply anything about other men while lying in my bed.”
He didn’t raise his voice and she almost trusted his promise not to hurt her, but something terrifying hid in his eyes. “Or what?”
Something shifted between them as she called what she hoped was a bluff. His nostrils flared and he rolled to his back. “If there’s not honesty between us, we have nothing. You may leave.”
Chapter Twenty
Annalise balked. “What? All this and you’re suddenly going to let me just walk out the door?” What the fuck was going on? “This has to be a dream.”
“It feels more like a nightmare,” he said, in a voice so defeated she stilled, one foot already on the ground.
She glanced over her shoulder. His hands folded across his broad chest, fingers entwined as he stared at the ceiling. His jaw ticked with tension and his brow furrowed.
It wasn’t fair for him to make her feel guilty when he was the one who brought her here against her will. Was this how Stockholm syndrome started?
She forced her other foot to the ground, but found it impossible to stand. Damn it. What was wrong with her? This was her chance. Her freedom.
Move your ass, Anna!
She looked back at him again and an inexplicable ache formed in her chest. No! She would not take pity on him. She was not that girl!
She swallowed against a lump in her throat and stood. He wouldn’t look at her.
She glanced at the door. Should she just go? How far would she get? Her fingers brushed the knob and she hesitated.
The pitch-black sky would make it impossible to see. Without her phone, she had no clue which direction was home. Back roads would form a labyrinth and she didn’t have shoes or clothes.
She was making excuses.
This was what she wanted. She’d finally worn him down. So what the hell was this wretched ache in her chest anchoring her to this unending nightmare?
“Adam?”
When he didn’t answer, she approached the bed. Looking down, she read the stricken expression that tightened the skin around his eyes and mouth. She shouldn’t care. He kidnapped her.
But when his gaze turned to her she sucked in a breath, suffering his sadness as if it were her own. In an almost spiritual jolt, she took a clipped step back.
The sensation wouldn’t break. It knifed through her. Hopeless surrender. Defeated optimism. Grieving faith.
She’d only felt something similar to it once before in her life. It had been a pain so acute and damaging, so irreversibly sad she had no idea how she’d ever survive it. That had been the day her mother died.
It made absolutely no sense why she’d feel something similar now. But these weren’t her feelings. They were his. As if a valve had turned, they flowed into her, battering her insides and triggering an excruciating wave of empathy.
Her hand pressed to her chest. “I … feel your pain. How is that possible?”
He shut his eyes and the connection severed. She wobbled back a step and caught her breath.
“What was that?”
“A slip. I apologize. My faculties aren’t what they usually are.”
She frowned, not understanding his meaning. “But I felt you. How could you feel so much when we don’t even know each other?”
“You haven’t been listening, Anna. Our souls were made as one, divided and lost until now. I’ve been trying to explain it to you, but you’ve been too angry to listen.”
She frowned. “But you haven’t explained anything. No one has. Everyone just keeps telling me to trust you.”
“And so you should,” he snapped, eyes hard. His brow softened. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to lose my temper, but I never expected this amount of complication. I did everything I was told, but even when you hand over the reins I feel you fighting me. You have the nature of an unbroken mare.”
She scrun
ched her face. “I could do without the comparison to farm animals.”
“Do you see? Even now, you make jokes.”
“Adam, I make jokes so I don’t cry. Believe me, nothing about this is funny.”
He exhaled and scrubbed his face with his palms. “I’m running out of time.”
“Time for what?”
He looked up at her and the sharp sorrow was back, stealing her breath. She had no power here, yet he suddenly seemed the fragile one.
“Adam, tell me what you’re hiding. You want my honesty? Earn it. Be honest with me first.”
“I’m dying.”
His words pierced whatever fantasy protected her and her entire existence jerked with sharp awareness. As if an umbrella had been sheltering her all this time, she was suddenly doused with truth. And without knowing why, she felt a strange tie to his mortality, as if responsible for his life or his death.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“There’s nothing to be done.”
That couldn’t be true. He just didn’t understand the advanced technologies available. “Adam, there are great hospitals out there.”
“They can’t help me.”
And he called her stubborn? “How do you know? Have you tried visiting an actual doctor?”
When he didn’t respond, she grabbed his arm, which was heavier than expected. She pulled him, but he hardly moved. “Get up. We can take you somewhere tonight.”
“Why the sudden concern?”
“Because you’re sick.” She blamed the Hippocratic Oath. “I took a vow to use every ability I possess to help the sick, and right now my best judgment is telling me to get you examined by an experienced doctor. So get up.”
He shifted, draping his legs over the side of the bed, but not standing. He stared at the floor.
“Why are you just sitting there?”
“Is it only an oath that binds you to help me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Does it really matter?”
“Yes, it matters.”
Her lips pressed tight. She didn’t want to admit the truth, but she also didn’t want to lie. “Fine. No. I want to help you. Call me crazy, but I think there might be some redeeming qualities in you.”
He looked up at her, his eyes peeking through loose strands of golden hair, and he smiled.
Original Sin (The Order of Vampires Book 1) Page 17
