XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast Read Free Page B

to even remove a threat to her family.
She took a deep breath, and stepped silently across the lush Berber carpet. “It’s a nice room,” she said, proud that her voice held steady.
“Glad you approve.” The sarcasm in his voice rasped at her.
Anger flashed momentarily, and she clung to it, grateful to displace the fear with any other emotion. “So if you’re not going to kill me, what are you going to do to me?”
She forced herself to look squarely at him as she asked the question. In the gentle incandescent light, she could see him more clearly.
She’d already noticed his eyes, his scars. Now she took in the rest of him. He was tall, and built out of pure, solid muscle, draped in what surely was an expensive suit. His hair was shaggy, at odds with the careful details of his wardrobe; wavy and unruly, the long ends curled slightly over his collar. His longish bangs covered part of his face, she could tell. Perhaps deliberate?
No. She couldn’t imagine this man trying to hide what he was from anyone.
He moved again, that quick, fluid movement, like a wolf. There was a wet bar, nestled into the wall; he poured himself something amber, a Scotch or a whiskey. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he admitted in a low voice, his back still turned to her.
She crossed her arms tightly against her chest. He couldn’t possibly…was that remorse she heard in his voice?
“You’re the one who said I could do whatever I wanted until your father returned my rose,” he mused, and his tone was so bitter, she realized that she must be imagining the regret. “So perhaps you can tell me what you’re planning to offer that can even begin to replace what I’ve lost.”
It was like plunging into the frozen lakes back in the Ukraine—a shock so sharp it was numbing.
“Or I’ve got a better idea,” he drawled, turning back to her. “Maybe you should show me.”
“What do you want me to do?” she hedged, buying time.
He leaned against the bar, drink in hand, sardonic amusement etched on his face.
“You’re the sacrificial maiden, here,” he pointed out. “You’re the noble one offering herself for her family. I’m just trying to figure out why, exactly, taking you was worth giving up vengeance against a man who stole the one thing in this world that meant anything to me.”
Anger tinged his words again. He was starting to question their bargain, she realized, her palms sweating.
He was absolutely right in one thing: she’d made this bargain. If she was going to save her family, then she had to stop acting like a scared little mouse and get on with the thing, already.
He wanted sex. Didn’t all men? So she’d give him that. It might be painful, but at least it wasn’t difficult. She would get through it.
Without ceremony, she kicked off her shoes, then took off her clothes with clinical, detached speed. She tugged the sleeveless T-shirt over her head, then unzipped her loose-fitting jeans, dropping them to the ground. She peeled off her socks. She didn’t look at him once, biting her lip as she reached behind her back to unclasp her plain pink cotton bra. She dropped it on the growing pile of clothes.
She made the mistake of looking up as she reached for the waistband of her panties…white cotton, sprayed with violets, cut high on her thighs. The way he was looking at her made her pause.
He stared at her like a starving man. No, like a starving lion, something that wanted to pounce and devour her. The tension in his frame was palpable, even if he still stood, trying to seem bored, trying to seem removed from what was going on.
Slowly, she eased the panties down, past her thighs, down her legs. His eyes followed her every movement, until she was finally completely naked, standing in the middle of the room. She stood, awkward, unsure of what to do next.
He wasn’t bored. He put his glass down on the counter blindly, close to the edge, and pushed away from the wet bar. He took a step toward her, and