Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“What are you—”
He interrupts me. “Spy or assassin?”
His voice is low and rough, like the forces of the tectonic plates shifting. It goes straight through me, down into my core, causing my arms to break out in goosebumps. But there’s even more to it—some kind of control. Like he’s holding something back.
This man is trained.
“I don’t know what you mean.” My voice sticks in my throat, which is dry and sore. A result of breathing all that cold air that almost killed me. He stares at me a moment before standing, and it’s then I realize just how enormous he truly is. With each step he takes toward me, it’s like he grows taller.
He leans in and adjusts something on my shoulder. It’s then I realize I’m wearing nothing—nothing but a fur blanket.
“Where are my clothes?” I blurt out.
With a hint of a smile, he nods to the fireplace, where I see them hanging over a line. “They were blocks of ice. I had to take them off you or you’d die.”
My cheeks are prickling with embarrassment. He took them off me? That means he’s seen me naked. The only man who has ever seen me naked, and I’m his prisoner.
“And why am I tied to this chair?”
His eyes narrow. I can’t tell if he’s amused or pissed off.
“Because I need to know if you’re a spy or an assassin sent to kill me.”
His words strike me like arrows, causing a hitch in my breath. I thought it was hard breathing out in the storm. But now…
It’s like being stuck in a fever dream. This can’t be real. I nearly die in a car crash in the midst of a freak blizzard and am saved by the most spectacularly gorgeous man I could imagine, only to be accused of trying to kill him?
Part of me wants to know what he thought when he stripped me down. Did he like what he saw? God, what do I care? Am I that desperate for praise from this rugged Adonis?
“Look, just untie me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Negative.”
His voice chills through me like the winds outside. This man definitely has military training. He’s dangerous. So why is he up here living in this luxury cabin with hardwood floors, a massive stone hearth, windows twice his height, and a view of the trees that could be the cover of a magazine?
My gorgeous rescuer is standing tall over me, his lips tight, a massive hand clutching a knife that could go right through me, and I’m worrying about what he thought of my naked body…What does that say about me?
Feeling my cheeks blush, I want to look away, but I hold his gaze.
“Look, I appreciate you saving my life, but I need to get out of here. I need to get as far away from here as possible.”
“That’s not happening,” he growls.
His eyes gleam down at me like lightning, igniting a spark in me like nothing I’ve ever felt. No man has ever spoken to me with this level of assertiveness. Not even my father when he was on a bender and screaming at me. And honestly, it’s awakening something inside me. Something I should not be feeling for a man who has me tied to a chair.
“Why is that not happening?”
“You know why.”
I shake my head as he continues to stare, his eyes burning holes through me.
“I really don’t.”
“Don’t play games with me,” he snarls, flexing his grip on the knife’s hilt. “It’s do or die time, sweetheart. Why did you say his name?”
Again, I twist against my restraints, but the ropes only tighten.
“Whose name?” I blurt out. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His lips tighten. “Damon Vale, sweetheart. Damon Vale.”
I freeze, not because of the cold but because of that man’s name coming out of this man’s mouth. I must have whispered it while I was out cold. Does he work for him? After all that effort to escape, was I then “rescued” by a man on the payroll of my owner-to-be?
Well, there’s no use in lying. Not while I’m tied up.
“I was running from Damon Vale. My father sold me to him to cover his gambling debts.”
In a flash, my captor is an inch from my face. So close I can smell his pheromones. And they’re delicious.
“Don’t you lie to me!” he growls. “Damon sent you here to kill me, didn’t he?”
“No! What? Do I look like a killer to you? You’re crazy!”
He stares at me for a long moment, then slowly, his face relaxes. The edge of his mouth twists into a half-smile. “No, you don’t. You look like an angel to me.”
And like that, he leans in and slices the ropes at my wrists and ankles, freeing me. Instantly, I bolt for the door. Maybe I’m naked and there’s a blizzard outside, but I can’t stay here.