If I escaped, I’d be returning to my old life of being imprisoned back in that grand manor in the Garden District. Cassius would come for us and maybe this time even hurt Archie. I’d never forgive myself if I led him home only for him to kill my brother. Keeping him safe was more important than anything.
Keeping them all safe.
If I stayed and was brave enough to befriend this man, maybe I could convince him my father regretted any mistake he’d made that had hurt him. Surely seeing how much Dad hurt this man, he would. And maybe, if I got to know Cassius well, I’d be able to stop him from ever hurting anyone else. Bide my time until I was rescued.
And maybe, just maybe, I’d earn my freedom.
Resting my forehead against the scratch of bark, I breathed through this plan, praying it was a choice I wouldn’t regret.
Retracing my steps, feeling battered from hunger and the sting of nature’s flooring, I made it all the way to the clearing. There, standing on the doorstep and leaning back on the open door was Cassius. His beautiful dark eyes were unreadable. Strong arms crossed over his chest as though judging me for staying as much as he’d judged me for trying to leave.
With my head held high, I strolled toward him and continued on into the house, refusing to look him in the eye.
Anya
The evening air was thick and rich with the scent of woodland. Dusk brought with it the birdsong only reserved for this late hour. Cricket frogs, though unseen, joining the chorus.
Exploring the property was the only thing keeping me sane.
I’d not seen Cassius since yesterday.
We’d both been avoiding each other. Or so it seemed.
Running my hand along the wall, I tried to find another way in. With its stained glass windows and modest steeple, this had to be a chapel.
“What are you doing?” a voice snapped from behind me.
I jolted with surprise, my heart pounding at the scare. Fascination must have flashed over my face to see Cassius wearing a Brioni suit, all tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome.
I tried to pretend I wasn’t affected by him.
“I’m trying to get in here. Only there’s a padlock.”
“What are padlocks generally used for?”
“To keep people out.”
He gave a look that told me that’s what this was. “I was looking for you.”
“It’s not like there are that many places to hide around here.”
He glanced back at the maze. “Well, clearly, you didn’t look hard enough.”
“Where is everyone?”
“I let the rest of the staff go. Thought it best you and I got to know each other better without interruption over dinner.”
Which meant there was no one here who could get a message out for me. Frustration welled as I mulled this over. “What about your security guards?”
“Gone.”
“Everyone?”
“I’ve kept two men to guard the property. They have strict instructions not to interact with you.”
“In case they find out I’m here against my will?”
“In case you mess up, and they have to shoot you.”
I ignored that cruel barb. “Why do you keep this place locked?”
“Because that’s where I sacrifice young virgins on the altar.” Without a drip of sarcasm. “Interruptions can ruin a good ritual.”
I stormed away from him, pissed off that he thought saying something like that to me would be considered funny. I mean, he could be a devil worshiper for all I knew.
Sprinting into the house, I hurried up the staircase toward my bedroom. Hurrying along the hallway to outrun him.
Not just him but also these foreign feelings swirling like wild birds set free in my chest, trying to fight this sense of belonging, this crippling want. This need to be near a man I was destined to hate. And why the hell did he think it necessary to dress up like that? All gorgeous and refined and ridiculously seductive.
And if I was honest, provoking Cassius had become a dark pleasure. I savored his jaw flexing in frustration, his intrigue—or something else, fascination for me, perhaps. The way he brushed his thumb across his lips as though buying time to think. The way his eyes sparkled when near me and then changed to reflect no emotion at all—he was very good at hiding himself.
I’d learned firsthand how the adults in my family ruled, though. They weren’t intimidated by anyone. They always got what they wanted one way or another. Never seeming to let feelings get in the way. Love was a weakness never to be shown.
All I knew was unraveling. Surviving this, surviving him was down to me. Turning to look back, I felt a rush of pride I’d outrun him.
Continuing around the corner, I crashed into Cassius’s chest, slamming against his hard abs, knocking the air out of me, and leaving me breathless.
When I moved sideways to get by him, he blocked me, forcing me to step backward until I hit the wall.
He pinned me there, placing his hands on either side of my head on the wall to block me in. “You know that was a joke, right?”
“Which one?”
He narrowed his sights on me, seemingly annoyed.
The air crackled with tension. A rush of electricity surging through my body that shivered with the contact of my palms pressing against his chest. The way he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip was dangerously alluring. I stared too long at his mouth, my face flushing with embarrassment. I wanted to press my lips to his. This need raw and this desire so brutal that I had to squeeze my eyes shut.
“You didn’t let me add that I hadn’t cleaned up from the last virgin sacrifice.” He laughed, and small dimples appeared in his cheeks.
The kissable kind. “Fuck off.”
“Excuse me.”
I’m sure Cassius was usually impressed with his Brioni suits—like the one he was wearing now. Finely tailored to highlight his broad shoulders. I’m sure he usually dazzled everyone when he entered a room. Or even when he dragged his fingers through his lush hair in that pissed-off fashion as though this was the only way to keep calm. But here, with me, he was nothing but my captor. One with a stupid sense of humor. He rested a fingertip on my chin and tipped my gaze to his.
“What did you just say?”
“Don’t remember.” I turned my face away.
Again, he nudged me to look at him.
“Did you tell me to fuck off?” He hovered a pointed finger near my nose.
“What are you going to do about it?”
His lip curled at the edge. “Use your imagination.”
“Nice of you to dress up for dinner,” I teased. “But you’re wasting your time. I’m not joining you.”
“Don’t make me dress you, Anya.”
“You wouldn’t—”
He took me by the arm and led me into the room that was meant to be mine. Guiding me across the hardwood floors of the bedroom. Letting go of my arm and opening the closet. I stood there partly amused at his bossiness and partly intrigued by what he might choose.
On the wall was a blank space from where that mirror had hung. The frame was now gone, and we both looked at it as though recalling how I had smashed the glass.
He reached for a hanger and pulled out a lemon-colored dress. Shoving it against my chest. “This one.”