I shove the blankets down before slipping under them and pulling them up to my chin. My eyes feel heavy, but my stomach grumbles at the idea of getting a sandwich and some coffee.
My eyes open, and a scream lodges itself in my throat. Logan is standing over me, watching me with heated desire burning in his gaze. His hand planted firmly on his crotch, stroking himself gently through the material.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I told you, Beauty, I love watching you sleep.” The dark smile on his lips makes him look handsome, alluring, and dangerous at the same time.
Shock lances through me, and I realize he did tell me. He was honest. While we spoke online, he didn’t hold back once he told me his needs.
“But,” I mumble, unsure what to say. How can someone want that? I mean. It makes no sense to be turned on by . . . Shaking my head, I push up against the headboard. “I don’t understand. Is that why you brought me here?”
“I brought you here to keep you safe.”
“Yet, you’re violating that safety.” My words are harsh. Logan visibly winces at my retort, but before I have time to feel guilty for what I said, I tell him, “I mean . . . You can’t just come in here and . . .” I wave my hand in the air, unsure how to even describe what he was doing.
“I know. I mean, I brought your breakfast, and then I saw you lying there, beautiful, dreaming, and I couldn’t stop myself.” His words are pained. I don’t have time to say anything more because he rushes from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Silence greets me. The room is suddenly colder, harsher than I remember it being before I fell asleep. I look up at the vanity and notice the tray sitting there. A steaming mug along with a plated sandwich call to me, and for a moment, I forget about our interaction because my stomach growls painfully.
I scoot to my feet, padding over to the vanity, and grab a piece of the sandwich, which he cut into small triangles, and I bite into the soft bread. It’s still warm as if he’d just baked it himself, and the flavors of butter and cheese melt on my tongue. I can’t help but groan in pleasure as the food finally makes its way down to my stomach.
I haven’t eaten in a while, and this is delicious. I quickly finish the rest of the sandwich before I grab the coffee and settle back in bed. The mug sits on the nightstand, and I glance out the window, noticing how the sky is slowly turning dark.
I’ve lost track of time being here. I can’t imagine it’s been more than a day, maybe two. But I have slept more than I have done in a long while. The door slides open after I hear the lock clicking, and Logan saunters in.
He makes his way toward me silently, setting down a stack of books before he turns for the door. He looks tense, his shoulders bunched, and his head bowed. Suddenly, I see the broken prince he claims to be.
“Wait.”
He responds, “I’m not letting you out of this room, Vera,” he mumbles under his breath.
“No, I . . .” My voice falters. I want to tell him something to keep him here. I feel lonely, and his presence, even though I’m still angry, makes it more bearable.
“Then what?” He glances at me over his shoulder. I notice the glasses he was wearing yesterday, rim dark eyes that look right through me. There’s something haunted about him. A darkness I can’t read, but it’s there, creasing the corners of his eyes.
I have to admit he’s handsome. He’s tall, broad, and more man than boy. His angular jaw and sharp features make him look scary like he’s a mountain man who could so easily fling me over his shoulder and saunter into the woods without anyone stopping him.
“Vera?” My name pulls me from the thoughts racing through my head.
“Can you sit with me?” Even though the question is whispered, I know he heard because his expression changes from angry to sad. “Just for a little while.”
I don’t know why I want him here, close by. But I do. There’s a pull between us, something I can’t deny because I feel it every time he’s near me. As if we’re magnets, a positive and negative being drawn together.
I don’t know what to make of it.
But I know it’s something dangerous.
12
Logan
What can I say to her?
How can I deny her?
I don’t respond, but I do nod. I suppose it’s my kind of reply. I turn and head for the chair, perched in the corner of her room. She eyes the door but then seems to think better of it. She should know that even if she makes it downstairs, there’s no way she’s getting out of the house. I’ve locked her in. Safely.
“Do you like living out here?” she asks, startling me because I didn’t expect her to want to talk. I’m not sure I’m ready to speak about my life or what I need or want. Even though I gave her more of me through a website, I don’t think she needs to hear about me face to face.
The anonymity of being online was easy. This? This is something completely different. It’s dangerous. I can’t let her get under my skin. And even as I think it, I know it’s a lie because she’s already there, burrowing her sweetness and innocence down into the depths of me.
She watches me, waiting for an answer, but I just shrug, pulling my phone out of my pocket and focusing on the email from Dax. Nothing more came after his initial email, and I know we’d be in more trouble if it weren’t for him helping me.
I’m not sure how long it’s going to take for them to get information, but I have a feeling my father will find her apartment before that happens.
“How long were you hiding out?” I ask her, but I don’t look at her. I don’t want to see the pain etched on her from knowing my father would marry her, bed her, and make her give him more children.
He may have waited until she was eighteen, but that doesn’t excuse him from what he wants to do. I look up to see her staring out the window. She doesn’t want to tell me, but I need to know.
“Vera, when did you run?”
“When I turned eighteen. I got one of my father’s trusted contacts to make me new paperwork, ID card, passport, but I couldn’t leave. I wanted to fly away, perhaps find a life in a new country, but I never got as far. The thought of leaving my father, even after what he did, wasn’t something I wanted to do.”
“So you stayed in harm’s way?” I know I sound rude and callous, but the thought of my father finding her, touching her, has jealousy coursing through me. I want to kill the fucker for even attempting to marry her.
“And you’re here because?” She turns to me. “If you hadn’t walked out, I wouldn’t have to live in captivity.” Her anger is back, and it’s warranted because she’s right. But how could she even think I could want her back then? “All I wanted was a normal life,” she tells me wistfully, but her eyes are trained on the window. On the forest beyond. Even if she did get out of the cabin, she wouldn’t get far because there’s nothing out there.
“And what exactly is a normal life?” I ask, wanting to give her that more than anything, but even though I do, I know it’s impossible.
“A home somewhere scenic, a playful dog, maybe even someone who loves me. A partner who can take the darkness that courses through my veins and make me see it’s not stupid or crazy. Someone who accepts that I need those things. Pleasure. Happiness. Things that normal people have.”