But once I put the broccoli in my mouth, I don’t care. It practically melts in my mouth. I don’t know how it’s cooked so well. I put my fork down on the plate again, but realize I’m stabbing meat instead of broccoli this time.
I frown. I’m going to have to nibble on the meat with my teeth. I’m sure he didn’t give me a knife.
Hesitantly, I feel around on the other side of my plate, and there I find the sharp edge of a steak knife.
I have a weapon!
As quickly as I lift it, I feel Zeke’s hand grip my wrist.
I freeze. At his touch, my hair rises on my arms, wanting to feel more of him. My breath catches, and my heart slows. I bite my lip, waiting to hear what he says.
“You show your thoughts easily, Miss Martinez. If you are planning on killing me with this knife, I suggest you have a plan to kill Julian as well. Because the only thing standing between him and you is me.” He releases my wrist and goes back to eating. I decide it’s best to only use the knife to cut my steak instead of Zeke’s throat—at least for the time being.
How did Zeke so clearly read my thoughts? No one can ever read me. I’ll have to be more careful, so he doesn’t learn my secrets before I learn his.
We continue to eat in silence. Zeke finishes eating long before I do, and I can feel his heavy gaze on me as I keep eating, even though we are eating in the dark. I’m glad it’s dark, so I can’t see the look in his eyes. What would I find there if I could see his eyes? Want? Lust? Desire? I don’t want my body to react to any of those feelings. I’m not in a place to handle them. So I just focus on eating.
A moment after I finish, Zeke grabs my plate and silverware and whisks them away. Again he doesn’t speak, but I hear his heavy footsteps. He’s walking away, and before I can make a cognitive decision, I’m following him.
Zeke didn’t give me an order, but I’m already eager to follow his unspoken commands. What will happen when he actually gives me an order? What then? How much of my soul will I lose while Zeke holds me hostage? Not much, since I barely have any soul left to lose. I’m barely hanging on to who I am as it is.
I’m usually defiant. I’m a fighter. I will fight if Zeke tries to harm me, but somehow I’ve turned into an obedient dog, trying to figure out how to please my new master without him even speaking a word. It’s because I’m exhausted and just want to sleep in peace. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to face Julian.
Zeke walks through a hallway, again in the dark. I hear him open a door at the end of the hallway and step inside. I follow, assuming it’s the cage he plans on keeping me in.
But when I walk inside and see the moonlight shining through a large window, I’m shocked to see the most beautiful cage he could have created for me.
A large king-sized bed is the focus of the room, with shiny white sheets sparkling in the moonlight. The floor is dark wood, in deep contrast with the bed, making it look like it’s floating on water. The windows are large and look out over the cliffside to the ocean beyond—the only place where I feel at home.
I look to Zeke, who is opening a dresser drawer.
“Is this my room?” I ask, my throat dry as I speak. It doesn’t make sense if it is. Is he buttering me up with a soft, beautiful bed before he rapes me? Or does he prefer to do his damage in the clean white sheets?
“No.”
No? Then what am I doing here if it isn’t my room?
I start slowing backing away, not liking being in the same room with Zeke when there is a bed he could easily destroy me on.
He closes the drawer and faces me just as I get to the door. He doesn’t seem surprised that I’m trying to escape. He doesn’t draw a gun or try to prevent me from running in any way. He seems in complete control standing there facing me.
“Leaving?” he asks with an amused expression.
“Yes. If this isn’t my room, then I shouldn’t be in here.” I take another step back toward the door, but face Zeke as I do it. I won’t ever turn my back on my enemy.
“Who says I’m giving you any of my rooms?” Zeke answers.
I narrow my eyes. “Then where will you keep me?” Please tell me there isn’t a dungeon or cage somewhere on this property. I’m starting to think Zeke didn’t go to that auction planning on buying me, but something changed, and he did. He’s not prepared for me.
Zeke’s eyes cut to the bed.
I swallow. He wants me in his bed. He’s not going to wait to rape me. He’s going to take what he wants right here, right now.
He tosses something at me, and I catch it automatically.
“Put it on,” he says before he turns around.
I glance at my hands and realize it’s a T-shirt—one of Zeke’s T-shirts. I’d rather sleep in this than what I’m wearing, but I doubt I’ll be sleeping at all tonight.
When I look up, I see Zeke undressing. He’s slowly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out from his pants. But he isn’t facing me. He’s giving me the privacy to change without him looking. So I take advantage. I disrobe and remove my uncomfortable, strappy number and then slip the T-shirt over my head. I feel more comfortable in the shirt that hangs down to just above my knees, but I do wish I had underwear to sleep in.
Zeke is still undressing away from me. His shirt is gone now, and he’s working on his pants.
My teeth scrape over my bottom lip as I take his backside in—strong and masculine. His hair is still up in a man bun on top of his head, and it gives me an unobstructed view of every muscle and tattoo on his back.
Most of the bidding men in that auction room were disgusting, gross, unfit monsters. But Zeke has the body of a god; he didn’t need to buy one in order to have his choice of women. Tattoos are inked into his back, and when he drops his pants, I groan at the sight of his tight ass in his Calvin Kleins, fitting to his muscular ass like a second layer of skin.
Turn around. Show me your package.
He does, and my eyes bulge. Holy hell! I’ve never seen a package so perfectly formed beneath a man’s boxer briefs. But his has me mesmerized. I want to unwrap him and see what’s underneath. I want to turn him on and see how big his erection can grow. I want—
“My eyes are up here, Siren.”
Fuck, I’ve been caught.
I glare at him. “Just getting a good look so I know where to aim when I cut off your dick. Because I will knife you before I ever let you stick your cock anywhere near me.”
He cocks his head. “Really? Because the heat in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, and drool pooling in the corner of your mouth tells me you’d rather ride my cock than cut it off.”
I grit my teeth as steam boils inside me. How can he be so infuriatingly good at reading me? I always hide my emotions. It’s my signature trait. But not with him. With him, he sees the real me, and that terrifies me. He could discover my secret, and that would be worse than him raping me.
Zeke walks over to me, and I freeze. I try to hold my expression so he can’t tell if I’m terrified, turned on, or am about to attack him. He stops just in front of me and both of our breaths heat. He exhales into my hair, while I inhale his bare chest.
My breath rises harder in my chest, and I lick my lips in anticipation of a kiss before I remember that he owns me. He isn’t going to kiss me; he’s going to fuck me—destroy me, ruin me.