He turned to face me, leaning against the counter and crossing one ankle over the other, hands braced against the edge. “Then you can sleep in your cell.” The look on his face brooked no argument, and I knew I wouldn’t win this one.

My nostrils flared in indignation. “Fine.”

“Glad you can see reason, Princess,” he said in the most condescending voice possible. I wrapped my hand around my butter knife, strategizing on where I could shove it so it would do the most damage. He caught the movement and then smirked.

“Don’t bother. I’m a hundred times stronger than you could ever hope to be, Princess.” He rewarded my glower with a smug smile before he turned his back on me, confident I posed absolutely no threat.

Later, when I crawled into the bed at my place against the wall, he did what he’d promised, digging out one of those manacles he’d used on me earlier, securing it to my ankle and then the bed. It left me free to move, but fuck if it wasn’t demeaning. He then gave me a pointed look and stuffed the key deep into his pocket, as if to remind me there was no way I was getting to it.

“Don’t think I’d hesitate to reach in your pants for the key if the opportunity arose,” I said, not entirely sure if it was a joke. Instead of the reaction I’d expected—a roll of his eyes or a glare—his mouth fell open and then snapped shut and...gods, was he blushing?

Suddenly I didn’t know where to look as my own face heated. He cleared his throat before he looked away, pretending to busy himself with his boots as he pulled them off.

He turned down the lamps, leaving only the glow of the hearth, and lay down next to me. As the mattress dipped, I felt the tangible weight of his presence like a flashing beacon. The silence we normally shared had shifted, stretching between us with a tension molded from what felt like a thousand thoughts neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

Trying to scatter the heaviness in my chest, I rolled to my side, my back facing him. It did nothing to quell the uncomfortable tightness that pulled low in my stomach.

“Good night,” he said softly, but I didn’t answer.

A few days later, Wicked announced, “I’m going to do some scouting today.”

The reality of my situation came crashing to a shuddering halt. We’d been enjoying an easy sort of truce while I’d recovered from my fall. I’d almost forgotten why I was here and why he’d stolen me from my home. Maybe some part of me had thought he’d changed his mind, but clearly I was wrong. Why had he bothered to take care of me at all?

“Can I come?” I asked, and he pinned me with a dark look.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Princess.”

I shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

There was a small tug at the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing while he continued dressing. When he was done, he’d erased all traces of humor before he pointed me back to my cage.

This time, he did me the courtesy of cleaning it up and providing some blankets and pillows, along with food and water and even a few books to pass the time. It was still a cage, but it was a little more pleasant. A small part of me could hardly blame him for locking me up. I wouldn’t trust myself either, and I was far from finished with my escape attempts. As far as I was concerned, that dagger still had his name on it.

After he locked it, he stared down at me for a moment and I stared back, my expression defiant, willing him to feel the shame of what he was doing. There was a flicker in his gaze. A hairline crack in his stony facade that I planned to manipulate to my advantage. Then he grunted and spun away before storming to the door and slamming it so hard it shook the walls.

His footsteps crunched in the snow, fading away before I sat back and waited.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Eleven

The next week continued in the same vein as I continued to recover. When he was home, Wicked never let me out of his sight and never let his guard down.

Every day, he’d go out for hours and leave me locked up, returning as the sun was setting to make us dinner. Our conversation flowed surprisingly easily while he asked me questions about my family and my life. There was something calming about being away from the castle and all my former obligations. The role of heir was never one I particularly relished.

Wicked seemed to love listening to the stories of me and Margaret getting into all sorts of trouble and appeared genuinely interested in everything I had to say. I couldn’t figure him out and as the time wore on, I sensed us both easing into an unfamiliar place where our walls were thinning at the seams.

Though I was enjoying myself, maybe even a little too much, the idea that I might charm him into releasing me was never far from my mind. Once in a while, I’d catch a genuine smile when I recounted some silly tale from my childhood. It transformed his entire face, rendering even those fearsome tattoos into something far more innocent.

I tried to fish for information about him, both because I was genuinely curious, but also because I desperately wanted to know why he wanted to capture the ogre and why I was being made his unwilling sacrifice.

Every time I’d steer the conversation toward him, he’d clam up and then order me to bed, the conversation done for the night. He still chained me to it, though I suspected he did so with increasing reluctance.

He always slept without his tunic, maintaining a respectful distance that did nothing to subdue the heaviness that settled in the room every night. The sight and scent of his bare skin was a complete distraction and more than once I found myself wondering what it would be like to touch him, to smooth my hands over the swell of his shoulders or the lines of his chest. To drag my fingers down the planes of his stomach and explore...lower. I didn’t understand these indecent thoughts I was having more and more often. My emotions were turning into a jumble of warring desires threatening to tow me under.

It was about three weeks after I’d tried to run when I awoke one morning with my face buried into a cocoon of velvet that smelled of forests and the rain. Groaning in approval, I snuggled closer into the column of warmth. Then I cracked open my eyes, suddenly realizing what I was wrapped around. I looked up, hoping against hope he was still asleep and I could disentangle myself with no one the wiser.

However, a pair of curious pine green eyes regarded me. No such luck.

“Comfy?” he asked, a dark eyebrow arching. Frozen, I didn’t move, realizing that my arm and leg were both thrown across him.

“What did you do?” I accused, not really wanting to move. He was so warm and solid, and this felt better than I wanted to admit.

“This is my side of the bed, Princess. You’re the one who did something.” I looked behind me and sure enough, it had been me who’d clearly rolled over and was now lying practically on top of him.

“Shut up,” I said as I finally forced myself away, sitting up and scooting back until I hit the wall. Wicked tossed me a smirk before he rose from the bed. He quickly reached for his tunic and covered himself, but our gazes met, knowing we’d both just noticed the clear outline that stretched in the front of his breeches.

“It’s morning,” he stammered then, his face turning red. Oh, this was too good. “And your thigh was right where...” His nostrils flared and he tossed me a glare. “Shut up.” Then he turned and stomped away, not looking at me before he donned his tunic and washed his face in the basin in the corner.

When he unlocked my ankle, I continued grinning while he refused to meet my eyes. I willed myself not to check that rather interesting part of his anatomy again, sure I wouldn’t be able to keep the same blush off my face.