As Wicked continued eating, I took stock of my surroundings. He kept his weapons locked away in a trunk at the foot of his bed whenever he was home, except for the dagger he kept on his belt. The kitchen knives were blunted things that, in theory, weren’t dangerous, but used correctly could do some damage.

I’d need to do more than just hurt him, though.

To earn my freedom, he had to die.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Eight

After supper was complete, I stretched into a yawn. My time in the forest had left me exhausted, and I was ready to sleep for another few days. I eyed my cage morosely, imagining a night on the cold, hard ground. Wicked caught my stare and bit his bottom lip, indecision in his gaze.

“You can sleep in the bed,” he said, finally.

I narrowed my eyes. “Where will you sleep?”

“On the sofa,” he said. It looked too small to accommodate his large frame, but I was hardly worried about that.

“Fine.” I stood and headed toward the bed when Wicked intercepted me.

Though he didn’t lay a hand on me, he stood so close I had to crane my neck to look into his face. Warmth siphoned off him in waves, and I remembered the way he’d carried me in the woods. How good it had felt to press myself up against that wall of heated muscle. I shook my head. My brain was addled from all this stress. The only reason I’d needed his warmth was because he had put me in that situation in the first place.

“I’m trusting you not to do anything stupid,” he said, his voice practically a growl. He leaned closer, and I looked away, my gaze finding the door and the only exit from my prison. Strong fingers found my chin before he directed my face back to him.

“Rowan,” he said, and I blinked, surprised to hear my name on his lips and trying not to notice the illicit way my heartbeat kicked up when he growled it like that. Like he intended to break me apart and see what I was made of. “I mean it. You’ll get lost out there and it’s dangerous. You can’t run from me. I’m stronger and faster, and I can scent your trail for miles. There’s nowhere you can go.”

His face was so close to mine, I could feel the whisper of his breath on my lips. He smelled like his bedsheets. Like the forest and fresh, earthy things. In the pit of my stomach, I felt a conflicted shiver as my mouth parted.

For a moment, we hung suspended in a trance, our gazes warring with a churning sea of unspoken thoughts.

What was happening to me?

“Okay,” I lied, finally finding my voice somewhere at my feet. I’d use any opportunity I could to get out of here. No matter what he said, I’d have to take my chances in the forest.

He stared at me for another moment and then nodded, before heading to the kitchen to clean up after our supper.

I didn’t offer to help. He’d stolen me from my family and my life to use as bait and he could do the fucking dishes himself. I kicked off my slippers and, without another word, slid under the warm covers and promptly fell asleep.

It was fully dark outside when I awoke, the fire burning low in the hearth. The room was warm and cozy, and I snuggled deeper into the covers when the soft sounds of sleep drew my attention. Wicked sat on the floor with his back against the bed and his head tipped to the side. I rolled my eyes. I guess he hadn’t trusted me enough to remain on the sofa on the other side of the room.

He breathed heavily, his shoulders moving up and down in a rhythmic pattern. If he believed that would stop me, he wasn’t as smart as he thought.

Slowly, I eased out of the bed, placing my socked feet on the cold ground. When I glanced at Wicked, I sucked in a breath. His top half was bare, that strange line of tattoos continuing down his throat and over his smooth chest, down his ribs and along the side of his chiseled stomach. He looked like he’d been carved from stone, and I took a moment to admire the curve of his broad shoulders and what had to be the most exquisite collarbone I’d ever seen. My eyes trained on the dark line of hair that ran under his navel and disappeared into his waistband, before my cheeks flushed with heat.

He was a monster, but...wow.

Finally, I gathered my wits and scooted over to where my boots sat next to the bed. I quickly laced them on, keeping one eye trained on Wicked, not allowing my gaze to wander south of his chin, but I wasn’t sure that was any better. Why had the gods seen fit to turn this beast into the perfect specimen of male beauty?

I shook my head and forced myself to focus.

He shouldn’t have trusted me, not for a moment.

I noticed the dagger he always wore was tightly gripped in his large hand. Fuck. There was no way I could get it. I quietly shuffled to his weapons trunk and found it securely locked. I knew he kept the key in his pocket, but there was no chance I could dig into it without rousing him. And then the idea of putting my hand in his pants caused my cheeks to flush again.

Focus, Rowan. 

As I noted earlier, the utensils in the kitchen wouldn’t do me much good either. He’d already locked away anything sharper than a butter knife. I could try sticking one in his eye, but that wouldn’t kill him, just make him really angry. I didn’t need to experience his Fae strength to know he could overpower me in a heartbeat.

Fuck it. I’d just run. If I could make it back to the castle, maybe I could seek safety behind those walls while I figured something out. My father couldn’t go against the decree, but maybe we could stall for time.

With another glance at Wicked, I put on my cloak and fastened it before tugging on my mittens. I took a deep breath to steady my pounding heart and then crept for the door on silent feet and eased it open. Thankfully, there was no wind tonight, making that one less thing to worry about.

Keeping my eyes on him, I opened it a little wider until I could slip through. He continued sleeping, his chest rising and falling, the gleam of the fire glinting off his smooth tanned skin. I slipped out the door and eased it closed.

After it was shut, I waited, holding my breath. Had I really succeeded?

When I didn’t hear any movements on the other side, I let out a relieved breath and then turned and ran for my life.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Nine

The moon was high, offering me plenty of light as I made my way across the courtyard and through the gates of the ruined castle. The forest became a blur as I raced through the trees, heading toward my home.

My hair whipped across my face, my cloak billowing as it caught on the branches of the bushes and trees. I considered discarding it to speed my flight, but it was too cold. If I had to hide somewhere when morning came, I’d need it. My breath fogged in the air in hot gusts, and I tried not to think about what might be lurking in the shadows as I ran.

Casting a look behind me, I tried to discern if I was being followed. Hopefully Wicked wouldn’t awake for hours, and by then I’d be long gone. But my stomach sank when I realized a dark blur was racing through the trees, and it was gaining on me quickly.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath when suddenly the ground disappeared under me, and I pitched forward with a scream. I was rolling down the side of a steep incline, tumbling end over end, branches and brush scratching and scraping at my skin. A sharp pain dragged along my shoulder, and I screamed again as I spun in a blur.

Finally, I came to a jarring stop at the bottom of a steep ravine. I groaned, my body aching and my shoulder on fire. I couldn’t tell if I’d broken any bones, but I hurt everywhere.