by Jaide Fox
From her position, she looked out of the window that faced her, though she could see sky and nothing else. Twilight reigned, that hazy darkness that warned of approaching dawn ... or coming night. She could not remember changing, but then, she usually did not, no more than the barest sense of it. Could an entire day have passed without her knowledge?
And if she had changed back and been healed, who then lay at her back? Logic dictated it would be her captor, Raphael. He would naturally be the most powerful hunter if he ruled them. Spoils always went to the victor. Seized by curiosity, Swan turned into his embrace for a glimpse at the man who would call her prisoner.
His hand slid down her hip at her movement, dangerously close to her femininity. She stilled, held her breath as she awaited some sign he’d awakened. The deep rhythm of his breathing greeted her. He’d not been disturbed.
Lying at an angle now, all she could see from the corner of her eye was a shock of black hair. Her hip began cramping from the twisted position. She couldn’t hold it for long. She wondered just how deeply he slept. With the time, she must’ve changed a short while ago, so he could not have slept near her long. Certainly he’d not fallen into a deep sleep so quickly. The sky steadily darkened to pitch as she waited. The moons slowly began their ascent.
As she lay studying him, an outrageous plan began to take form in her mind. She dismissed it at first, daunted by the enormity of it, unnerved that it had even occurred to her, feeling her pulse quicken with an odd mixture of excitement and alarm. Still, it nagged at her, refusing to be quelled until she examined the idea for flaws.
There were, she concluded, a wealth of them. On the other hand, she was in no position to dismiss a plot she perceived as holding tremendous potential for gaining what she needed. With an effort, she forced her doubts to the back of her mind, forced herself to calm reflection. The plot would only work if he was sound asleep as she suspected. It was wicked, not at all the thing for a lady to do, but it was her one chance to convince the beastman she was serious. If he wouldn’t willingly help her--she’d force his hand.
Swan listened once more to confirm her safety. Satisfied, she began inching away from him. Sweat dotted her skin as she concentrated on small movements, moving with excruciating slowness. Finally, she managed to dangle one leg over the side of the bed. She was near spread eagle from the position, and his hand slipped steadily down, until it rested between her thighs. She gritted her teeth at the contact, flushing. Her body felt like a flower thirsting for water, thirsting for the heat and feel of him. Long had she been without a man’s touch, not since she’d lost the seal of her body so many years ago in one careless act of defiance. An inch more and he could delve into her womanhood--
She closed her eyes, willed the blossoming desire down. He knew not what he did. It was abhorrent the thoughts flooding her mind. He didn’t knowingly touch her--she could be any woman for all he was aware. It was insane to react to the touch of a beast, a stranger.
Slowly, she regained her purpose and used the strength of her leg to slide out from under him. She freed herself enough to rise from the bed. Almost at once, he sighed and turned, lying flat on his back with his arms upraised.
Swan stopped breathing as she awaited discovery. Watching him suspiciously, she got her first look at the man who had captured her. When he didn’t stir immediately, when it was certain he slept on, she took her leisure in examining this man-beast. He was different than she’d thought, not at all the monster she had visualized.
Long, black hair shrouded his face, streaming over the sharp line of his jaw. A single strand caught in the part of his full lips. She itched to remove it, part the flow of hair to see him fully, but she didn’t dare. Almost, she wished he would open his eyes, just so she could see the color, but that time would come soon enough.
The rising moon increased at the window and sculpted the hard lines of his chest in the silver light. It slipped along his tapering waist and the flat hardness of his stomach, drawing her eyes down. He was completely naked, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at his sex. Not the smallest measure of fat existed on his body. He was all muscle and rampantly male, more so than any other she’d ever known--and far more dangerous.
She wondered what he looked like awake. Would his muscles play fluidly with restrained power? Would his smile be as feral as she imagined? Swan shook herself from the arresting vision of him in repose. Now was not the time to dawdle. She had no notion the ways of servants in this castle, but she couldn’t chance discovery before she’d had the chance to put her plot into action.
She quickly searched the room for some implement to bind him. There were no tools or ropes that she could see, no drapery but the fragile gauze that even she could rip through with ease.
The furs would be of no use either. They were too tough and thick to bend as needed. She looked back at the squat table. All she had were the sad remains of her robes. Sighing, she picked the robe up and walked softly around to the opposite side of the bed where he lay.
With quick efficiency, she twisted the length of fabric into a thick cord and looped the ends into knots that she could slip over his wrists and tighten from the top once in place. She knew she would have to move quickly, before he could rouse. Thankfully, he’d angled enough in his sleep that she saw she could bind him to one bedpost.
She wrapped the length around the post and took a deep breath, willing her nerve not to waver. It was now or never. Her heart drummed in her throat, choking off her breath. Steeling herself for action, she gently slipped the loops around his upraised wrists. The moment she had the loops around his wrists, she snatched the knot at the crux of the post, tightening the binding.
He awakened at once with a startling growl. Swan leapt atop the bed and straddled him, holding him down with her body while she clamped her hands over his mouth. He went still immediately when he saw her, though his arms tensed with leashed power.
Alert, he was more frightening than she’d imagined he could possibly be when she’d thought about tying him up. Slanted brows drew down in anger. Fierce black eyes, flecked with gold, stared at her above the level of her hands. Swan watched him warily, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat. She’d caught a wolf, and now didn’t know what to do with him.
“Are you going to call for help if I take my hands away?” she asked. “Blink once for no, twice for yes.”
He blinked once.
Swan regarded him suspiciously for several moments before she slowly withdrew her hands.
“Why have you bound my arms?” he said, his voice tight, his gaze watchful.
Swan felt a surge of victory as she realized he was well and truly caught. She’d done it. He was at her mercy. She needed only the strength of will to enact her plan. “Now you are my prisoner,” she said triumphantly.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue