Especially since I wasn’t the firstborn son. I was the second.
A stolen throne.
A position of leadership I didn’t deserve.
The very reason my heart had turned to stone.
CHAPTER 16
Catherine
I’d awakened with a jolt to the sound of silence.
Not the screams of utter chaos, or panic-driven cries for help under the rain of gunfire.
In my nightmare, the walls had been covered in blood, thick strings creating macabre art illuminated by the ugly stain of overhead fluorescent lights.
The terror had been instant and palpable, suffocating me as the cool sheets wrapped around my sore and aching body had accomplished.
When I’d finally fought my way through the thick haze, the only way I’d managed to calm my nerves was by concentrating on the slender wooden blades of the ceiling fan creating a breeze in the humidity-laden bedroom.
Alexander’s scent had lingered everywhere in the room. On the sheets and pillows, the shirt he’d tossed to the floor before layingclaim to my body once again. And over every inch of my sensitive skin.
What had struck me after I’d awakened and the aftermath of envisioning such horror was that I’d felt an extreme emptiness followed by a deep longing. I’d stretched my arms out, pulling the pillow where he’d finally fallen asleep against my nose, capturing a full breath of his masculinity.
I’d slipped into his shirt, pressing the material tightly against me, smiling the moment I’d realized the balcony door was unlocked and I was able to enjoy the late morning and gentle breeze.
Trust.
The five-letter word meant more at this point in my life than ever before. And why?
Because my captor hadn’t locked the bedroom door when he’d left. He hadn’t shackled me in chains or tied me to the bed with strands of thick rope, preventing me from venturing out on my own.
He’d allowed me to walk freely in and around his house, as if I was nothing but his guest for the weekend, sharing passion in good food and wine, and nights spent writhing under soft sheets.
But that’s not what we were doing.
In leaving me alone, he’d offered me an opportunity to escape, knowing I could do so. Yet he’d placed his trust in me as he’d asked me to do with him.
And honestly? I wasn’t entirely certain how I felt about that.
On one hand, I should do everything it took to find a way out. Surely, there was one neighbor who would open the door. Or one person who’d allow me to use their cellphone to call for help.
If I were as strongly convicted to the law I’d pledged my loyalty to, then there would have been no other choice.
So why had I remained roaming his house, making a fresh cup of coffee and enjoying spending time in his backyard instead of fleeing for my life?
Or maybe just my sanity?
Because I wasn’t ready to return to the everyday drudgery that had become my life.
How fascinating.
How telling.
Had my handsome captor presented me with a series of rules that boiled down to commanding that I didn’t try to escape? Yes. Had he reminded me several times about the consequences I would face if I did? Absolutely.
Did he sound threatening?
