What the hell?
What the actual fuck?
My body goes limp beneath Rowland’s, every muscle turning to liquid. I can’t lift my arms to shove him off. Can’t move my legs to kick free. All I can do is lie within the prison of his limbs, panting through the aftershocks. My pussy twitches around his softening cock, making me realize he’s also come.
“Annalisa?” Rowland’s voice sounds like it’s coming from the treetops.
I sink into the leaf litter, not completely knowing if I’m alive or dead.
“Are you alright?” he asks, sounding closer.
My lips move, but my tongue is thick and useless. I try to answer but only manage a weak whimper.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
Strong arms slide under my thighs and back, lifting me off the grass like I’m weightless. My head lolls against his shoulder as he pulls me into his chest. I groan against his skin, which is slick with sweat, inhaling a heady mix of salt and sex.
He carries me through the orchard, his heart beating just as fast as mine. Branches rustle overhead, and I stare up into the treetops. Each step jolts my frame, triggering pulses of muted pleasure.
As he steps out past the last line of apple trees and into the lawn, a breeze cools my fevered skin, raising goosebumps. If I wasn’t so lethargic from being choked to orgasm, I’d demand to know what the hell he’s doing.
My head flops forward, and my gaze settles on the pond. Water stretches out like a black mirror, reflecting the stormy sky. My insides seize at the memoryof Blanche’s pale face frozen in death, her dark hair fanned out like a shroud.
“No,” I whisper, finding my voice. “Not there.”
Rowland stops walking, his arms pulling me into his warmth. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t take me to that pond. That’s where...” I can’t finish. Can’t say the words out loud. Can’t tell him I don’t want to die like Blanche.
Rowland follows my gaze to the pond and shivers. “We’re going inside.”
Relief trickles through my system like warm honey as he continues past the water toward the manor’s back entrance. When he opens the door and steps into the kitchen, I finally allow myself to relax.
He carries me up to my room, lays me on the bed, and walks into the bathroom. My survival instincts urge me to run, but it feels like the muscles have melted from my bones. I just had the most intense pleasure of my life at the very edge of death.
The pipes groan and shudder as he turns on the water. I gaze through the bed curtains with heavy-lidded eyes, wondering what the hell just happened. If he hadn’t loosened his grip, I would have died. Did he mean to kill me? Why did he spare my life?
Rowland steps out of the bathroom, still naked. Light from the balcony windows carves across his scarred chest. He looks powerful, monstrous, his torture marks reading more like war wounds. After what he just did, it’s impossible to ever see him as a victim.
“Can you stand?” he asks, his voice soft as velvet.
I can’t even shake my head.
When he approaches the bed with his armsoutstretched, I flinch, making him pause. “Annalisa, love, it’s just me.”
That’s exactly what I find so frightening. That switch from prisoner to predator. How much my body reveled in his madness, while my mind recoiled with horror.
He pulls off my shoes, scoops me up into his arms and carries me across the room. “You never need to fear me, love. I’d bleed for you, break for you, rip out my own heart if it made you smile. Whatever you want is yours. Your happiness is the only thing that keeps me breathing.”
The words glide off my consciousness like oil. I rest my head against his shoulder, my body too depleted to protest. Rowland enters the bathroom, cradling me like I’m fragile, lowers me into the tub, and places a kiss on my temple.
Hot water stings the slashes on my skin, making me hiss through my teeth. But as I sink into the heat, steam curls up from the surface, surrounding me in a warm cocoon, and the knots in my muscles unfurl.
Rowland climbs into the tub behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls me against his chest and murmurs, “Come here.”
We sit together in silence, his chest rising and falling against my back. Water laps at the sides of the tub in a relaxing rhythm. After several minutes, my pulse finally starts to slow.
“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs.
