“Come here,” I say, patting the empty space beside me. My voice leaves no room for argument. “Tomorrow, we begin your new life.”
She hesitates for a long, agonizing moment, her body trembling. Then, slowly, reluctantly, she walks to the bed. Her movements are stiff, hesitant. She slips under the covers, keeping as much distance between us as possible.
I don’t press her. Not yet. I simply lie there, listening to her ragged breathing, feeling the subtle tension of her body beside mine. She is here. She is mine. And tonight, she will sleep in my bed.
Fifteen
Wynter
Iwakewithajolt,my eyes snapping open. The room is still shrouded in the pre-dawn gloom, but a faint, silvery lightfilters through the heavy drapes. The memories from last night crash over me, a tidal wave of fear and confusion.
Kaden. The bed. His bed.
My body is rigid, every muscle screaming in protest. I’m lying next to him. In his bed. The realization hits me with the force of a physical blow. He’s a warm, solid presence beside me, his breathing deep and even. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, the subtle shift of the mattress with his movements.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. I force myself to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to calm the frantic rhythm. He commanded me into his bed. And I obeyed.
I lie perfectly still, my eyes wide open, staring into the oppressive darkness.How long did I sleep?The room is silent, save for the soft hiss of the gas fireplace, still glowing faintly. I feel disoriented, my body heavy and sluggish. The last vestiges of the wine-induced haze from last night still cling to me.
A fresh wave of fury, cold and sharp, washes over me.He thinks he can manipulate me? He thinks he can drug me into submission?I will show him.
Carefully, meticulously, I begin to shift. Inch by agonizing inch, I try to create more space between us. My leg brushes against his, and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. He doesn’t stir. He’s a deep sleeper. Or he’s pretending.
I manage to roll onto my side, facing away from him. My hand reaches out, searching for the edge of the bed. I need to get up. I need to escape this suffocating intimacy.
My fingers brush against something cold and smooth on the nightstand. My father’s journal. My breath catches in my throat. It’s real. It’s here. A tangible link to a life that feels a million miles away.
I clutch it, a small, desperate anchor in the storm of my fear. It’s a cruel gift. A piece of my past returned to me in my newprison. He knows how much this means to me. He knows my vulnerabilities. He is using them against me.
A soft groan from the bed makes me jump. Kaden stirs. My heart leaps into my throat. I freeze, my back to him, waiting.
He sits up, the mattress creaking softly. I can feel his eyes on me, even though I can’t see them. The air crackles with a silent tension.
“Good morning, Snowflake.” His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, thick with sleep. It’s the first time he’s used that name in the morning, in the intimacy of his bedroom. It feels like a brand. A claim.
I turn slowly, my hands clenched at my sides. He’s sitting up, his dark hair tousled, his powerful chest bare. He looks less like a monster and more like a dangerous, impossibly attractive man. The sight of him, so raw and uninhibited, sends a jolt through me.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, rising in one fluid motion. He walks to the windows, pulling back the heavy drapes, flooding the room with the crisp, bright light of the Alaskan morning. The vast, snow-covered landscape stretches out before us, breathtaking and isolating.
He turns back to me, his gaze intense. “You look well rested.”
He walks to the door, opens it, and gestures for me to follow.
“Come,” he commands. “Breakfast is waiting.”
My resolve, brittle as ice, threatens to shatter under the weight of his gaze. He is a monster, my captor, yet the way he calls me Snowflake sends an unwelcome shiver through me. A dangerous, forbidden part of me, against all reason, feels a flicker of something akin to curiosity, a perverse interest in the rules of this new, terrifying life he has so forcefully imposed.
Sixteen
Kaden
Shehesitates.Aflickerof defiance in her eyes, a slight stiffening of her shoulders. It’s a small thing, barely perceptible, but I see it. I always see it. And it fuels the fire in mygut. She thinks she has a choice. She thinks she has agency. I will disabuse her of that notion.
“Now, Snowflake,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. It’s not a request. It’s a promise of consequences.
Her eyes meet mine, and I see the internal battle raging within her. Fear wars with pride, survival instinct with a stubborn, fragile will. For a long moment, she stands her ground. Then, with a barely perceptible sigh, she moves.
She walks past me, her head held high, her pace steady. She doesn’t look at me, her gaze fixed straight ahead. It’s a small victory for her, a defiant march into her captivity. I allow it. For now.
