Close enough to smell her now.
She smells like fear and something floral.
Jasmine, maybe.
Something they put in her hair.
"You're mine, Eden. For a year, certainly. But I suspect it will be much longer than that."
"I'll run."
The words are immediate. Defiant.
I laugh. I can't help it.
"Yes," I say. "You will."
That surprises her. I can see it in her eyes.
"You'll run," I continue. "And I'll find you. And when I do, you'll learn exactly what happens to things that try to escape me."
I'm close enough to touch her now.
Close enough to see the pulse hammering in her throat.
Close enough to reach out and?—
But I don't.
Not yet.
Anticipation is half the pleasure, and I'mverygood at delayed gratification.
"Come," I say, stepping back. Giving her space. "We have a long drive ahead of us."
I turn toward the door. Unlock it. Hold it open.
Wait.
She doesn't move for a long moment. Just stands there by the window, clearly weighing her options.
There are no options, but I'll let her think there are.
For now.
Finally, she moves.
Walks toward the door on bare feet, the white dress whispering against the floor.
She pauses when she reaches me and looks up.
God, she's small.
The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder.
Something primitive stirs in my chest.
Something possessive and protective and entirely inappropriate given the circumstances.
