My brain went fuzzy at his declaration.
To that, I didn’t have an answer.
He was right.
Did I really want to risk returning home?
Granted, I don’t think I had that choice anymore, even if he were giving me the illusion of one.
An icy chill replaced the comfort from his palm as he removed it, gesturing toward the door.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
Interesting way to say cage, but I followed him through the eerily quiet halls, the path different from the one I had taken when I first arrived. Plush rugs lined the polished hardwood floors while family photos hung on the walls. It almost looked like a normal home.
Distant voices carried up from the lower floors, and I strained to listen, but couldn’t make anything out.
Soon, we stopped in front of a door, and the reality of my situation sapped the final dredges of my bravery. I clasped my fingers at my waist, sucking in a slow breath.
“What about all my things?”
“What do you need?”
The abrupt response took me aback. I expected him to brush me off, to tell me I should be thankful that he hadn’t lodged a bullet in my back.
“All my clothes,” I started, and then stopped. I never had much. Outside my wardrobe, I had a few well-worn copies of books, my pathetic nesting materials and toys for my heats. “Never mind,” I rushed to add.
A dark crimson blush burned my cheeks as I looked away from his intensity. The weight of his alpha pressed down on me, his intoxicating scent demanding that I let him care for me. To tell him what I needed.
I dared to meet his gaze, and the severity in it made my chest tighten. Two massive hands landed on either side of my face, caging me between him and the door. Slick coated my thighs. Instead of rebuffing his movements, I perfumed, my scent washing over us like a spring rain.
Darkness crept in, eclipsing the jeweled hues of his eyes untilnothing of the Irishman remained, his alpha entirely in control.
“Omega,” he breathed, his nose dragging along my clavicle. I mewled, fighting between the instincts that told me to drop to my knees and my brain, which told me to shove him away. “You should go to bed.”
The hazy ridges around my vision blurred, unable to focus. An arm slipped around my lower back, supporting me as he pushed open the door. Once I was stable on my feet, he released me. A hiss whistled through his teeth.
“I will make sure you have everything you need. Now go.”
His silky demand hovered on the edge of a bark, and my feet moved of their own accord. I stepped over the threshold, and the door clicked behind me, locking me in my tomb.
Frozen, I didn’t move as I scanned over the room.
Objectively, it was lovely.
Two massive windows flanked an enormous bed covered in fluffy blankets and pillows. Evening sunlight illuminated the room in a glow that did nothing to help the icy tendrils of fear splintering out from my breasts.
I crawled through the space, running my fingers over the lacquered wood and plush fabric.
On the far side of the room sat an attached bath. A separate shower and tub filled the space as the smooth marble twinkled in the filtered light. I toed off my flats, hating how luxurious the carpet was beneath my feet.
Eventually, I collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball.
I grabbed a pillow, inhaling the clean smell. The last of my strength cracked, and tears bled into the silken sheets.
It was a pretty prison, but a cell was still a cell, no matter how many throw pillows it had.
Four
