He barked a laugh, hoarse and deep. “Even if it did,” he said, gazing at her intently as he tilted her face up with just his thumb. “Do you really think, for even one second, that a door would be enough to stop me?”
So that’s what this is, she thought, fearful and disappointed and relieved, all at once. This was just a game to him. As soon as she surrendered, he’d notch his belt and turn her loose. Probably she should just give into him now and have done with it, but as she stared up into his strange eyes and watched him watch her, she felt completely unable to move.
“I would come to you, little sparrow.” The pad of his finger traced her lower lip. “Would you want me to?”
Desire cracked through her like white-hot lightning. She could imagine how it would be. That was the worst part. The suggestive taunts that made her feel clumsy and hyper-vigilant, the soft touches that could spring like a trap—they painted a very vivid picture of what it would be like to fuck him, yes. He would not be nice or gentle, but he would be good, and he would gore her heart like any other trophy in this place just as soon as he was done playing with it.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Just like a little bird.”
And then he bent to kiss her, leaning forward with a deeply satisfied sound as he brought his hands up, sliding her shirt with it, until it was all rucked up around her ribs, and his hand was covering one of her breasts. Nadine made a noise when he tweaked her nipple, which made him do it again, harder, fumbling with the lace cup to expose her to his eyes.
She took a step back and he growled and kissed her deeper, pushing her back against the wall. This, she knew, was the sort of kiss that ended in dark rooms and tangled sheets. They were in a dark room, so they were halfway there already, and the sheets were but a few paces away. Nadine let out a frightened sound at the drag of his zipper and suddenly felt hard, hot flesh as he took her hand and made her cup him.
Oh god, she thought, staring up at him in glazed shock, her hand inside his slacks.
“That’s all because of you.” The words were almost as shocking as the daunting way he was filling her hand. When she didn’t speak, he thrust into her grip, and stepped closer, caging her against the wall. “Still want to torture me, Nadine? I might have some suggestions.”
Her fingers flexed involuntarily and he let out a rough breath as she felt the throb of him against her palm. His skin was smooth as hot silk, with a raised tracery of veins that made him shudder when her fingers ran over them.
He’s just using you.
And he thinks you’re using him, too.
“I—”
Nadine flinched back from him, an ugly feeling rising up inside of her that felt like shame but worse because his assumption of her sexual availability felt both like ridicule and a slight. When she ducked under his arm, she stumbled into the open doorway, tripping over the threshold and into her own bedroom, breathing like she’d just run a marathon.
Hazarding a glance over her shoulder, she saw him resettling his belt, looking so affronted that in any other context, one where she wasn’t feeling quite so awful, it might have been funny. But though the look he gave her was like a knife to the throat, his words were deceptively mild when he said, “Eventually, I’m going to get tired of letting you run.”
Nadine pushed her tangled hair out of her face and realized, only after she did, that it was the same hand he’d made her touch him with.
She lowered her hand to her side and saw him track it. “I’m sorry you thought I wanted that,” she said stiffly. “I really did just want to see the house. And now, I’d, ah, l-like to see the garden. Please.”
“Oh, you would, would you?” His tone was grimly amused. “I suppose I did promise to behave. More fool I.”
With those ominous words, they left the dark little hallway, and went out through his bedroom door this time. No curious staff lingered in the halls, much to her relief, and when he shot her another glance, Nadine ducked her head.
He hates you now.
“Relax, sparrow,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I’m a patient hunter.”
A chill rippled down her spine.
Their steps carried them past the parlor. Nathaniel was in there, reading his paper, though his eyes followed them over the top of it. “Taking her out into the woods, are you?”
“No, the garden, actually.” Cal’s response was casual but there was an edge to it.
“Just don’t let her get away from you.” Nathaniel shook his paper out. “She’s a quick little thing. You should have seen her run last night.”
Cal put his hand on her lower back, giving her a nudge towards a door with a beautiful inset glass design set inside one of its panels. “Through here,” he said, and his voice was as light as his grip was leaden, as his fingers bit into her shoulder like iron clamps.
“I expect I’ll see you at dinner,” Nathaniel called out after them. “You are family, after all.”
Cal muttered something under his breath as they walked into what must have been the solarium. As Corrine joked at the wedding, though, there was nothingsolarabout it; it was the darkest, gloomiest room Nadine had seen so far, and it washumid, too. The muggy heat of the room gripped her like a hand around her throat.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
