I licked my lips to find them already sensitive. Stryker’s gaze dropped to my mouth and I swear shadows swirled in the dark corners of the room.
Stryker leaned forward and the breath stilled in my lungs. Lifting a hand, he brushed a strand of my thick hair behind my ear and then let his fingers trail along my jaw.
“So soft,” he all but whispered.
We were on the edge of a cliff. I felt it. One step forward and we’d fall over together.
Stars. I never wanted anything more than to take that step.
My eyelids felt heavy, and I let them drop to half-mast. I slanted my head back in silent invitation and heard Stryker’s breath catch.
He moved even closer, aligning our lips so they were only a hair’s breadth apart. So close I could almost taste them, but rather than closing that minuscule space, he held still.
My eyes slid closed of their own accord and I started to tilt my head, too desperate to feel his mouth against mine to wait for him, when I heard an all too familiar click.
I reared back and my eyes snapped open when I felt the cold metal cuff circling my wrist rather than his warm fingers. I was disoriented for only a few seconds and then a churning cauldron of anger boiled over inside, searing away the last vestiges of desire he’d awoken in me.
He’d shackled me to the bed and used seduction to distract me while he did.
“You … youfiend,” I spat, my rage made up of equal parts betrayal and humiliation.
I yanked on it, testing its strength and instantly knew that it would do its job tethering me in place.
I looked back up at him with fire in my eyes. He’d risen to his full height and backed away several steps. To his credit, he didn’t look smug, only resigned.
“Why?” I choked out, hating that my anger was already starting to tip toward sorrow. I glanced away, not wanting him to read in my gaze just how deeply he’d cut me.
“I have to go meet with my men and see if they’ve discovered anything,” he said. His voice stoic and even. Cold. I flinched at the tone as if I’d been slapped and I heard his slight intake of breath.
“I can’t—” he started, a hint of warmth in his voice.
I looked up at him when he didn’t go on and saw the conflict written on his face.
“I would have stayed here if you’d asked,” I said, letting him see the truth of my words in my eyes.
His brow pinched and something deeper, more raw than indecision fell over him. It felt for a moment like he warred with himself, but then one side won.
Throwing his shoulder’s back he looked down on me with a coldness that chilled me. “No. Women aren’t to be trusted. I can’t have you running off to betray me.”
Women aren’t to be trusted.Where didthatcome from?
But then my gaze tripped over the scars on Stryker’s face, reminding me of a time he had put his trust in a woman, and what it had cost him.
Hatred for the woman who betrayed Stryker rose up in my heart,for she hadn’t just left scars on his face, but on his heart as well. I was seeing them now.
“Your gift is too valuable to me,” he went on. “I can’t take the risk that you’ll flee. I’ll be back before first light. You can rest here.”
It felt like he’d pierced my chest with an ice pick. My gift was what was valuable to him. Not me, but my gift and what I could do for him.
I’d started to truly care for this man, but all he saw when he looked at me was a means to an end. That more than stung, it cut.
Turning away from him, I wrapped my arms around myself as I curled on my side, facing the wall. I held on tight, feeling like Stryker had just sliced me down the middle and that if I let go, I’d break apart.
“Aribella,” he whispered, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean—”
“Just go,” I said, cutting him off. I wanted to be alone now. “I’ll be here. Your captive little truth witch to use as you see fit.”
Stryker didn’t leave right away. He stood in the middle of the room for several more minutes, silent. I curled into a tighter ball, wishing he would go already so that I could let myself fall to pieces.
