I started making my way toward the shore, my heart racing. I still couldn’t believe I cared but the truth was that if anything happened to him, how would I get off the island? I dove into the water again, taking stroke after stroke toward the shore.
The second I was lifted out of the water into the air, I couldn’t help but squeal. I should have known the man was… teasing me.
Oh, God. He had a playful side?
He spun me around, his smile mischievous. “Miss me, darlin’?”
“You are such a bastard.” This time, I was cooing the nasty comment.
“So you’ve said.” He slowly brought me down into his arms, pressing the weight of his body against mine. That’s when I realized he’d removed his clothes. I immediately pushed against him as he spun me around in a circle. Sadly, the electric pull toward him was even stronger than before, the strange need I’d felt inexplicable.
But here I was, wrapping my arms over his shoulders, tangling my fingers into his hair like we were lovers. It was a strange feeling being more comfortable in his arms.
He spun me around in the water again, the slight smile he was wearing far too engaging.
“Tell me who you are, Styx Saint, other than a damaged, dangerous man.”
“Why do you think I’m damaged?”
The answer was shockingly simple. “Because it takes a person who’s had their spirit nearly crushed to understand the horrors another has experienced, to see them clearly through a fog of their own.”
There was that moment, the one everyone was searching for no matter who they were or what money they made, where they connected with someone. Really connected. As twisted and odd as it seemed, this was that moment with my captor.
My protector.
I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, uncertain where this was going but the rush of excitement was a clear indication I wanted to find out. Did that make me a sad, vulnerable individual? Maybe. But he was right in that the life I’d been living had been like a well-trained seal, doing everything I was told to do.
Did that make this right? No. But being in Styx’s arms I felt safe. Maybe that was the craziest thing of all.
He pulled my legs around him, holding on yet allowing me to feel freer than I had before, including in the shower. Maybe this is what psychiatrists who were paid the big bucks would call the beginning of Stockholm syndrome. However, they hadn’t been in our shoes or lived our lives.
“Did he beat you?” I asked as he lowered his head until our lips were almost touching. I’d seen scars on his body, although not nearly as horrific as the one on his face. The whip marks had made me shudder although they’d been long since healed.
“Yes.” The single word was said without emotion. “Did yours?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, other than hitting me once in the face, he found other ways of tormenting me.”
The man bristled, his nostrils flaring for an entirely different reason than they had before. “Bastard.”
When I pressed my fingers across his lips, I surprised even myself. “He can’t control me any longer.” Wasn’t that a silly statement to a man who’d taken me hostage?
“I’ll see to it that he can’t.”
“He’s not worth it. Did you know you were on his enemy list?”
His eyes opened wide. “He keeps one and you’ve seen it?”
I nodded, half laughing. “Yes. My father might be good at many things, including subterfuge, but he couldn’t keep me from his locked office or desk. I snooped. I found names of the people he hated or wanted dead.”
“Mmm… You are truly my bad little girl. I feel honored I’m on that list.” He ground his hips back and forth, allowing me to know just how aroused he’d become.
“You have no idea, but your entire family is. From what I know, at least six of your men are dead. A couple recently.” Why not tell him the truth? I had no loyalty to my father. None. I brushed my fingers across the back of his neck, admiring just how gorgeous even his irises were. Where he’d appeared so cold and heartless before, I could see volumes of the life he’d lived, taking risks and enjoying the finer things while hoping for something more.
I knew by instinct he wanted a big, loving family. It was exactly what I’d wished for my entire life. In those few seconds of feeling so close to the man, so in tune with the agony he’d felt, I found myself falling a little bit more under his spell.
“I’ll keep that in mind, my little angel, but I assure you that your father is no match for my power or my influence.”
“I hope not.”