Page 68 of Demons

For the first time since opening my eyes, fear trickled in. Why was I here if he meant me no harm? He knew he couldn’t keep me here forever. Someone would find me. But what if his plans weren’t forever? What if he would go back home, but … but I didn’t?

I swallowed as I looked at his painfully handsome face. As sinister as I had known he was and as twisted his soul must be, I had let him get close to me. He’d been in my house in the middle of the night, for God’s sake, and I’d never asked him how he’d gotten inside. I had let him in my bed. Between my legs. Was I in need of counseling? What was wrong in my head?

“Let’s go eat. I don’t have your favorites, but I didn’t plan on this. You forced my hand. If I had known I needed to prepare the cabin for you, then it would have been stocked properly.”

His large hand wrapped around my much smaller one, and he pulled me up. I went willingly. Fighting him seemed like a bad idea. I didn’t want to die up here. I didn’t want to die at all. Did he have that in him? To kill me?

“You’re trembling, little doll,” he said, studying me.

Yes, I was trembling. I was in a cabin up in mountains I had never been to, and no one knew where I was. Oh, and I was alone with a psycho.

“Thatcher,” I said softly, not wanting to ask things to set him off. “Are you planning on … on hurting me?” I couldn’t bring myself to say murder or kill.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, and the corner of his lips quirked, but he didn’t smile. “I’ve been punishing those who hurt you for years. I protect you. I’d never hurt you.”

Okay, yep, he was crazy. That was not a sane thing for someone to say. He’d been punishing those who hurt me? What? He barely knew me. Until two months ago, I hadn’t seen him in seven years. Then, he was everywhere.

He reached up and ran a finger under my chin, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a flutter in my stomach from his caress. I had to keep my head on straight. Nothing about this was okay.

“You need food.”

I didn’t argue with him. I let him lead me out of the bedroom and into a wide hallway with three more doors before we made it to a spacious, open area. To the right was a living area with a massive bearskin rug that I really hoped wasn’t real, two oversized brown leather sofas, and burgundy recliners, along with a flat screen on the wall. To the left was the kitchen. A long bar separated the two. Black marble countertops and grayish-blue cabinets. A table that could sit six with a fridge that seemed big enough to keep enough food to feed an army.

“I made your burger the way you like it,” he told me, motioning at the table, where two plates were already filled.

How did he know how I liked my burger? It wasn’t normal, and I doubted he could guess. I tried to think of a time I’d eaten one in front of him, and I couldn’t.

“The ice water is free of any sedatives. I promise.”

“And the food?” I asked because it was a legit concern.

He chuckled. “And the food as well. I have you all to myself now. I don’t want to sedate you, but if you pass out from multiple orgasms, I can’t help that.”

I swung my focus from the table to look up at him. He was grinning as he walked over to pull out a chair for me. I stood there, staring at him. I wasn’t letting him give me any orgasms. Even if hearing him say it made me slightly damp. My body did not understand that he was insane. It just wanted to feel what it knew he could do to it.

“Sit down, little doll,” he said.

“Why do you call me that?” I asked instead. “And how did you get into my house?”

These were questions I should have asked him before. Maybe I wouldn’t be here if I’d been more aware of the things he’d done that were red flags. Him calling me little doll had made me feel special. But it was an odd thing to call someone.

He moved the hair from my shoulder back as his gaze drifted over my neck until it made its way up to meet my eyes. “You don’t like it when I call you that?” he asked in a deep voice.

Well, yes, I had liked it a lot, but now that I knew the rumors about him were more accurate than I’d realized, I wasn’t sure I was okay with the nickname he’d given me. Even if the way he was looking at me right now with his dark eyes, hooded by long, thick lashes, like he was thinking naughty things, made warmth in my body spread and breathing a little difficult.

I swallowed hard and tensed as he ran a knuckle over my lips. “I’ve been watching you sleep for a while. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but then you were so fascinating while you dreamed that I kept coming back.”

Oh my God. He had been in my room more than once? I blinked, staring up at him, mixed with horror and—unfortunately—arousal. While I should be more concerned about his being in my house at night, there seemed to be a part of me that liked it.

“How?” I choked out.

The corners of his mouth curled as a devilish gleam lit his eyes. “Sweet little doll, I told you I’d been protecting you for years. You wanted your own place, and your mother took that from you. I fixed it.”

Hold up. I stepped back away from the warmth of his body and his touch. They were distracting. I had to get this straight because if he was saying what I think he was—no, I had to be misunderstanding.

“How did you fix it?” I asked him.

“I gave you a house.”

---