Page 25 of Captured

Fifteen

Bathed in a wash of brilliant sunshine, Lauren lay awake the next morning, glaring at the whitewashed wall of the bedroom, the dark tile gleaming at the edge of a thick white rug. It wasn’t opulent, and it definitely wasn’t the palace of the crown family of Oûros. That was where she should have woken up.

She hadn’t. Instead, she was in a world of wrong.

She had to get out of here.

Sitting up in bed, she swiped for her phone, which was always no more than five feet away from her—and came up with nothing. She bit out a tight curse, remembering the most infuriating part of her predicament. No phone. No money. And she knew virtuallynothingabout this rock where they’d landed. Hadn’t Dimitri said this island was a dive spot? There had to be some sort of Internet café here then, right?

The smell of something obscenely good finally permeated her foul temper, and she turned her head. Bacon? The scent of grilled meat and spices filled the air, and she swiped again for her phone to check the time.

Nope.

No clocks either anywhere in the room, though light poured in from two sides, giving her a stunning view of the pristinewhite sand beach and shockingly blue waters of the Aegean far beyond. Still, none of that could compare to knowing what was actually going on in the world.

“Neanderthals,” she muttered, throwing off the covers. She was wearing her clothes from last night, and as she padded out of her room, she realized the room opposite hers was a tiny bathroom, and there was...nothing else. Just these two rooms tucked up at the top of a narrow staircase. So, a villa, then, not some kind of bed-and-breakfast or inn, which was what she’d assumed the night before. Whose house was it, Dimitri’s? A friend’s? The questions crowded into her mind, but she had no way of answering them. After washing her face and hands in the sink—without a mirror, she noticed, so she also had no way of knowing what she looked like—her stomach insisted she head downstairs to explore the smells of breakfast.

Seconds later, she wheeled into the kitchen, and stopped cold.

Dimitri stood in profile at the stove, his body clad only in loose sweatpants that hung low on his waist. It was the first time she’d seen him anywhere close to partially undressed since that first day on the beach, when he’d been wearing a sweat-soaked T-shirt and shorts. That had been amazing enough, but this…

She stared at the tattoo that covered his shoulder and spread onto his back. A roiling mass of clouds, detailed and inked in a dozen different shades of gray, with the jagged streak of lightning slashing through it?—

“You sleep well?” he asked without turning, and Lauren blinked, trying to get her bearings.

“I—yes. Can I borrow your phone?”

“No service out here.” He waved the spatula. “We’ll head into town later today, and you can make contact.”

“No service?” she turned and looked out the windows that lined the wall. “How is that possible?”

He chuckled, apparently unconcerned. As if a lack of cell coverage weren’t grounds for immediate meltdown. “The island has always been pretty sketchy with phones and Wi-Fi, but tourists don’t seem to mind. We have sat phones for safety, should we need them.”

“Oh—well, give me that, then.”

“That’ll have to wait for town as well, I’m afraid. Phone’s dead, and I don’t have a charging unit here. We left too quickly for me to round up supplies. It’s only us this morning.” He brought the pan over to the table, which she saw had been set for two. “You hungry?”

“No. Yes. Sure.”

His warm laugh rolled through her, setting off whorls of panic within her that she couldn’t quite process. Dimitri wasn’t the threat here. Sure, he was half-naked, but that wasn’t a threat. Really.

She sat at the table, and he served the meal, meat and roasted vegetables and hummus and bread and olives. As he padded back to the sink, she couldn’t help but stare at his back. The tattoo covered only the very top of his shoulder and ended mid-back, and the slashing thing was a trident, cleaving the swirling water as if it’d been thrown from a great distance. Muscles rippled on top of other muscles, and his powerful shoulders tapered down to narrow hips before flaring out again to thighs the size of Thor’s. There was a strange mix of scars as well—nothing terrible, nothing horrifying, but she got the impression that Dimitri’s body had been used, and used well.

He’d used it last night to help protect her.

An unexpected wave of emotion swept through Lauren, startling in its intensity. Dimitri had moved quickly and decisively at the Raptis mansion, pulling her out of danger without any concern for Henry and his money or power. He’d whisked her away to safety, and when they’d stood together onthe boat, he’d held her. Simply held her, surrounding her with his strength and solidity, as if trying to show her that nothing and no one could harm her, not while he was on the job.

She’d let him hold her, too. She’d done it to stoke his attraction, to try to control him, but...but if she was honest, a part of her had simply wanted to be held. A part of her had simply wanted someone strong to stand in the breach with her, to offer a united front against a terror she’d carried around so long that it was like a second skin.

But she couldn’t afford to be weak and needy. Not now. Not ever.

No one else could get hurt because of her.

Lauren managed to return her gaze to her food again before Dimitri turned around and caught her staring, but it was a near thing. And then he sat next to her again, all skin and heat and strength. She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already focusing on the enormous platter in front of him, digging in as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

She picked up a fork and eyed the food, spearing a few vegetables that looked at least reasonably familiar. Since Dimitri was wolfing down his food, she occupied her time with eating as well.

It was...heavenly. Apparently, Dimitri could cook too.

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