Page 18 of Pure Vengeance

I have a quick response.

No. I’ll handle it. Just send over the contact information.

A moment later a name, phone and address come through and I put my phone away. It will wait until morning.

There’s something more pleasurable to deal with first.

I scoop my sleeping captive up in my arms, lifting her from the recliner with the blanket. With the caution of a toddler, she wraps her arms around my neck and leans her head into my chest.

“You have no idea the danger you’re really in, do you?” I whisper as I take her from the room. She sighs when I start the climb up to my room, and only stirs a moment when I maneuver through my doorway.

I lay her on the bed, peeling off the fleece blanket tangled around her legs, and take inventory of her beauty.

She showered like I told her to, and she’s changed into a nightgown. The soft satin material rides up her thigh enough for me to see an angry bruise just below her asscheek.

I trail my fingertip along it, pushing the hem of the nightgown up further.

“What are you doing?” She bolts up, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. She pulls up her legs, crossing them beneath her and grabbing the blanket I took from her.

“Checking your ass.” I point to the clock on the nightstand beside her. “It’s after ten. You weren’t where you were supposed to be.”

She rubs the heel of her hand against her eyes. “I fell asleep watching TV.” She pauses, as though she’s only realized she’s not in the media room anymore. “How did I get up here?”

“Magic.” I chuckle and grab my tie, working the knot undone and pulling it from my collar.

“You carried me?”

I ignore the question and head to my closet, making quick work of getting out of this fucking suit. When I return to the room, she’s off the bed tugging the hem of the nightgown down. It’s a long one, hits her just at the knees.

“Where are you going?” I pad across the carpeting to the door, flipping the lock so we won’t be interrupted.

Not that anyone would come running to her aid. It’s for her benefit the lock gets used. She needs to understand her situation.

“I don’t want to stay in here with you,” she says, her hands fist at her sides.

“I didn’t ask.” I take slow, determined steps until the tips of my toes are butted up against hers.

The muscles of her throat work as she swallows whatever protest she was going to make. Her eyes slowly make their way over my chest, the muscles there and then lower to my abdomen—over scars from long-ago fights. When her gaze hits my cock, hard and heavy for her, she stumbles back a step.

I catch her arm, keeping her from falling on her ass.

“Your shoulder. You need to be careful, so you don’t tear your stitches.” She twists her arm out of my grasp. I let her go.

“You care about hurting me now?” I laugh. She’s a contradiction. When her arousal hits, she forgets how she found herself here in my house.

She frowns. “What do you want from me, Anton?”

I lower my gaze to her breasts. Her nipples peak beneath the soft blue nightgown.

“Take that thing off,” I say.

“Why?” She tightens her jaw.

“I’m pretty sure you know why.”

“You’re going to hurt me again?”

I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. Her pulse beats strong beneath my fingers.

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