Page 130 of Her Wolf

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“You need to eat something.” Zachary’s voice roused Cora from the blank slate that had become her mind.

A tray slid over the table. Mouth-watering smells wafted over to her—crisp bread, creamy pasta, red wine—but her stomach clenched at the thought of eating.

She sat on the beach house’s porch. It faced a wide expanse of beach front.

Waiting. That’s what she was doing. Waiting for the perfect moment.

She’d already planned her escape. While Zachary had been in the kitchen, she’d taken small, inconspicuous glances up and down the coastline.

Half a mile away, a tangle of jungle-like vegetation had encroached on the sandy beach. Less than a yard in, darkness beckoned.

It would be a hard run, and she wasn’t exactly an athlete, but she knew she could make it.

She would make it. She had to. There was no other choice.

Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of her life here, with Zachary.

The cottage was beautiful, of course. The beach as idyllic as that on a travel brochure.

If it had been any of her men here with her, she would have thanked Santa Muerte for blessing her with just a wonderful life.

But Zachary presence left the feel of sticky oil on her skin.

Nearby, Lady lay curled in a ball, watching the waves ebb and flow. Had the dog been here before that she was so relaxed? Or was that because of how weak she was?

Cora tried to feel sorry for the dog, but then she might start feeling sorry for herself too and that was a slippery fucking slope, one she refused to go down.

They were both trapped, but one of them, at least, had the desire to break free. To escape. As soon as—

“Eat!” Cutlery rattled as Zachary’s fist slammed down on the distressed wood table. “I won’t have you fainting on me.”

Fainting?

Cora lifted a fork and toyed with a strip of fettuccine.

Was it poisoned? Drugged?

Her mind didn’t feel right. Everything was soft, and insubstantial. Touching a thought made it dissipate, like puffing on a dandelion. Fragments of her mind fluttered away, beautiful in their flight but lost forever.

Escape.

That was what she had to remain focused on.

Escape.

She dropped her fork, and lifted the wine glass to her lips. The first sip made her tongue recoil, but she welcomed the trickle of coolness as the wine went down her throat.

“You really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, Eleodora.”

She drew a deep breathe.

Now or never.

“I don’t want this,” she said, pushing her plate away with trembling fingertips.

“It’s all there is.”

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