Page 96 of Her Wolf

Lady put her head in Cora’s lap, and Cora attempted to pat her. When the dog’s ears pricked up, and her tail began to swish with renewed enthusiasm, Cora looked up.

El Lobostood in the doorway.

He wiped his hands on a dish cloth, and absently draped it over his shoulder as he walked toward her.

Every cell in her body wanted to flee, but instead she just watched him approach. Her lips moved, trying to yell for help, but not a sound left her.

“I see you’ve met Lady,” Zachary said.

Maybe it was just the light in the room that painted such dark smudges under his eyes, but he looked tired.

Her mind raced back to the bloated body on the bed.

No, it wasn’t just the light.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

As if he’d been speaking to it and not Cora, Lady let out a low bark. Zachary’s eyes darted to it, and he tsked the animal under his breath. Then his gaze was back on Cora.

“No,” she said. Her voice sounded like it came from far away. A hollow echo.

Zachary waved a hand at the dirty dishes, the unswept floor, the stained carpet. “My apologies for the state of the place—I had to fire my employees.”

“Oh.” The voice was hers, but she definitely wasn’t in control of it. If she had be, she’d be screaming at this calm, tired man to let her go. To tell her what he wanted with her.

But she already knew.

She wasn’t bound—which meant he was comfortable in the knowledge that she couldn’t run away. They’d driven far, but they were probably still in America. Did that mean he was confident no one would find her?

A tear slid down her face, but both the salty liquid and the cheek it trailed down belonged to someone else.

“All of them?” she asked.

“They weren’t performing, you understand?” Zachary said, coming closer. He wore a button up shirt with beige-colored slacks. The shirt’s long sleeves had been rolled up to mid-arm. The skin of his left arm was disfigured with the marbled scars of burn marks. The right had been bound with a bandage, now stained with blood.

So she had cut him. Not that it mattered. Nothing she ever did mattered. She was weak, and pathetic. An idiot who’d assumed she was untouchable. Unbreakable.

“That’s sad,” her robot voice said.

“It is,” Zachary agreed, with a bob of his head. Then, through a sigh, “It really is. But, at least we have some privacy.”

Was that why he’d brought her here? To fill this large, empty house? Maybe he was lonely, despite his two dogs. Despite the body in the bed.

“Who’s sleeping?” she said.

“What?” Zachary came to a stop a foot away from her and tilted his head, as if confused by the question.

“In the bed.” Why couldn’t she stop talking? She didn’t want to know who was in the bed. She wanted to call for help. Make a run for it.

Would her men ever find her? Had Zachary left a clue that would help them track her down?

But, judging from Zachary’s newly pressed clothes, the careful parting of his brown hair, the intent way he studied her…

El Lobodidn’t make mistakes. El Lobo didn’t leave clues for others to find.

“Is Marco still sleeping?” Zachary asked with a laugh in his voice. “That boy…he loves to lie in.”

“He sure does.”

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