Page 8 of Draco

“I hope you’re proud of yourself. You’re sending me back to my death.”

“You’ll have the best bodyguards in existence.” He gently guided me to a patch of moss and sat me down. Weakness began to spread through me, and I lacked the ability to fight. So I sank down and watched him pull a pouch off his arm. He pulled some tiny wood shavings and a weird-looking bit of metal out of the leather bag.

I watched him move around, gathering up little sticks and bits of wood that had fallen off the trees. “You don’t get it. There isn’t a bodyguard alive that’ll keep me safe.”

He glanced at me with those brilliant blue eyes. “Wrong.”

He didn’t know the danger wasn’t from someone else. It was from within. I’d die rather than let my father decide every aspect of my life from what I had for dinner to who I spent my time with. Never again would he choose what I wore to dinner, what I could or couldn’t see. Never again would he remind me that I should be seen and not heard and that a polite woman bends to the will of the man in her life, be it her father or her husband.

Never again.

He piled the little wood shavings and quickly stroked one bit of metal against the other. A spark bounced onto the shavings, and he did it again, then leaned in and blew on it. Smoke began to curl up in little wisps that scattered as he blew on it. Suddenly a tiny flame leapt to life, and he began to feed it tiny sticks. Within minutes, he had a roaring fire, and the welcome heat radiated over me. Pain filled my fingers and toes as I warmed up.

With fingers that were about as useful as sausage links at the ends of my arms, I worked one shoe off, then the other. He glanced up at me, his eyes narrowing.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Now it’ll swell up, and you won’t get the shoe back on.” He shifted and took one of my feet in his hand, and I resisted the urge to kick him in the face. My whole body tensed up, and he fixed me with a stare that warned me not to try what I was thinking. But how did he know?

Confused, I studied the depths of his opalescent eyes. As the light hit them, they reflected color back, dark around the outer rims of his iris, then lightening up moving toward his pupil to a nearly silvery white. They caught and reflected the light like diamonds, and I almost lost myself in them.

He began to rub my feet with powerful strokes of his long, strong fingers. His thumbs worked my ankles and blood began to flow back into my feet, bringing pin-prickling pain with them. The sensation of a billion tiny, hot needles piercing my flesh made me inhale a sharp hiss of breath, and he hesitated.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked evenly.

I shook my head. “No, they just hurt. The feeling is coming back.”

He continued working on them, and I began to relax and just enjoy the sensations as the pain gave way to mere cold. The cold began to seep out, and finally the heat began to penetrate and sink deep into my bones. He switched feet, and I stared at him. He was handsome, with a heavy brow and those incredible blue eyes. His jaw flared, and his chin was the manly sort I’d expect to see on a guy playing a Disney prince in a live-action film. He could be Gaston, in looks only, and I wouldn’t bat an eye.

His powerful build warned me I could never win a physical altercation against him. He glanced up at me, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he studied me. I had the oddest feeling he knew what I was thinking, but that was impossible.

His full lips twitched, and I glanced at them, wondering what they’d feel like on mine. I’d had plenty of lovers, but something whispered to me that he’d be different than all of them.

A sudden mental image of him leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine filled me and heat tingled through my core. I imagined him touching me, pushing me back on the soft moss and pressing his weight down between my hips. I could imagine him ripping the clothing form my body until I was naked as the day I was born right here under the trees and plunging into me.

I gasped, goosebumps breaking out over my arms as the series of thoughts sent pleasure and arousal screaming through me. I wanted those things to happen. I wanted him to take me.

But he was the enemy.

Fuck, maybe that made it hotter.

His whole body tensed up, and I inhaled. His scent, sharp and masculine, filled my lungs and the acrid scent of fire clung to him and the air around us. The wild scents and surroundings felt like home, and I leaned into him.

I couldn’t trust him. I knew that. But I would lean on him and take any comfort he was offering. I’d been acting strong for so long it wouldn’t hurt to spend a moment in his arms, dreaming of him claiming me out here in the wilderness, would it? After all, he’d saved my life.

Sure, he had his own selfish reasons for it. Five hundred thousand reasons, no doubt, but did his reasons matter? Or did the actions matter? I could pretend, for a second, that I was ignorant of the evil he was. The kind of man that would buy a woman for his own pleasure. And I would simply enjoy him.

“You’re going to let me go,” I whispered. “After all of this is over.”

He shook his head. “No can do, sorry.”

“It’s just money. I just want my freedom.” Though he’d mentioned my dad and bodyguards. Maybe I had him all wrong. Maybe he wasn’t planning on keeping me for himself to live in the cavern house with him as his pretty pet. Maybe he was going to hand me back to my father. The thought had crossed my mind before, that I was his payout, but I’d dismissed it.

Now, I realized that was more likely. Because everyone could be bought. Even this guy. Even the rich. Everyone wanted my father to owe them a favor. Especially now that he was dipping into politics.

“If you won’t let me go, then I’ll escape.”

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