Page 15 of Captured in Love
Hey. Not to sound morbid, but if anything happens to us… If we don’t make it. Could you contact my father? I can give you his name…
We’ve never shared anything too personal with each other—both to protect ourselves and the project we’re working on. The three dots in the texting app blink for a long time before she writes back.
Ok, full disclosure. I totally hacked your name a while ago. I’m sorry. I’m just in a really weird position where I couldn’t afford to trust a stranger. So. Yeah. I can contact your dad if you want. I hope it doesn’t come to that, though. Good luck. xo, Skye
At that, she signs off, as if she’s afraid of my answer. I stare at the screen, conflicted. It feels like a breach of trust, but knowing some of what she told me from her life with her old coven, I get her issues.
I close my eyes for a second to gauge what my intuition is telling me. Then I tap the screen to type out my response.
Nice to meet you, Skye. I’m glad I passed your security test! I’ll talk to you soon. xo, Nora
There. She’ll see the message when she logs on next, and hopefully, this will be the first step toward building a new level of trust between us. I like Princess—Skye—not just as an ally and partner in crime but as a friend. Even if our friendship started off a bit strange.
The food arrives fifteen minutes later, a tray heaped with smoked salmon slices, blini, grilled lobster, and sautéed baby spinach. I tip the man who brought it, and he leaves, wishing me a pleasant meal. I shut the door with my foot and carry the tray to the coffee table, ready to dig in. The food smells amazing, and the blini look freshly made, still steaming in their little basket.
A knock on the door interrupts my hungry thoughts. A male voice calls out, “Room service.”
Frowning, I head toward the door. Maybe they forgot to bring me napkins? I open the door.
Isak Einarsson stands in front of me, his huge body blocking the doorway.
My breath catches in my throat as a shock of pure adrenaline shoots through my body.
“Hello, Nora,” he rumbles.
Before I can shut the door in his face, he has one foot past the threshold and is shouldering his way in.
“Stop!” I yelp, trying to bodily push him out. “You can’t—”
He takes me by the elbows, lifts me, and carries me inside while I struggle. I kick him in the shins, and he grunts but doesn’t let go.
I’m about to scream, but he puts one big palm over my mouth and shuts the door with his other hand.
“Don’t,” he says. “I won’t hurt you.”
For some reason, his words piss me off more than the manhandling. He won’t hurt me? Okay, but he still forced his way into my private space and didn’t take no for an answer.
I bring my hands up and touch both sides of his neck. The taser spell didn’t work well on him when we’d been dancing in Scotland, but I hadn’t put real effort in it. This time, I’m fully charged and angry, and I’ve had enough of him throwing his weight around.
I let the current zap through my palms, fierce and strong, more than enough to knock out a man. Isak’s body convulses, and he flails away from me, staggering back. His hand leaves my mouth, and I drag in a fortifying inhale, ready to hex him properly if he so much as breathes wrong in my direction.
His back hits the closed door with a dull thud, and I swear the walls of the guesthouse vibrate with the shock. He’s built like a tank, and I can’t let him get his hands on me again—he’s too fucking strong.
Isak groans quietly and rubs his temples. How he’s still standing, I have no idea. He should be lying on the floor, drooling, or maybe pissing himself as his muscles give way under the residual power still coursing through his body. I’d meant to incapacitate him completely, tie him up, and wait for Levi and Raphaël to show up to deal with him.
I’m all about protecting myself, but I know my physical limits. Going up against a man his size alone would be dangerous and stupid.
Something about this man is not normal.
Maybe he’s wearing a protection amulet of some kind, but I don’t want to get close enough to him to frisk him.
“That wasn’t nice,” he says, his pale-blue eyes accusing.
“Neither was barging into my room!”
I take a step back and brace myself for an attack. If he rushes me, I need to evade him. If he gets his hands on me again, I’m toast. The room is on the ground floor, so I could jump out the window. Trouble is, I have no idea how fast he is. He shouldn’t be, given how big he is, but I’m not trusting any more assumptions about him. I glance at the tray of food on the coffee table. Maybe there’s a knife on there I could use? My athame, the ceremonial dagger I sometimes use in my spells for directing energy, is in my bag by the door, so Isak is blocking my access to it.
He must see the panic in my face, because he lifts his large palms in surrender. “I told you, I’m not here to hurt you.”
