Page 101 of Savage Hearts
He releases me, springs from the bed, and strides out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
A few seconds later, another door slams, and he’s gone.
I spend the day in a daze, shuffling from room to room like a zombie. I can’t concentrate. Without a television or computer, I feel like time is standing still. I’m confused, restless, and emotional, unsure what I’m supposed to do about what happened, nervous about what will happen when he comes back.
By the time Mal comes home late that night, I’m a mess.
I needn’t have worried, though, because he’s returned to pensive caretaker mode.
The animal is back in its cage.
“You’re still awake,” he says, standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
I’m sitting in the big leather chair, thumbing through a book I can’t read because it’s in Russian. I set it aside and look at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He’s holding several large white paper bags with handles, like the ones from a department store. He sets them on the floor and removes his coat, throwing it onto the desk chair.
“I brought you some clothes. Shoes. Other things, too.”
He gestures to the bags. Hopefully, my sanity is in there somewhere.
“Thank you.”
I’m stiff and uncomfortable, unsure what to say.
He stands still for a moment, watching me, then unexpectedly kneels in front of my chair. Grasping my wrists in his hands, he pulls me toward him.
When my face is inches from his, he searches my eyes. Then he murmurs, “Now you’re afraid of me. Good.”
“Why do you want me to be afraid of you?”
His answer is gentle. “Because you should be. Because it will keep you alive.”
“These whiplash mood changes of yours are all very exhausting. By the way, I’ve been thinking.”
“NowIshould be afraid.”
“That’s not funny. I asked you how long you were going to keep me here. Your answer was ‘As long as it takes.’ As long aswhattakes?”
A small shake of his head is my only answer. His refusal makes me angry.
“I deserve an explanation.”
A muscle in his jaw slides. His green eyes flash. “I’ll decide what you deserve. And when you get it.”
Oh, the innuendo there is hair-raising. I don’t let it distract me. “Why did you bring me here? Why did you save me? Why have you bothered doing anything you’ve done since we met? What’s theplan,Mal?”
“The plan is none of your business.”
“This is my life we’re talking about!”
In his wolfish growl, he says, “Your life was forfeited when Declan killed my brother. Your life belongs to me now.”
Our gazes are locked, unblinking, and furious. Electricity crackles through the air.
Refusing to be intimidated by him, I keep my voice cool and even. “So I’m your slave. You own me. Is that what you’re telling me?”
His eyes grow hot. He licks his lips. He likes the idea.
