Page 5 of Savage Hunter

Sun-warmed marble guides me past my mother’s nurtured rose garden, her priceless statue collection of finely sculpted figures in illicit poses and into the night.

High winds play in the flickering flames, causing them to dance wildly. I take that spirit, pull it inside me and push deeper into the darkness.

Another ten feet and the path ends at the entryway to the guest suites tucked behind towering hedges. Stone figures watch over the entrance delicately cut into the lush shrubbery. High above me, their chiseled fingers touch as if trying to reach for the forbidden, yet held back by uncontrollable circumstances. For them, their stoney composition, for me the rock hard will of an unmovable parent.

I sigh deeply, take one last glance over my shoulder and for the first time in my intricately controlled life I let impulse carry me forward.

Despite knowing I am on the cusp of earning my mother’s approval, I am driven to this moment. Fate, lust and stupidity—a mixture of all three—has placed me outside his door. I’m dressed like a virgin and about to offer myself up not as a sacrifice, but as a sample of what can be. For him and myself. I’m tired of being the quiet, obedient daughter who never challenges the restraints holding me back.

Fuck that. Maybe I crave change more than I realized.

Trembling fingers curl around a smooth brass handle. In my dreams, this is what I’ve wanted. Now that I am here, it’s all I can do to keep from running away. I guess bravery can only carry me so far.

I ignore the sudden trip of my heart and the way it tumbles to lie at my feet. I don’t need it for this next part, anyway.

I press the lever and slide inside. Not until the door is firmly behind me and closed do I let myself breathe again. It’s only a few seconds. Two at most, but it feels like I haven’t drawn air for a solid five minutes when I breathe in his scent. I swear it wraps around me like a wanted embrace.

It’s a rich, masculine combination entwined with ruthless savagery. I know because I’ve seen what happens when someone breaks his rules. They get hurt.

That level of brutality clings to the aura of a man like Wolfe.

Cool artificial air moves over my heated skin. Several seconds pass before I can make out the various objects thrown in stark black and grays. A sofa, priceless art on the walls, and a small kitchenette.

And a door to the bedroom that stands ajar.

My mother believes in giving those under her command the full benefit of her money. “It’s how you keep them loyal,” she once firmly stated to my father. She hasn’t changed in the five years since his passing.

This suite carries hints of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Various shades of blues and blacks with hints of gold touch everything. In the daytime, it’s a beauty to behold and a pricey replica adorns the wall three feet from where I stand.

But I’m here for another form of art.

Seeing no source of light toward the bedroom, I stray from the front door and make my way to the sliding door opposite of me. Sheer curtains sway in the sea breeze. Beyond it a large balcony beacons me. Spears of moonlight catch on the rippling water. I step closer. Not only for the beautiful nighttime view, but the source of cologne. Bare feet carry me over marble that changes to warm stone once I’m outside. I lean on the thick railing twined with tiny roses, all too aware of the figure resting on the lounge to my left. He stays still in the darkness, but I can feel his energy as if his hands were on my body.

I tip my head up, bathe in the moonlight, and wait.

It’s the shift in that same energy I feel first, then his possessive hands.

“Ms. Primrose.”

Heat scorches over my body, followed by embarrassment at breaking into his private suite unbidden.

Please don’t let him turn me away.

My fingers grip the edge of the stone balustrade until I feel grounded enough to speak.

“Mr. Carter. I knew you would come back.”

A pause.

“Do you think I returned for you?”

Deep, husky. His voice is as sensual as the man it belongs to. The vibrations of the low timbre run through me like honey poured over sun-drenched leather.

I swallow hard, admittedly scared of being rejected.

My breath leaves me in a rush. “Yes.” I say, but don’t dare turn around.

The feeling of power surrounds me, and it’s intoxicating as it brushes over my senses.

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