Page 19 of His Darkest Desire

The bathroom door slammed shut, startling her. When she looked back, he was gone.

She blinked. “…you?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Glaring at the door, Kinsley growled through bared teeth, raised her arms, and slammed them down in frustration—splashing water in her own face. That only angered her further. She grasped the hem of the nightgown and wriggled as she peeled it up over her head. Once it was off, she wadded it into a ball and rose onto her knees.

“Asshole!” She hurled the nightgown across the room.

It struck the door with a splat before plopping onto the floor.

With a huff, Kinsley sat back down, closed her eyes, and tipped her head back. Water lapped against the tub walls and spilled over them to patter on the moss below. She didn't know whether to be relieved or angrier that the door didn't crash open so her inhuman host could storm in and admonish her for her tantrum.

Calm down, Kinsley. You’ll gain nothing by being angry.

But what the heck was she supposed to do?

Everything she knew about the world, about reality itself, told her this had to be a dream. Magic and monsters weren’t real. People couldn’t…couldn’t get impaled by tree branches and wake up totally fine the next day. You couldn’t just reappear at the place you had started from regardless of what direction you’d walked in.

And she couldn’t…

Her hand dropped to settle low on her belly. Over her…her womb.

The one thing this monster wanted was the one thing she could not give him.

Anguish lanced her. Tears pricked her eyes, and her lower lip trembled. She pressed her fingers against her belly and bowed her head until her nose almost touched the steaming water. A quiet sob escaped her.

What if she hadn’t survived the accident? What if she had died, and this was some sort of purgatory? The forest had overgrown her car like it had been there for months, and the voices she’d heard in the fog had been people, she knew it. But she hadn’t been able to understand them, hadn’t been able to reach them. And the deeper she’d delved into the mist, the more it had hurt.

Tears slid down her nose to drip into the water below.

What was she going to do? Running didn’t work. Every time she’d tried, she was transported back to this damned cottage. Whether she was dead or alive, there was nowhere for her to go. She was…trapped.

Kinsley sniffled and opened her eyes. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t dead, knew this wasn’t a dream. It was all very real, but the rules of her world didn’t apply here.

And the only way she would get answers…was from him.

Releasing a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes once more and splashed her face, washing away her tears. She needed to be strong.

Kinsley sat up and peeked at the door. Still closed. Yet she could sense him waiting on the other side.

“You got this, Kinsley,” she said quietly.

Picking up one of the bottles from the side of the tub, she removed the lid and gave it a tentative sniff. It smelled of musk and amber, spicy and sensual.

It smelled like him.

She replaced the lid and set the bottle down a little more roughly than she’d intended.

Okay, so maybe it had been intentional…

She picked up another bottle and tested its scent. This one was fresher, reminiscent of rain. Much better.

Using the soap, Kinsley scrubbed away the mud and green stains from her skin and washed the dirt and debris from her hair. Tiny twigs and bits of leaves soon floated atop the water. When she was done, she rose and carefully climbed out of the tub, stepping onto the wet, soft moss. She grabbed a towel from the shelf, dried herself, and wrapped it around her body.

She stared at the door, chewing her bottom lip, as she considered her predicament. Was she just supposed to parade on out of the bathroom in a towel?

Remember, Kinsley? You don’t need clothing for what he has planned for you.

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