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There was a lot to look at. This place was a mansion. Everywhere I looked, opulent furniture filled the rooms and expensive-looking oil paintings with gold leaf frames decorated the walls. At the top of the stairs, a crystal statue of a four galloping horses greeted us. Their manes shimmered like glass.

“This isn’t the end, kitten. Keep moving.”

I couldn’t keep the wonder out of my voice.

“How do you have all thisstuff?”

Gav chuckled.

“One man I brought here tried to bribe me. He had a few million wired to my anonymous bank account. Ended up being very helpful. Right through here.”

I headed down the hallway he’d gestured to, leaning on him a little more than I had to.

“Did you still kill him?” I asked.

“Of course. He’d seen my face.”

I stopped mid-stride.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’veseen your face.”

“Yes, you have,” he said. “But I didn’t bring you here to kill you. Regardless, you’re not leaving anytime soon. You are not leaving ever.”

I looked ahead with a steely gaze.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

“Right in here,” he said, pushing open a large oak door. “Through the bedroom.”

Gav

I watched as she walked into my bedroom. Her eyes darting everywhere, so curious. Her gaze picking across my bedstand, my dresser, my walls. It was strange to see the room as she saw it, with new eyes. I saw myself reflected in her sight: a clean monster. A tidy villain. A serial killer with good taste in linens.

In the bathroom, she rushed to the window and I almost yelled out. She stood there silently, though, her fingers on the sill, looking outside. The pine branches in the nearby forest waves slowly at us.

“It’s a two story drop from this window,” I said from behind her. “Don’t try to escape.”

Why did I have to be the killjoy? The realistic one, always. I’d killed off her fantasies left and right already.

“I won’t,” she said softly, still eyeing the forest beyond the windowsill. “I wouldn’t fit through the window, anyway.”

True enough. My eyes swept down over her backside. Her hips, wide and curving. I longed to run a hand across them. Not yet, though. A long dark smudge of dirt ran down the back of one leg, stopping at the ankle. On closer inspection, she was filthy. That wouldn’t do. She would have to wash up first. Not now, but maybe later.

“Don’t be too long,” I said, closing the door. I heard the lock click shut, then the sound of running water in the sink. I sat on my bed and waited for her to be done. It didn’t take long for the door to click open. She looked back once, longingly, at the trees through the window.

“It’s beautiful outside,” she said.

“It is,” I agreed. Her eyelashes flitted up, dark brown lashes framing dark brown eyes. I called her kitten, but those were a puppy’s eyes: innocent and desirous. They made me want to do terrible things, wonderful things. I grabbed her roughly by her uninjured arm, more roughly than was necessary.

“Back to the basement with you,” I said, shutting the door on the emotions that threatened to seep from the watertight compartment inside of me. I did not want to kill her. I wanted more. So much more than I could ever have.

So much more than I could ever deserve.

CHAPTER NINE

Kat

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