Page 13 of Bound By Thorns

Still, I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her bare form. She wasn’t wearing any t-shirt. Covered in just a white bra and tiny black shorts. It was time thatIdrank her in, caressing the soft curves of her body.

She squirmed under my touch and a faint moan escaped her lips that had my cock throbbing.

Lord, forgive me. I’m craving the enemy.

She moved and our limbs entangled even further. Her leg brushed against my cock and it drew to life. I knew she was half awake at this point.

“Kaylan,” I groaned and immediately realized that this was the first time I had said her name in years. It didn’t feel strange, though. Her eyes flicked open and she looked up to meet my gaze. The heat in them had me feeling things I shouldn’t. I was sure she could see past the anger and uncover the very desire I had for her in that moment.

But then she jolted up, almost kneeing me in my balls, and climbed out of the bed. My body mourned the loss almost immediately. She averted my gaze and quickly put her t-shirt back on, constantly eyeing the door.

“Where am I?” I asked as I sat up holding my head from the sudden dizziness.

“The infirmary.” She mumbled.

I sighed and looked around. This was the first time I was in a place that wasn’t my cell or the torture chamber. There was sufficient light in here. The bright walls were lined with tables and cabinets storing God knows what. I was lying there, on the lone bed, my feet covered with a warm damp towel.

“What country are we in?” I pressed.

Her head snapped up and she looked at me with wide eyes. She stayed silent for so long that I concluded she wouldn’t tell me. Why would she?

I was a fool to think that the moment of closeness we shared affected her as much as it did me. But I was clearly wrong. She wouldn’t help me. She could never be an ally, regardless of our past occupation.

She hurried over to the cabinet behind her and snagged a bottle of pills.

“Take this if you catch a fever or start shivering again,” she handed the bottle to me and looked at the wall clock. “It’s almost 1700 central. I should leave.”

I scoffed, “Late for dinner with Garret, I presume.”

She frowned at me, but I saw a hint of pain in her eyes. She blinked and then left. Moments later, two men arrived to escort me back to my cell.

Kaylan

Not here. Not now. Not yet.

He didn’t get it! I purposely told him the time zone and he brushed past it, and jumped to anger. If he’d been listening, he’d know that we were in the central time zone. Possibly still in North America. But that was as far as I knew too. I didn’t know what country we were in either. Martha had hinted at the time zone the same way when I had arrived here.

But nobody would tell me anything beyond that.

I ran to the kitchen and sat down at the counter, burying my face in my hands. My mind drifted to Logan’s gentle touch when his hands brushed against my back. It felt as though he wanted to touch me, feel me. I remembered his hard length digging on my thigh.

I was sure I didn’t imagine that. I could weep for the way he said my name. His hoarse, seductive groan had me undone. I was so close to kissing him.

“Are you okay, miha?” Martha asked softly.

The term made my head snap up.Miha?Martha had never called me that before. It was always Kay or Kaylan. The unfamiliar word set off a cascade of thoughts, my mind spinning with hidden meanings until, absurdly, I wondered if we’d somehow ended up in Mexico.

“I’m fine, Mar,” I said, shaking my head, trying to ground myself in the moment.

She didn’t look convinced. Instead, she grabbed a glass, filled it with grape juice, and slid it across the counter toward me.

Picking it up, I smirked faintly into the glass. “I could do with something stronger.”

Martha’s expression turned stern, the kind that always made me feel like a child under her watchful eye. “You can’t,” she said firmly. Her voice softened, dropping to a whisper as though saying it aloud would make it more real. “It’s not good for… the baby.”

Her words landed like a blow. My grip tightened on the glass, and I winced, as though her hope alone could carve open wounds I’d long since buried. A baby. As if this could ever be my baby.

Even if I wanted to keep it—and God help me, I didn’t even know if I did—I knew it wasn’t in the cards. My body had never been mine. My choices had never been mine. And this? This was no different.

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