Page 47 of Marked By Him

“I already told you. You’re dead.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, brows knitting. “Did you send that man to kill me? Why are you doing any of this?”

He doesn’t bother to respond, walking out of the living room. I rush after him, dogging his footsteps down the short hallwayinto his bedroom that’s cramped and small. It’s as barren as the rest of the apartment, with only a bed, a wardrobe and bedside table.

He drags open a drawer and pulls out a folded blanket, a set of clean sheets, and a bath towel, pushing the items into my arms.

His chin juts at the closed door to our left. “That’s the bathroom. If you want to shower, go ahead.”

I glance down at the towel, still stunned.

What the hell is going on?! This can’t be real!

“You’re small enough to fit on the futon in the living room. Get used to it. It will be where you’re sleeping for a while.”

“Wait… this can’t… you can’t be serious?” I stammer, and when he says nothing, I explode. Tossing the armful of linens aside, where they land on his bed, I let out every thought in my head. “You can’t think you’re going to keep me here? Like some… some captive? Are you crazy? Wait, actually… I already know the answer to that! But you can’t do this!”

“The alternative is to kill you. Which option do you want? Choose now, and I will respond accordingly.”

I swallow at the thinly veiled threat, cotton filling my throat.

I’m peering up into the face of the man who marked me. He’s nearly ended my life twice now, but then he changed his mind.

Hesparedme.

And then he’s kissed me. Twice now, so passionately I’m still dazed over an hour later.

There’s something brewing between us that’s intense and complicated. I don’t understand any of it, but it seems neither does Jin.

It seems he’s been thrown off as much as I have. He never planned to spare me; he definitely never planned to kiss me.

Yet he couldn’t help himself. Does this mean it’s possible he’ll someday set me free?

He’s obviously given some kind of lifeline by bringing me here.

I stand opposite him and feel the heat rolling off him. I’m ensconced by the quiet power and dominant energy he exudes, left to admit what I’ve already known.

Jin is undeniably attractive and lethally irresistible.

His dark, almond-shaped eyes drill into me, the rest of his chiseled bone structure distracting. His permanently windswept jet-black hair frames his face, and the muscle in his jaw is taut and clenched.

I take in the dozens of tattoos that cover his arms, his hands, his neck. All so unique, vivid and vicious, just like Jin himself. Things like tigers, fiery flames, sacred temples, and other Korean symbols.

My heart flutters so fast in my chest that I question if he can hear it. If he can pick up on how my body responds to his, heat flooding through me. Even the flush that warms my cheeks. I’m damn nearblushing.

“Okay… fine,” I murmur finally. “I guess I’ll take my shower.”

I rush for the door he said was the bathroom and quickly snap it shut. The breath I’ve been holding in puffs out of me, the relief that I’ve escaped Jin’s smoldering hot orbit is instant.

…at least for now.

Over the next few days, Jin lays out his rules.

The first—and most important—is that I’m not allowed to leave his apartment under any circumstances. Not to get fresh air. Not to hover by the stairwell in the hall. Not even to step out onto the balcony in his apartment.

“You’re dead,” he reminds. “Dead women don’t show their faces in public.”

His other rules follow quickly. No smart devices. No laptops. No contacting the outside world in any way, shape, or form.

---