Page 17 of Soul to Possess

I didn’t want to leave this room. Not even for the bathroom. If I had to hold it all night, I would. I stripped off my coat and damp jeans, then slid into the bed, pulling the quilt up to my chin. The pillow was ridiculously fluffy, almost swallowingme whole. Warmth slowly seeped into my limbs, but it didn’t ease the knot in my gut.

Exposed wooden beams stretched across the ceiling. A plain dresser stood in the corner. No photos. No personal touches. Just... furniture. The living room had been arranged like someone wanted to impress a guest. But this room? It felt like it existed for one reason—to house someone you didn’t plan to keep. My eyelids started to droop. I tried to keep them open, to listen for footsteps, breathing, anything out of place— But I was so damn tired. I’d figure out who he really was—and what happened to Marvin—in the morning. If there was one.

Chapter Nine

The knock shattered something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding still. I’d figured the bus wouldn’t be able to make it out here today with the blizzard and all. I’d given up my preparations, fully prepared to have to have a word with Harry and find out when he could figure out another plan.

I stood in the center of my living room, half-dressed, heart a little too steady. I’d spent weeks—months—fine-tuning every invisible string. After I’d heard about the blizzard I’d planned for two more days. Forty-six more hours. Enough time to bleach the floor joists in the basement, dispose of the sculpture that wouldn't dry right, clear out the blood shadows on the porch.

But then she knocked. I didn’t move. Not at first. Not until the second knock came—sharper, less polite. That was the moment I knew Harry had followed through. He brought me someone. But I hadn’t expected her. Not a name I recognized. Not a face I’d studied. Just… her. Unvetted. Uncurated. Wild. Blue lips, ruined shoes, hair whipped up like a storm cloud had dragged her here by the scalp.

And those eyes. Startled, yes. But not empty. No, there wassomethingmoving behind them—like a question trying to form teeth. I opened the door and said the first thing that came to mind, cold and jagged, “Exactly what in the damn hell is a woman doing standing on my goddamn porch in the middle of the night?” The words weren’t shock. They were control. I needed the upper hand, needed her to feel disoriented. I was disoriented.

She didn’t answer. Not right away. And that silence… it unspooled something in me I hadn’t planned for. Curiosity. Hunger. Not the kind I was used to—no, this was different. Shewasn’t a victim. She wasn’t screaming or sobbing or pleading. She was confused.Searching.I slammed the door—not to end it. To reset the tone.

Let her knock again. Let her fight back. When she called me Marvin, I almost smiled. Not because it was funny. But because it meant she had no idea where she was. No idea who I was. She’d been left here by a man she trusted to get her safely to her future. And I was not her future. Not yet.

She gave me a name. Marvin. That told me everything I needed. She thought this place was meant for her. And somehow, some broken part of herwantedthis place. This life. This isolation. I gave her the devil’s choice. She chose me. Didn’t know it—but she did.

And I wasn’t ready for that. Not really. But when she stepped inside, and the wind caught her scent—snow and warmth and fear—I knew one thing for certain: Harry had brought me a gift I didn’t deserve. And I would never let it go. Not because I was grateful. Because I was starving. And she wasmine.

Chapter Ten

I woke up to the sun burning through my eyelids. For a minute—half a second maybe—I forgot where I was. Then it all came rushing back like a freight train slamming into my chest. The cold. The strange man. The knock. The heat of his eyes when he looked at me like I was some kind of puzzle he wanted to pull apart with his teeth.

Shit. I cracked my eyes open against the glare. The curtains were still wide open. Great. Rookie mistake. It had to be past 7 a.m., and the whole room looked like it had been dipped in gold and thrown into a fire. My head ached. My body felt like it had been poured out of a blender and left to congeal. I never woke up this early. Ihatedwaking up this early. Back home, I was a 10 a.m.-with-three-snoozes kind of girl. But this wasn’t home.

And this sure as hell wasn’t Marvin’s ranch. I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my face. A knot twisted in my stomach as last night replayed in slow motion—the wrong name, the wrong man, the wrong everything. A stranger had opened that door. Not the man from the ad. Not the man I’d imagined spending time with. No. This one had eyes like a trap and a voice that curled like smoke under my skin.

And now I had to pee. I cracked open the door, praying to any god who might still be paying attention that he was still asleep. He wasn’t. The scent hit me first—warm, thick, and sweet. Maple, maybe. Or cinnamon. Something homemade and dangerous. The kind of smell that made your brain forget everything else except the need to follow it.

I crept down the hall like a raccoon raiding a trash can, every creak of the old wood floor an accusation. I made it to the bathroom, took care of business, then—like an idiot—didn’t goback to my room. Curiosity was a bitch. His door was wide open. That surprised me. I hesitated in the doorway, peeking in like a thief casing a jewelry store. Everything inside was dark and masculine—wood tones and leather, brass fixtures that gleamed like they’d been polished recently.

His bed was covered in something that looked like an animal pelt. Real fur. Not decorative. Not subtle. The kind of bedspread that saiddon’t touch anything unless you’re ready to bleed. And then I saw the wall. At first, I thought it was some kind of rustic decor—a weird nod to cowboy masculinity or whatever. But the longer I looked, the weirder it got. A paddle. Thick leather straps. Rope. A cane. Handcuffs. Something purple I couldn’t quite identify.

I’d read about things like this. Late at night. Kindle brightness turned all the way down. Stories that walked a tightrope between fantasy and fear. But this wasn’t fiction. It was real.Hewas real. Maybe he was a cop, I thought, absurdly. Or a park ranger? Something with authority. Something that might explain the cuffs. But it didn’t explain the rope. Or the look in his eyes when he first opened the door last night.

I took another step in before my common sense could strangle me. The bedside table. Just one drawer. I shouldn’t have opened it. I did. Notebook. Pen. Wallet. I reached for the wallet with shaking fingers, some part of me desperate to put a name to the danger I’d stumbled into. Then the sound hit me—clear and sharp.

A throat clearing. I jerked back like I’d been slapped, my heart trying to crawl up my throat. My foot caught the edge of the rug, and I went down hard, landing on my ass with a grunt. My gaze crawled upward—floor, socks, denim, torso—until it met his eyes. Green.. Glinting. Amused. Caught. I was so utterly, terrifyingly caught.

He grinned down at me, wolfish and amused. “Up to mischief, were you, little girl?”

My mouth opened but no words came out. “Um… uh… um…”

“Surely, you realize you have no way out of this, yes?” he murmured. “Caught you red-handed, young lady.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” I snapped, too quickly, too defensively.

His laughter—rich and sharp—bounced around the room like it had teeth. “Oh? That’s what you were doing? Nothing at all?”

“Exactly. Nothing.” I scrambled to my feet, hoping my indignation could hide the tremble in my legs. I tried to shove past him, but his hand closed around my arm. Not painfully. Just enough to stop me. My breath caught.

I glared up at him, heat rushing to my face. “Let me fucking go. Now.”

His smile didn’t falter. “Nah, I don’t think I will,” he said, voice smooth as sin. “I took the time to cook you something real nice for breakfast. Meanwhile, you were up here snooping through my private things like a nosy little brat.”

I swallowed hard. The air between us shifted, thickened.

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