Page 27 of Hunted to the Altar
I turned to face him, my anger flaring once more. “Why? Why are you doing this? Why me?”
His hand reached out, brushing a stray curl from my face. The touch was gentle, almost tender, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “Because you’re mine,” he said simply. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
The finality in his voice left no room for argument. I was trapped, bound by his rules, his expectations, his unyielding need for control. And yet, as I stared into his piercing blue eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to him than the monster he portrayed.
But even if there was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find it.
As the night stretched on, I tested the edges of his rules: small things, subtle defiance. I left my water glass on the edge of the counter instead of in the sink. I adjusted the pillows on the couch after he straightened them. Little acts of rebellion that I knew wouldn’t go unnoticed.
He didn’t react immediately, but I could see the tension building in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to correct me. His control was ironclad, but I could feel it fraying, thread by thread.
By the time I finally retreated to the bedroom—his bedroom—the air between us was electric, charged with an unspoken battle of wills. I slipped beneath the covers, my body rigid as I waited for him to join me. When he finally did, the bed dipped under his weight, his presence a constant reminder of my captivity.
“Goodnight, Nina,” he whispered, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I closed my eyes and vowed to escape—to break free of his control.
Even if it killed me.
But I wasn’t done pushing him yet. By the second day, my attitude wasn’t as subtle. I deliberately ignored his command to keep the penthouse in pristine order, leaving cabinets open and throwing blankets carelessly over the couch. When he returned from his study and saw the chaos, his sharp eyes locked onto mine.
“Nina,” he said, his voice a warning, the calm before a storm.
I crossed my arms and stared at him defiantly. “What? You said I could stay here. I didn’t realize there’d be consequences.”
He closed the distance between us in three long strides, his hand gripping my wrist firmly but not painfully. “I told you there would be repercussions for breaking my rules,” he murmured. “Don’t break them and you’ll be fine.”
Before I could retort, he pulled a length of silk rope from his pocket—as if he’d been waiting for this moment. My breath hitched as he tied my wrists together, his movements calm and methodical.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, panic lacing my voice.
He didn’t respond immediately, his focus on the precise knots he was forming. When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable. “Teaching you,” he said simply.
“You can’t do this!” I shouted, my voice rising with panic. I struggled against the bindings, but they were secure, holding me in place with unnerving efficiency.
Samuel leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “I can do whatever I want, Nina. And if you keep screaming, I’ll make it worse.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he pressed a piece of cloth against my lips, muffling my cries. His eyes darkened as he secured the gag, his hands brushing against my skin with an almost tender precision.
“Silence,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “is blissfully sweet.”
I glared at him, my fury simmering beneath the surface. But deep down, beneath the anger and fear, a strange sensation flickered. His dominance was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet…it demanded a response I didn’t fully understand.
Samuel stood back, admiring his work with a faint smile. “You’ll learn, Nina. Eventually.”
He lied down beside me, and I shuddered. I huffed and twisted against the silk binding my wrists, my breath shallow, my pulse erratic. The scarf was soft, but his presence was suffocating. Every shift of my body made the bed creak, a sound swallowed by the quiet dominance of Samuel beside me.
“Stop,” he murmured, his hand slipping between my legs, possessive, testing. I froze, my body tensing, terror threadingthrough my veins. “I’m not punishing you tonight, no matter how much you beg.”
I scoffed. This guy was unbelievable.
“Go to sleep, little bunny,” he ordered, his voice smooth, final.
I forced my breaths to slow, my body to still, feigning the surrender he expected. My lashes fluttered shut, my heart hammering beneath my ribs.
Because I knew—if he sensed resistance, he wouldn’t stop.
CHAPTER TWELVE
