Page 36 of Hunted to the Altar
"And yet, here we are," I murmured, my voice low and filled with unspoken promise.
The silence stretched between us, thick and electric. And in that moment, I knew I had her exactly where I wanted her.
But the moment wasn’t enough. My hands itched with the desire to take more, to claim her in ways that left no room for argument or resistance. And yet, I refrained. Barely.
Instead, I rose slowly, offering her my hand. She stared at it for a long moment, her lips pressing into a thin line as she weighed her options. When she didn’t take it, I chuckled softly.
"Suit yourself," I said, moving back to my seat. "But don’t forget, Nina. You owe me."
Her jaw tightened, her anger barely contained. "You’ll never get what you want."
I tilted my head, studying her with a lazy smirk. "That remains to be seen."
As I cleared the chessboard, my movements slow and deliberate, I felt her eyes on me. The tension between us hadn’t lessened—it had only sharpened, an invisible thread pulling us closer even as we both fought to resist it.
When I stood, I crossed to her again, stopping just shy of her space. The fight in her eyes was unmistakable, but so was the flicker of uncertainty.
"Goodnight, Nina," I said softly, my voice low and measured. But before I could fully retreat, I leaned in closer, my face inches from hers. "Or are you too angry to let me leave without a proper goodbye?"
Her breath caught, her lips parting slightly as I tilted my head, my gaze dropping to her mouth. The heat between us was undeniable, a charged tension that dared her to make a move. But when I leaned in just enough to brush her cheek with my breath, she jerked back.
"Don’t," she said sharply, her voice trembling but resolute.
I stilled, the rejection settling like a stone in my chest. But instead of anger, a smirk played on my lips. "You’ll regret that," Isaid darkly, my tone dripping with promise. "Mark my words, Nina."
Without waiting for a response, I turned and left the room, the echo of my footsteps the only sound, as the tension I left behind suffocated the space we shared. For now, I’d let her have her victory. But it wouldn’t last.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nina
The walls of the safehouse,so lavish and cold, had become both my sanctuary and my prison. Each passing day only blurred the line between the two. By now, I had memorized every detail of the place—the intricate designs on the crown molding, the soft hum of the air conditioning, the muted gleam of the marble floors that felt more like an arena than a home. It was all gilded misery, and I was its captive queen.
The morning had begun quietly, the kind of deceptive stillness that only meant trouble was brewing. I woke up with a weight pressing down on me.
Even in sleep, he kept me caged, one heavy arm draped possessively over my waist, his fingers slack against my hip but still there—still a silent warning. My breath came slow and measured, though my pulse hammered beneath the surface.
If I was careful, I could slip away.
My muscles tensed as I slowly inched toward the edge of thebed, peeling myself from his grip. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t stir. I held my breath, waiting, before moving again—one slow, painstaking inch at a time until I was free.
The scent of coffee lingered in the air, and I followed it like a lifeline. If I was lucky, I’d get a few moments to myself before Samuel woke up and ruined them.
I reached the kitchen just as I heard footsteps.
My stomach clenched.
The doors hadn’t even fully opened when heavy boots pounded onto the marble floors, cutting through the quiet. A man barreled in, out of breath, eyes wild as they locked onto me like I was the last person he expected to see standing there.
“Where’s Samuel?” he barked, reaching for the gun holstered at his hip.
I went rigid.
I knew this one—Matteo, one of Samuel’s men, I think. The one who barely looked at me unless it was to make sure I wasn’t doing something I shouldn’t be. But right then, his usual impassiveness was gone. His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.
“He’s—” My voice came out hoarse, unused. I swallowed and tried again. “He’s asleep.”
Matteo muttered a curse, reaching for his radio as he turned back toward the front entrance.
