Page 9 of Trapped for Her Blood
Finally, his head breaks through the surface on the far side of the pool, at least Ithinkthe dark shape rising out of the water is his head but there’s so little light it’s hard to be sure.
He drifts across the water, his arms breaking the surface on occasion, then he turns to float on his back.
I only recognize his position for sure, because his stiff rod pokes through the surface, a reminder of what this man, this beast, could do to me if he chose.
I watch as he swims, turning over and diving under again for a long time, resurfacing near a cave wall. He pushes off the rock, the splash of the water a comforting, normalizing sound, and I move closer to the fire to warm my hands.
The fur beneath me is soft, but different from the fur on his body when he was a bear.Did that really happen?The past few days have been the strangest of my life, and that includes the day my mother disappeared.
He continues to dive and surface, to glide back and forth across the water, and the motion, combined with the sound of the waterfall at the pool’s edge, calms my nerves.
I feel safer having him in here, but am also glad there’s a good separation between us—a needed safety buffer while I adjust to my new circumstances. The fire is gentler now, bright orange embers glowing at its base and its heat thawing my tense muscles and taming my fear.
Lying down on my side, I shift the blanket so that the fur’s beneath my arm and face, and my eyes flutter shut.
I open them.
As comfortable and warm as I feel, it’s not safe to sleep.
They flutter again and I continue to fight it, but my body is melting now, boneless and weightless, almost floating between the blanket and fur until I give in. I don’t know what dangers face me, but I expect I can be better prepared to face them if I sleep.
* * *
Ember
I waketo the sound of crackling, and my eyes open slowly. Someone added more wood to the fire.
Shifting my head, I spot him sitting not far from my feet, his bare chest reflecting the firelight, his eyes focused on the flames.
His shoulder length hair is dry, curlier now, no longer matted, and it’s shining chestnut brown in the light. If I had to guess, he’s been out of the water for at least an hour for his hair to be dry like that. Who knows how long I’ve slept.
He stands, and a strange combination of relief and disappointment strikes my gut as I see that he’s now wearing pants—if you can call them that. The garment covering his lower half is made out of fur and belted around his hips with a heavy rope.
He strides to the water, revealing that the fur is more skirt than pants as his powerful legs are exposed on each step. I remain still and only let my eyes stay open a slit as he fills the tin cup and drinks. Then he fills it again, returns and sets the cup near my head. He knows I’m awake.
I sit, slowly, and he remains still, sitting across from me and staring into the fire, the light dancing over his rugged features and body.
Earlier, I thought his looks were too rough hewn to be anything I’d call handsome, but the lighting and mood are casting a different impression. His eyebrows are dark and thick, his bone structure solid and strong, and his skin is tanned with the look of a man who’s worked his whole life outdoors in the sun. There’s no sun down here.
His short beard suits him, framing a strong jaw and lush lips, and now that his hair isn’t matted I’m awed by his wildly handsome looks. He turns toward me.
Caught staring I quickly switch my gaze to the fire.
“You okay?” he asks.
Nodding, I pick up the cup and take a sip of water, then I slowly turn to fully face him. I suck in a sharp breath. He’s not just handsome, he’s gorgeous. His golden eyes flash and his eyebrows make him seem fearsome and angry, even though the depths of his eyes reveal sadness. I have never seen muscles like his in real life, hands so big, a chest and back so wide, and I’m grateful he has not used his obvious power against me. Yet.
“You didn’t rape me.” I clap my hand over my mouth realizing I said that out loud.
His head tips to the side and one of his eyebrows quirks up. “Was I supposed to?”
I adjust myself to sit cross-legged, the blanket still over my shoulders. “No. I just…” I shake my head, still shocked that I blurted that out without thinking, but even more shocked that what I said is true. “This place.” It’s all I can think to say.
Nodding, he turns back to the fire.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“Why?
