Page 66 of Entombed By Blood
“Unhand me.” My words are breathy. What I meant as an order sounds more like a suggestion.
“All in good time, doll.”
His fangs brush the same path his mouth just took and an answering tug, low in my belly, responds. I shiver. I have to work hard to resist the urge to arch myself against him and deepen the contact.
“Once you tell me why you’re running back to the bastard who kept you in a coffin for centuries.”
His hard, green eyes bore into mine as he waits for an answer he won’t get.
We stay locked like that—both breathing hard—for several seconds, before the fine lines between his brows smooth out. Something curiously close to understanding fills his gaze, and I fidget under the weight of it, caught between desire and fear.
“You weren’t running back to him, were you? You were just running away.”
Terror slams into me.He can’t know. I buck against him, trying to dislodge his body.
All I succeed in doing is rubbing myself along his dick. Making him hiss as I arouse us both even further.
“Keep doing that. I dare you,” he groans. “Gideon’s orders don’t mean shit to me.”
I go very, very still, my heart thudding in my chest. “What orders?”
Draven grins, a full, mischievous smile that’s somehow more chilling than all of his others. “He ordered the others not to mess up your pretty head with fucking. It’s amusing to watch them pine over you at every turn. Even more so now I know you plan on running away from all of them at the first chance.”
“I’m not running away,” I lie. “I’m running back to Cain, just like you said.”
If Cain gets even a hint that I’m running, I’m done for. Immy will be dead before I can reach her.
“Tut tut.” Draven manoeuvres the two of us, flipping me effortlessly so I’m facing him. My breasts press into his chest with every inhale, and I bite my lip to keep from gasping at the sensation. “Don’t lie to me now, doll.” He grinds his cock into the seam of the soft shorts I’m wearing, and I can’t help the low moan that escapes.
“Stop calling me that.” My protest is weak, breathless.
“Why not?” he croons. “You’re just a pretty little thing for your sire to dress up and take out occasionally when the mood strikes him. The rest of the time, he keeps you in your box. Just like a doll.”
The reminder of my imprisonment shatters the budding mood. I growl and swing my head forward, aiming to connect with his nose.
Draven dodges but loosens his hold enough that I manage to get out from underneath him. For an instant, I debate trying to fight him, but I’m not foolish enough to believe I can win. Years of silver exposure have weakened me, and I can’t rely on muscle memory to beat a trained soldier in single combat.
So I do the only thing I can.
I turn on my heel and run.
Draven’s laugh follows me through the trees. The feeling of freedom I revelled in earlier is gone, replaced by the frantic drumbeat of my own heart as I flee.
“Running away won’t work.” His words come from my left, so I veer right. “Only prey runs.”
I leap into the trees, hoping to confuse him into losing my scent. Flitting from branch to branch takes a lot of focus, so much that I almost fall off my branch when I hear him again.
“I thought you were supposed to be a legendary strategist? A warrior without equal?”
His voice is still to my left, and it’s becoming painfully obvious that he’s herding me back to the house.
I leap one more time, then freeze and press myself into the trunk, hoping the leaves will hide me. Perhaps I can trick him into moving past me.
“Have you given up already?”
A glance down reveals him leaning casually against the bottom of my tree. I slump in defeat. My eyes burn as I stare into the sky. How pathetic have I become if I can’t escape one male? What use am I in this world if I can’t fight and I can’t run?
“I just want to be free,” I whisper, brokenly. “Is that so wrong?”
