Page 74 of Merciless Desires

My stubborn defiance wavers at the whispered threat. Satisfied he's rattled me, he draws back, all nonchalance again. He issues me a one-word command, "Rest," before slipping from the room and shutting the door firmly behind him.

Alone, the gravity of the situation hits me, and the adrenaline—fueled by fear and rage—seeps away. I sink onto the edge of the bed, limbs like rubber, gulping air to hold off the sobs fighting to break free.

Don't fall apart. Do not fall apart!

Do something. Anything. I focus on slowing my ragged breath and taking stock. His arrogant assumption that I'll just calmly accept being held prisoner makes me bristle. I need to act while he still underestimates me.

Escape is priority one. I cross to the window over the bed and nudge the lace curtain aside, scanning for potential exits. My heart sinks. The cabin is built on a hill and the glass overlooks a rickety balcony with a twenty-foot drop to the ground below. Too risky to attempt bound and barefoot.

The thick wood door also appears secure, probably deadbolted from the outside. But maybe...

I hurry to the bathroom. There’s a small window over the tub. The bathroom faces the front corner of the cabin, so there might not be such a steep drop-off. I bend at the waist and step over my zip-tied hands so they’re cuffed in front rather than in back, then test the window. My pulse leaps when it slides open easily, letting in the crisp night air. But my excitement soon dies when I realize it’s not large enough for me to fit through.

Escape is possible, but I'll need to leave the way I came—through the front door. I work quickly and quietly while he's gone from the room.

I hastily position the pillows under the bedspread so it looks as though I crawled under the covers and went to sleep. Then I lift the toilet tank lid free and smuggle it into the bedroom. The weight makes my bound wrists ache, but I manage.

With effort, I wedge myself between the dresser and wall, braced in position to swing my makeshift weapon.

Now to wait. That bastard’s smug arrogance infuriates me. Does he really think he can just abduct a woman with no consequence? A chill runs through my blood when I realize he's probably done it before, and possibly succeeded. I wonder how many women he's abducted. Has he killed them all? Are there bodies buried around the grounds outside?

Well, I am not as helpless as I may appear. This predator chose the wrong prey to stalk.

Time creeps by. My legs cramp and my arms tremble from maintaining my position, but I force myself to focus past the discomfort. If I blow this, who knows when or if I'll get another chance, and timing is everything.

The door knob finally rattles and my pulse spikes. I only get one shot at this.

He strides in casually, leaving the door open behind him. He remains rooted in the center of the room, staring at the lump in the bed, clearly thinking it’s me. Perfect.

With immense satisfaction, I snap the heavy tank lid forward using as much strength as I can muster. My aim proves true. The curved edge strikes him directly across the temple before he can react.

He staggers, stunned, and I bolt through the open door. My bare feet slap the polished wood as I race down the hall, aiming for the front door.

So close...just a few more...

A sound comes from behind me—a cross between a shout and a roar—a warcry. Too late, my mistake becomes clear. I failed to knock him fully unconscious. I should have hit him again while he was stunned.

Hands like steel clamps ensnare my waist hurling me to the ground. I twist and buck, but his superior weight traps me facedown on the hardwood.

"Devious little bitch," he grates in my ear. I scream and flail at the floor, kicking frantically, but he’s solid muscle and heavy as hell. With my wrists still bound, I'm fully at his mercy.

"That was impressive." His voice drips fury tempered by lurking excitement as I struggle uselessly beneath him. "But now you've crossed a line, golubushka. And for that, you need to be punished."

Punished? The promise of impending violence makes my vision blur with panic and despair. I’m at this psycho's mercy.

As he roughly hauls me up, I unleash the banshee scream that’s been building inside me, high and piercing. Better to go out fighting than to surrender. I continue shrieking even as he clamps a hand over my mouth, muffling the sound.

We grapple in a crazed, twisting battle back down the hall.

Once again, I manage to sink my teeth into the hand covering my mouth, tasting iron, but he only responds by releasing me to backhand me brutally across the face. My cry cuts off as I reel from the blow. Before I can recover or flee, he's on me once more, face contorted in wild fury.

The last thought that flashes through my mind as he throws me on the bed is, “Oh, shit!” But I won’t stop fighting him.

Not until I’m six feet under.

CHAPTER 3

Natalia

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