(Updates everyday)
Power demands what it's owed, and souls are its favorite currency.
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When museum curator, Lena Goodwin, receives an anonymous package containing damning evidence of a mistake she thought she buried years ago, her carefully built...
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Lena woke slowly. Her eyelids felt heavy as she tried to force them open. It was like she was dragged through tar, stuck between a deep exhaustion and a need for answers. She attempted to sit up, only to feel the uncomfortable restriction on her wrists that made doing so difficult. The bindings were still there. The bedroom was dimly lit with light filtering through the window to her side. Enough to make out the rope scratching against her skin.
Enough to remember where she was and who had brought her there. The events of what happened returned to her in fragments she didn't quite understand. The chase. Drakhar. A strange blinding light that had erupted from behind her. She blacked out soon after, waking briefly to an unnerving realization that Hugh had her bound and took her somewhere hidden away.
She could feel the anger ease its way back in as she struggled to sit up. The rope was just as tight as the day before. There was no slack, no bit of space to give her any relief. Not that she would get any knowing she was in bondage and at Hugh's mercy for whatever plans he now had.
She hated how she was so easily at his disposal. With the bindings, she didn't have much choice. She had tried to remove the rope before she fell asleep, but she was bound with magic. A strong kind. And, as much as she wanted to stay awake, her body was spent, and she knocked out not long after Hugh had left.
He had been calmly infuriating if that was possible. She could see his face, the way he had looked at her like she was a thorn in his side. It was his way of making her feel small, as though he would always be in control even if he had let her go to the estate.
The sound of his footsteps drew her attention, and she looked up just as the door opened. He walked in, giving a short glance. His mouth curved into a faint smile but it was anything but amiable.
"Good, you're awake."
Lena sighed, bringing her knees up to her chest. "Unfortunately."
He arched an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest as he propped himself against the doorframe. There was something in his hand. A wrapper? She got her answer when he tossed it onto the bed in front of her, just a few inches away. Food.
Only then did she realize how hungry she was. Lena lunged for the packaged pastry and hurriedly opened it. As she bit into the sweetness of the brioche, Hugh spoke up again.
"What would be unfortunate is if you starved to death on my bed. In my bedroom. Where I sleep." He deliberately paused after each statement, causing her to still her movements.
Was that where she was? She assumed they would be in some safe house. Not his apartment. The knowledge sent an unprecedented shiver down her spine.
Lena had spent the night in another man's quarters, and they hadn't even slept together. It was a baseless thought, but now that it had crossed her mind, she suddenly became nervous in Hugh's presence.
