She Who Bears The Wolf's Mark

Kidnapped

Kidnapped

Did... Did you leave me those roses and that note?" My voice was nothing but a mere whisper, hoarse and croaky as my throat constricted and closed, making me feel as if I had swallowed acid. My frantic heart pumped the blood to my ears in anticipation for his answer.

I already knew the answer though. This had to be some kind of sick nightmare and any moment now, I'd wake up and return to my boring, normal life that didn't involve sexy-as-hell kidnappers with Lamborghini. It had to be! "Are you a s-stalker or some kind of psychopath?" I couldn't resist the urge to ask, the ludicrous thought suddenly seeming incredibly possible as the naked and occasional evergreen trees blurred by.

My eyes met Xander's. For a second or two, his beautiful golden eyes seized my breath, those mysterious orbs never failing to surprise and remind me of their intensity and of the mysteries that lurked behind them. The emotion that swirled in their depths resembled amusement, much to my horrification. This amused him?!

"To answer your first question, yes, I was the one who left those roses at your door, and as for your second question, no, I'm neither of those things." His tone of voice sounded extremely amused, much to my irritation.

Him claiming he wasn't a criminal just wasn't enough for me to believe him, especially when he was taking me to some place without my consent. After all, he did confess to leaving those dead roses at my doorstep probably. Surely he'd left them as some sort of demented omen. The message in the card was terrifying on its own. The breath hitched in my throat as I recalled with vivid clarity all then stories I'd heard or read about women being kidnapped. Horrible, horrible things had been done to most of them.

"I don't believe you," I blurted gripping the door handle and trying it one more time to see if it would open despite the car still moving. But the bastard had child-locked the door, which meant that he'd planned this well in advance.

But why?! What was his goal? I wasn't rich or famous and neither were my parents! I had nothing that someone who owned a Lamborghini would deem worthy of kidnapping me for!

As if magically reading my mind, Xander said in a firm yet soft voice, "I'm not a kidnapper either." When he said that this time, his eyes met mine.

I saw in them hesitance–perhaps for kidnapping me.

I finally found my voice after what felt like an eternity. "But you are kidnapping me," I stated matter-of-factly, staring at him beseechingly, praying with all my heart and soul he'd change his mind and decide to abort this ridiculous, illegal mission. And just to bait him, I said, "I swear on my ancestors' gravel I won't tell a soul if you let me go. You know what, you can just leave me here even though it's the middle of nowhere and I don't know the way back. You might get lucky and I'll get lost and eventually die here and only be found a hundred years later during an archeological drilling." The idea made my stomach churn and turn till I thought I'd hurl, tears welling in my eyes and threatening to spill, but I had to tempt him somehow and the words poured out of my mouth on their own accord.

To my alarm, a hearty laugh escaped Xander's mouth.

Stunned by his reaction, my jaw dropped.

The idiot took his gaze off the road completely to look at me, his grip on the steering wheel loosening a little. My eyes widened and my heart stuttered in mortification and trepidation, death-alert bells ringing in my head. If he kept looking away from the road like this, he'd eventually kill us both in a car accident!

But despite not having his gaze on the road, the Lamborghini's speed didn't falter nor did the car so much as sway, as if he knew the road we were taking like the back of his hand. And perhaps he did. No, he had to know the road for sure. Who would lay a road in a deserted place like this anyway? And for what?