Siege And Seduction

5

Chapter Three OceanofPDF.com MORGAN THIS HAD to be the universe testing me. What other explanation could there be? One extraordinary event after another, and now I was being harnessed to an insufferable jailor who held my life in his hands. It really wasn’t fair. That, or I’d been a real b***h in a past life. “Fine!” I hissed. “Stay if you like, but I’m out of here.” I whipped around and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind me. Childish, I know, but I was pissed with little other means for expressing my bubbling anger. “Freaking mutt thinks he can waltz into my prison and just claim the upper bunk,” I muttered to myself as I stomped down one of the forest paths. “I’ve got news for Scooby-Doo. I’m getting off this Alcatraz whether he’s here or not.” The one and only time I ever told my plans to another living soul, and the furry mongrel sprouts vocal cords. That wasn’t the only thing he’d sprouted. Fido had transformed into a red-blooded man—from his gloriously sculpted shoulders to his rippling abdominals and down to his powerfully built legs—one-hundred-percent man and one-hundred-percent naked. Every square inch had been on display, and he was just as comfortable in his skin as he had been in fur. The consummate predator. Confident. Aggressive. Unpredictable. My mouth had gone dry at the sight of him. As if stealing my secrets wasn’t enough, his miraculous metamorphosis was also a painful reminder of just how long it had been since I’d enjoyed a taste of the opposite s*x. Hell, even the men I had been with seemed like boys compared to the raw masculinity that wafted off him in waves. He was two-hundred pounds of panty-melting, drool-inducing, jawdropping man. At least on the outside. His salt-and-pepper hair and glowing amber eyes were signs that the wolf wasn’t entirely gone. I figured that was to be expected after hundreds of years in another form. There had hardly been any precedent for this type of thing. I wasn’t even aware such magic existed, but I had lived long enough to know that nothing was impossible. I should have known there was more to the beast, considering his master. What was his story? How had he ended up as a wolf? Why did he have so many gruesome scars? While his facial features had been obscured beneath the heavy growth of a full beard, the rest of his body had been unabashedly on display. Someone had permanently marred his skin at some point in his life, disfiguring his perfection. Not just once or twice, but hundreds of times. His god-like physique was marked with innumerable scars where the skin was shiny and texturized. His arms, legs, and torso were all covered with a multitude of s***h marks. As a wolf, his fur had hidden the evidence of his wounds, but the scars were plain to see as a man. The Fae healed quickly, so I couldn’t imagine what brutalities he’d endured to receive such everlasting reminders. Merlin said the wolf had been held prisoner by Red Caps—a vicious caste of Unseelie, wicked to their marrow and capable of unthinkable atrocities. How long did his captivity last to earn such a roadmap of pain? It was almost enough to garner my pity, but that would have done him a disservice. If anything, he had my begrudging respect. He had survived. Those marks spoke to his worthiness as an adversary. They didn’t mar his perfection—they added to his appeal because they were evidence of his inner strength. It would serve me well not to underestimate him. Like you did when you opened your big mouth and ratted yourself out. I had known better than to give away my secrets. But how was I supposed to know Merlin’s lapdog for the past century would miraculously transform into a man? Unlike the stories in human books and movies, animals didn’t just transform into people and vice versa, even in Faery. It didn’t matter how slim the chances. You never should have spoken the words aloud, whether to a dog or a potted cactus. I blamed temporary insanity for my lack of discretion. I liked alone time as much as the next girl, but after a month by myself, I’d been minutes away from talking to the birds like some kind of f****d-up Disney Princess. Prisoners were punished with solitary confinement for a reason. It sucked. When my furry friend came along, I gave in to the weakness—the need for companionship. I said more than I should have, and Merlin’s lackey would undoubtedly blab what he’d learned directly to the almighty Fae sorcerer. It would complicate my life immeasurably. My chances of succeeding with my plans hadn’t been great before, but now, they were downright abysmal. Weighed down by my foolhardy mistake, I sighed and slowed my punishing pace. No matter how harshly I chastised myself, it wouldn’t change my situation. I had screwed up. My heart ached in a way I hadn’t experienced in ages. The piercing pain in my chest helped dull the frozen throbbing in my fingers and toes from the crisp morning air. I had burst from the house in nothing but a satin nightgown. While my agitation had initially sent ample fire through my veins to keep me warm, the cold wrapped its icy tendrils around me as my temper settled. When I neared the stone wall that stood guard around my lush prison, crushing desperation was a heavy boulder on my chest. I had sworn I would escape but had no idea how. Merlin had been careful to ensure no tools were available in the house that might aid me in getting the cuffs off my wrists. The iron wasn’t terribly thick, less than a quarter inch, but the cuffs were well-fitted, solid bands about an inch wide. Unlike a jewelry cuff that might have a break where the wearer could slide the cuff on and off, these were solid all the way around as though they’d been forged on my body. I had no idea how to remove them. Dropping my gaze to the rocky ground, I picked up a large stone and launched it with all my might at the deplorable wall. I put all my hate and frustration, my longing and pain into my throw and pummeled the wall with rock after rock. “I doubt that’s going to help,” a gravelly voice said from behind me. I had lost myself in my frustrations so thoroughly that I failed to hear him approach. Yet another mistake. Oversights and missteps had become my new MO. “There’s little that will help unless you’d like to remove these cuffs from my wrists.” I paused just long enough to aim a murderous look his direction.