Giant of Mesabi

"Let me go!" she muttered thickly, breathing heavily.

"With pleasure," Rolt snarled, and abruptly released her without any steadying hand to help her gain footing on the wet floor. He ripped a large, beach-size towel from the rack. "Here." He wrapped it around her, unconcerned by the rough way he handled her, his hands nearly bruising her tender flesh as he tucked the ends of the towel above her breasts. The towel's wide width tickled the back of her legs. "Your virtue and modesty are still intact."

Ridiculous patches of bubble bath dotted his shirt. His clothes were wet where her dripping body had been pressed against him. Beads of water glistened on his muscular arms, clinging to the dark hairs. With a last, insolently raking glance, he turned on his heel to leave.

Alanna, embarrassed and humiliated and enraged by what he had done, couldn't let him leave with the last word. It wasn't enough that he was leaving. She wanted to have the last word, too.

"And don't you ever come near me again!" Her foot stamped the wet floor in a childish display of temper.

Rolt stopped in the doorway, motionless for an instant. Then, like the gradual release of a thickly coiled spring, he turned, seeming more like the giant she had often likened him to as he loomed before her. Alanna backed toward the door to her bedroom. The small space of the bathroom became too confining, and Rolt followed.

"If I do or don't come near you again, it will be my decision." His jaw was clenched, biting down on the anger that vibrated through his voice. "Not because of any order from you."

"Don't be too sure about that," Alanna said with bravado as she kept retreating in the face of his sure advance.

"Really?" he mocked scornfully. "Did you feel protected last night behind your barricade?"

His indigo gaze flickered contemptuously to the dresser in front of the hall door. Alanna had been so intent on not taking her eyes from him that she hadn't noticed when her retreating footsteps had brought her on to the carpeted floor of the bedroom. Had he known it was there last night? Or had he seen it for the first time just now?

The question must have flashed in her eyes.

"The living room is just below," Rolt reminded her cuttingly. "I heard you pushing furniture around last night and I doubted that you were simply rearranging it at that hour."

"Then you knew!" she breathed.

"Of course I knew," he snapped. "But you don't honestly think it would have stopped me if I wanted to get in this room!"

"I would have clawed your eyes out if you'd succeeded," she warned.

"I doubt that." He laughed harshly in his throat.

Too incensed to realize what she was doing, Alanna tossed her head defiantly. "You try it some time."

"That is an invitation I accept."

The spring uncoiled with a swiftness that caught Alanna off guard. Rolt was before her and she struck at him. He dodged the blow and let it land harmlessly on his shoulder.

His hands grabbed her upper arms, bruising her soft flesh.

She struggled, kicking at him, hurting her bare toes against the hardness of his shins. Flailing and pushing at his chest and ribcage, she tried to prevent him from drawing her against him.

Although failing in that she did succeed in wedging an arm above his, loosening his grip, forcing him to circle her back to hold her. It left her arms free to beat at him, as she writhed and twisted in his iron embrace.

The blows she rained on his chest and shoulders didn't faze him so she aimed a fist at his mouth, the mocking curl of his lips. She felt it split, the bright red of blood showing against the bared white of his teeth. She had the sense to feel fear at what she had done.

Her eyes widened as he lifted her bodily off her feet and tossed her angrily backward. The bed broke her fall, and a gasp of surprise came from her throat. She stared at Rolt's glowering face, unable to move as he towered above the bed.

Recovering her wits, she started to roll to the opposite side of the bed away from him. But he was too quick for her, grabbing an arm and spinning her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress with his weight.

Her hands strained against him, trying to push him off, but Rolt caught them and stretched them above her head. She stared at him, knowing she was trapped. Her violet eyes were wild with despair as they met the hard glitter of his. He lowered his blood-stained mouth, covering hers in along, fiery kiss, parting her lips until the taste of his blood was on her tongue.

Her head moved in faint negation, trying to fight yet feeling the will to resist weaken. The heat of his body warmed her skin. The dampness of his clothes added to the heady, masculine scent. The firm touch of his hand on her bare shoulder furthered the destruction of her defenses. The physical ache for fulfillment was real and undeniable, adding to the overwhelming vulnerability that threatened her.

Somewhere Alanna found the ounce of reserve needed to keep her from responding with the fervor she felt. She mustn’t surrender to Rolt, not after what he'd done to her and Kurt, and used her father to trap her in a marriage she despised. When she felt that last measure draining under his savage passion, she was sure she was lost. As the tiny light of resistance flickered and died, Rolt lifted his head.

With an expression of angry disgust, he moved away from her, standing beside the bed. Her trembling hand clutched the loosened folds of her towel, uncertain whether his release was permanent or temporary.

"This is the way it's going to be, is it?" he said grimly. "A battle of wills? We'll see who gives in first."