There was still time for me to forge my own path to freedom, and no one else would be put at risk. No one else would die because of me.
I just had to get out of here before the dark force inside me overwhelmed reason. If I surrendered to Raúl, my fate would be sealed.
Chapter 12
Raúl
Fuck.
Marisol’s body went rigid, and her lashes lowered to shutter her rich, chocolate eyes.
My own muscles tensed. My first instinct was to trap her more tightly against me until her soft curves molded to the hard planes of my body once again.
I gritted my teeth and released her with a grunt, forcing my arms to my sides. I didn’t like when she reacted to me like this. I liked when she looked at me like I was her savior; when her eyes darkened with lust, and she shuddered beneath my rough hands as though she craved me more than she needed air.
I flexed my fingers to fists and then released them, trying and failing to purge the aggression that coiled my body tight. Marisol was still traumatized, and she wasn’t ready to fully accept the darker nature of our chemistry.
Although I would always be careful with her, I couldn’t be gentle. I’d become obsessed with keeping my fragile, pretty hostage safe from harm, but when I claimed her, I would be harsh and demanding. She would surrender everything to me. I would accept nothing less.
And her responses to my kiss told me she’d love every second of her forced submission.
But it had only been a couple days since Daniel had assaulted her. She’d been attacked by the thief in Juárez shortly after. It was becoming clear to me that other men had made her suffer, long before I’d met her and taken on my role as her protector.
If you want things to be the same as they were with Daniel, just go ahead. Take what you want. I won’t fight you. It’s not worth the extra pain. Her acidic challenge needled my mind, stirring an echo of the rage and disgust that’d flooded me on the night she’d thought I would rape her.
Before I’d kissed her just now, she’d been opening up to me about losing her family, making herself vulnerable. Marisol had been through hell, and it was no wonder her emotions were swinging wildly. Once she settled in my home, she would stop resisting our connection.
Her resistance only tempted the monster in me, fueling my savage urge to conquer and claim. My fists flexed once again in a futile attempt to work out the sexual aggression that simmered just beneath my skin.
Her gaze landed on my clenched fists, and she shrank back.
I ran a hand through my hair, raking my nails over my scalp. I was an impatient, greedy bastard, and my restraint was tenuous at the best of times. Denying myself when Marisol’s petite, trembling body was within easy reach was self-imposed torture.
“I’m going to my workshop,” I half-growled at her. Pounding a sledgehammer against glowing hot iron until it bent to my will would help me redirect my savage impulses. I could spare Marisol from my most beastly urges. “You’re free to do whatever you want. You know the layout of the house now.”
I turned sharply and stalked away from her before my control could snap.
There were plenty of options around my property to occupy her time. I didn’t have to keep watch over her every minute of the day. It wasn’t as though my house was a prison.
Her wide, doe eyes as I’d shown her around my home had warmed my insides. I’d bled and scraped for every penny that’d afforded me this luxury. I’d liked seeing her awed reaction to what I’d achieved. She understood that I could provide for her.
I much preferred her slack-jawed wonder to her fearful cringe at my touch. For her, I would try to be patient. I didn’t want to destroy the trust that I coveted so much; the utterly unfamiliar sense that someone saw something good in me. Marisol fulfilled my newfound obsession with that addictive feeling. I would make sure to keep it that way.
For now, that meant beating the shit out of something, forcing rigid metal to soften and bend into the shape I desired. A few hours in my workshop always calmed me. For most men, iron was unyielding, but I could fashion it into anything that pleased me.
My muscles burned by the time I finally dropped my hammer, but the physical labor had barely taken the edge off. My desire for Marisol persisted like an itch beneath my skin, an irritant that I couldn’t scratch away.
I swiped the back of my hand across my brow, wiping away thick beads of sweat before they could fall into my eyes. With a grunt of frustration, I started putting my tools back into their orderly places. I wouldn’t neglect my usual care for my possessions, no matter how frustrated I was.