Omens (Cainsville 1)

d willed my heart to slow. Don't panic. Oh God, don't panic.

Don't panic? I'm bound to the goddamn--

Don't panic!

I sucked in a breath as deeply as I dared. Then I shifted my legs, as if moving them in sleep, brushing them together as I did.

Okay, there was nothing around my ankles. Nothing around my other wrist either, because if I'd stop freaking out for a second, I'd realize I could see my other hand, on the moonlit bedspread.

Bound to the headboard by one wrist. Bound loosely by a cord. Which would tighten if I jumped up.

So don't panic.

If I moved my hand up, toward the headboard, I'd give the cord more slack. Then I could work it off. I'd just slide my hand--

A hitch in the breathing. A squeak of the chair.

I snapped my eyes shut. Then I lay there, blind, every nerve straining, as if I could somehow sense if I was in danger. Only I couldn't. Someone was right beside me, maybe even leaning over me, knife moving to my--

Oh God, oh God.

Breathe. Just breathe.

A soft grunt, almost sounding disappointed. Another squeak as the intruder settled back into the chair.

Moving so slowly that my neck ached, I turned my head an inch toward his side of the bed. Then I waited. Counted to ten as sweat trickled down my cheek.

At ten, I waited two more excruciating seconds. Then I cracked open my eyes. It took a moment for my vision to adjust. When it did, I saw a figure sitting beside the bed.

If I opened my eyes just a little more--

No. Just wait.

After a moment, the figure began to manifest features. Dark hair cut short. A round face. Wide nose. Clean shaven.

The goddamned desk clerk.

That bastard. That scrawny, greasy bastard. Did he really think--?

A faint tug on my left wrist as my hand involuntarily clenched. I quickly released it and inhaled through my mouth.

Okay, anger was far more satisfying than panic, but no less likely to get me in serious trouble. If this guy had me bound to my bed, he'd probably brought either a knife or a gun. I had to relax and get free.

Earlier, I'd thought he recognized me. He hadn't. What he'd seen was the same thing the sleazy landlord had seen. A young woman alone. Uncertain. Exhausted. Vulnerable.

The perfect victim.

I must have forgotten to fasten the chain. He'd used his master key to get into my room and bound my wrist to the bed. Now he was watching me sleep. Waiting for that moment when I'd wake, still sleepy, blissfully ignorant. When I'd stretch and the cord would tighten and I'd realize what had happened. When I realized what would happen and became completely, deliciously, helplessly terrified.

If I was only bound by one hand, and I knew about it--and him--that gave me an advantage. Leap up and get free. Rob him of his moment of terror and--

"Are you awake?" His whisper slithered past.

I shut my eyes fast.

The chair squeaked again as he got up. This time I did sense him leaning over me. Heard his raspy breathing getting closer, closer...

He was so close that when he moved, his sleeve brushed my bare arm and goose bumps sprang up.