Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2)

To accuse me of being childish when he kidnapped me and keeps me against my will is a low blow. The unrighteousness makes me shiver with anger. “I may like your skills in bed, but don’t expect me to jump whenever you say so.”

The softness from earlier is gone. His eyes turn hard like tiger-eye gemstones as he grabs my face in a big hand and draws me so close I have to crane my neck to meet his stony gaze.

His voice is low and loaded with warning. “Do you know why I own the people in this town?”

“Because you throw money at them?” I taunt.

He gives me a cold smile. “Because they fear me.”

His words have the desired effect. They spark fear, because I recognize the truth when I hear it. My silence appeases him. After a second, he sets me aside and releases his tight grip on my cheeks. He straightens my T-shirt and takes my hand, leading me to the door under the burning stares of the staff and guests.

“Put it on my tab,” he calls to the waiter.

The man nods a few times. “Yes, sir.”

Ian was right. Again. As we make our way across the lobby, every person we pass averts his eyes in fear.

Chapter 7

Cas

Arriving back at the lodge, I’m tired. My heart is telling me it’s not happy with my outbursts. Anger and other explosive emotions always put too much strain on that muscle. It’s having a hard time pumping blood through my body, which means there’s less oxygen reaching my cells, hence the sudden lethargy.

My legs cave a little when Ian helps me from the Jeep.

He catches me around the waist. “Hey, are you okay?”

I smile like it’s nothing. I hate making a big deal out of my weakness. “Just a little tired.”

He pushes two fingers on my wrist.

“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to pull away.

Ignoring my protest, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me inside.

“Ian, I said it’s nothing.”

He brings me into the office and lowers me onto the sofa. “You need to rest.”

I don’t argue, because I’m not capable of much else anyway.

He covers me with a throw and stands over me with furrowed eyebrows, but my eyes are already drawing closed.

When I wake up, it’s dark. A lamp burns on the desk. I’m alone in the office. The door is closed, probably so that I wouldn’t be disturbed. I throw the cover aside and sit up.

I’m dressed, but minus my hiking shoes. Ian must’ve removed them. A glass of water stands on the side table and a cute pillbox shaped like an apple next to it. I look around for a clock to tell the time. In my dizzy spell, I forget my phone in the Jeep. Ian wouldn’t have left my pills if it was too early to take them. I swallow them with the water and look around for my shoes. They’re neatly arranged next to the sofa.

After pulling them on, I open the door and step into the quiet reception hall. One lamp burns in a far corner, casting just enough light for me to find my way.

Voices drift from outside. The sharp smell of a wood fire hangs in the air. I pad over the floor and stop at the sliding doors giving access to the deck. The three men sit in camping chairs around a bonfire that burns orange against the black backdrop of the night. Sparks shoot up like fireflies. The stars are so plentiful it looks like someone dropped glitter over the sky.

As if sensing my presence, Ian looks up. Our eyes lock. His lips tilt ever so slightly, wordlessly inviting me over. I make my way down the steps and over the lawn. Both Leon and Ruben turn their heads in my direction. They stop talking. An awkward silence follows. A vacant chair stands next to Ian, but when I reach them, he pulls me into his lap.

He folds his arms around me and nuzzles my temple. “Feeling better?”

Leon is suddenly engrossed in the fire, and Ruben is very interested in stargazing.

“Yes,” I say, self-conscious about his friends’ reactions to Ian’s open show of affection.

Ruben fetches dishes from a camping table that he carries to a barbecue with glowing coals. He throws a few steaks and a halved butternut on the grill. The meat sizzles as marinade drips onto the coals. A smell of barbecue sauce lifts above the smoke with the turn of the breeze.

Leon pours rum and Coke for the men and surprises me by handing me a glass of wine.

“Thanks,” I say, now also uncomfortable knowing they were waiting for me to wake up to have dinner.

“What time is it?” I ask Ian.

He drags his nose over my neck and inhales. “Close to eight. Did you take your pills?”