es wash her, he amended a moment later when he caught the scent of shifter lingering on her skin. With that in mind, he carried her back to the shower, pushed the curtain aside, and realized that the water was no longer hot. With a shrug, he placed his wife inside, ignored her startled gasp as she came to and handed her the soap.

“Wash,” was all he said before he left the sputtering woman to do as he asked and decided that it was time to search the rest of the house.

*-*-*-*

“I really hate you,” Samantha informed the traitor that was following her as she tightened the towel around herself while she tried to ignore the splitting headache that was starting to concern her. She quickly made her way to her bedroom, and once she was there, she slammed the door shut in the little bastard’s face only to bite back a groan when she realized that she wasn’t alone.

“What’s this?” the man that had barged into the bathroom a total of fifteen times to make sure that she was doing as she was told before stealing her clothes, asked from where he sat on her bed, examining her old iPod.

“It’s an iPod,” she said, absently noting that he was now wearing a pair of Nathan’s old jeans and had probably already searched her brother’s bedroom.

“What does it do?” he asked as she walked over to her dresser, wondering if he’d found anything that she could use to get out of this.

“It plays music,” she said as she quickly grabbed some clothes, hoping to get dressed before-

“And this?” he asked, drawing her attention back to find him holding-

“Oh, my god!” she gasped, as she dropped the clothes in her arms to rescue Bob before he realized what it was for, but something, mainly the way that his eyes suddenly turned red and that growl that she really shouldn’t find sexy was torn from his throat, told her that he’d just figured it out.

With a somewhat hysterical smile, she managed to grab Bob from him and shoved it back in the nightstand drawer with the hopes that there wouldn’t be any follow up questions, but of course, with the way that her day was going, she really should have expected it.

“What do you use that for, wife?” he asked, making her wince.

“It’s umm, a sleep aide?” she said absently, wondering if he’d found-

“And this?” he asked in that same deep sexy growl that let her know that yes, yes, he had indeed found her pocket rocket.

The sound of Bob Jr. turning on only confirmed it. Reminding herself that she needed to tread lightly here, she turned around and mumbled, “It helps with the sleep aide,” noting the way that his red eyes narrowed on her before she quickly turned around as she shut it off and shoved it in the drawer with Bob. Once that was done, she turned around and-

“What’s a call?” he suddenly demanded, as he picked up a large black duffle bag that she hadn’t noticed before and dropped it on her bed.

“A call?” Samantha repeated back slowly, as she did her best to keep her gaze from wandering towards the cellphone on her nightstand.

“I need a call,” he said firmly, as those terrifying red eyes locked on her.

“Who do you need to call?” she asked, moving behind the bureau so that she could get dressed in private only to bite back a sigh when he moved closer so that he could keep an eye on her.

“My father,” he bit out evenly, as she struggled to get dressed without dropping her towel, painfully aware of the large angry man watching her every move as she pulled on another pair of granny panties and her most comfortable pair of jeans just in case she got another chance to escape.

“Do you have a number?” she asked as she turned around, giving him her back and after a minute, she realized that she wasn’t going to be able to put a bra on like this.

Resigning herself to having her boobs slap her in the face during her next escape attempt, she pulled on her old Hershey Park tee-shirt. When she was done, she tossed the towel aside and realized that the Advil was slowly starting to kick in, which would hopefully help her figure a way out of this, and there had to be a way out of this.

At least, that’s what she was going to keep telling herself.

“Wife?” he bit out tightly, reminding her that he was waiting for her to do his bidding.

“Right,” she mumbled, worrying her bottom lip as she turned around and reluctantly faced the man glaring down at her as she struggled to figure out what she was going to do.

“Call,” he said evenly, as she stood there, nodding dumbly as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Is he, ummm, like you?” she asked, and when he only continued to glare down at her, she mumbled, “I see,” as she licked her lips while she debated her options only to realize that she didn’t exactly have any.

“Do you have his phone number?” she asked, and with that, he handed her a long white envelope with the name “Trace” neatly written across it.

Reaching out with a trembling hand, she took the envelope and after a slight hesitation, she pulled a single piece of paper out and read it. When she was done, she read it again and just like that, she knew what Nathan would do.

Chapter 7

Tags: R.L. Mathewson Pyte/Sentinel Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net