Dark Need (House of Sin 3)

When he moves one foot, I up my game.

“Oh, so you’re just going to leave me here in my own filth? What kind of man does that?”

Then again, maybe he is the kind of man who would do just that.

After all, he seemed a little too familiar with that dungeon at the house.

“Aren’t you supposed to keep me safe?” I add, trying to play on his sense of honor.

He pauses and throws me that same gaze that can only be described as hungry.

And it makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as he approaches me once again. He leans in, a little too close for comfort, to the point that it makes me all hot and bothered as he presses his chest against mine, my nipples growing taut at the touch.

Then the pressure around my waist and arms is released, and the rope tumbles down to the ground.

He untied me.

“Pee.”

I make a face with an awkward smile, but he doesn’t walk off.

“I need privacy.” When he just continues to stare at me with his brows furrowed, I follow it up with, “You know … alone time.”

“I’m not looking,” he answers.

So he’s not letting me pee on my own?

I sigh out loud and roll my eyes. “Great.”

I sink to the floor right in front of him, but he doesn’t move one inch. His hand is still on the trunk of the tree as he keeps a lookout while I stare at his muscular leg, which is bigger than both my arms combined. I gulp when I tug at my pants and quietly untie the waist to pull it down, constantly peering up to see if he’s sneaking a peek.

But he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes wide open and away from me, so I take the chance and let it all out. It’s such a release that I’m not even embarrassed I’m actually doing this in front of him right now.

When I’m finished, I quickly pull up my pants and pretend everything’s fine as I clear my throat.

He looks down. “Are you done?”

I nod, but then he moves to grab the rope again, and I try to stop him by reaching for it too. “Please, don’t do that again. I promise I won’t try to escape again,” I say, looking him dead in the eyes.

We both hold the rope for a second before he points a finger in my face. “Do not run. Or there will be pain.”

I swallow hard. I won’t take that threat lightly. Not with a man like him, who seems to have the strength of a giant.

The sound of my stomach rumbling interrupts our standoff, and when he cocks his head at me, I swear I’m not trying to blush.

Finally, he releases the rope and gets up from the ground again, staring down at me like I’m some kind of pet he just unleashed.

“Sit,” he says, pointing at the fire.

I quickly get up and move to where he pointed, not wanting to anger him any further. Still, I can’t stop looking at him as he hauls two huge logs from the forest and throws them down on the ground in front of the fire. He sits down on one of them and looks at me like he’s expecting me to follow his example. When I take a seat on the other log, he takes in a deep breath and seems to settle down.

He sure likes to talk with his eyes and body, but not at all with his mouth.

And he still hasn’t told me why any of this is happening and why he picked me out of all the girls to come with him. Did he come up with this himself, or did someone put him up to this?

“Why was I separated from the girls?” When he doesn’t reply, I try something else. “Did Eli put you up to it?”

Must be. He’s the one in charge, after all.

Maybe Eli’s finally had enough, and he’s letting everyone go home.

I shake my head. These men are far too evil to be kind like that.

It must’ve been something else.

But why would Soren even do this? What if he’s a pawn in someone else’s game just like me? And would he really try to hurt me if I attempted another escape?

So many questions swirl through my mind, but every time I think of asking one, my brain steps in and reminds me that he won’t answer.

The cold in my body makes me shiver. These damp clothes don’t help much to warm up even though I’m close to the fire.

He pokes at the fire with a long branch and then throws me a glance. “Wet?”

My eyes widen, and my tongue almost rolls out of my dropped jaw.

I splutter, “W-what?”

“Your clothes,” he says, pointing at my breasts, and for some reason, my hands instinctively cover my breasts as if he’s already torn the fabric off my body.