Chapter 11 Alaric
ALARIC
He almost had her, Alaric felt it in the sway of her body towards him as he held her tight in his grip, the taste of her fresh and tart on his lips.
A heady mix of fear tinged with the slightest hint of what was unmistakably desire.
And then, Hanna blinked, her gaze growing clear.
Those luscious lips set themselves in a thin line, and a mulish expression closed over her lovely face.
“No,” she said, pulling away from his grasp, moving to stand closer to the fire so that the fine hairs at the crown of her head stirred in the heat radiating off the blaze. “No, I will not.”
Alaric clenched his teeth, grimacing as his eyes narrowed. “No, you will not have me, or no, you will not let me know you.”
Hanna narrowed her eyes at him in return, her chin lifting defiantly.
Gods, she was a vision, with her dress plastered to her slim form, cheeks flaring pink as she challenged him.
“Neither,” she said simply.
Leaving no room for discussion or negotiation. No matter the spark that had flared between them when their lips had pressed together for that heady kiss.
Alaric felt his temper flare dangerously hot. But he would not let this woman see how she affected him. Hanna was his, whether she acknowledged it or not.
She would soon see, and the victory would be even sweeter for her struggle to escape his snare.
“Very well,” Alaric growled, snatching his coat from the seat of the chair where it was drying and pulling it on roughly, his muscles bunching with frustration and the lingering twitch of excitement.
“We will see, Miss Hanna.”
He gave her one last look, letting his gaze travel over her form with brazen possessiveness, wanting her to feel his brand on her.
Then Alaric turned on his heel and strode out into the rain, not looking back even once as he stalked through the sodden foliage, his feet taking him automatically to the hidden paths and trails they knew so well.
He needed to walk, and to think.