Chapter 7 Honey & Lies
Honey & Lies
Marigold jerked as Ash placed a cold compress between her legs.
“Easy.”
Confused as to how she was back on Ash’s lap, she frowned at their surroundings. No longer in the kitchen, she wondered if she’d blacked out. “What happened?”
“I believe you caught a glimpse of euphoria.”
Last she recalled, she was plastered to the kitchen table being fisted by this complete stranger. A weak smile ghosted past her lips as she murmured, “I did it.”
“What’s that, printsessa?”
She hadn’t said stop. She submitted, and it didn’t break her. But that sense of pride was something just for her. Veiling her satisfaction, she blanked her expression and said, “Nothing.”
He pressed the cool, damp cloth against her swollen folds, but her body wasn’t as sore as she’d expected. At least not there. Her legs, however, trembled, and her throat was ravaged from screaming. How had the others not heard them?
“Do they know what you did?”
“I’m sure they watched.”
She stiffened. “What?”
He caught her chin in a gentle grip and angled her gaze toward the brass bear head in the corner. She’d seen the wall fixture in several rooms before.
“Wave, printessa.”
Her lips parted, and she shifted to close her legs.
“Uh-uh-uh.” He held her thighs apart. “I’m not finished.”
“Are they watching us now?”
“Someone’s always watching.” He slid her to the bed. The room was plain compared to the others she’d visited.
“Is this your room?”
“No. But it’s connected to one of the better bathrooms.” He disappeared through a door, and the familiar sound of rushing water met her ears. “Your bath will be ready in a few minutes. Do you need anything? How do you feel?”
“I feel…” Strange? Violated? Enlightened? Confused? Unsteady? “A lot of things.”
“Trust?”
She met his stare. “Am I allowed to say no?”
He chuckled. “Of course. But your resistance to trust will only make your part that much more challenging.”
Oddly, it was hints of his indifference that aggravated her most. “No, I don’t feel trust.”
“You will.” He held out a hand. “Come.”
He led her into one of the most opulent bathrooms she’d ever seen. White marble from floor to ceiling, and an enormous bathing pool in the center with a three-foot lip around the edge. It was something designed for gods.
Steam rose from the water as Ash set out towels, a robe, bath oils, and soaps, then poured bubble bath into the water. He swirled his fingers inside, and the scent of roses filled the air. “You can undress.”
She searched the walls. Sure enough, a small brass bear head was mounted to the center of the vanity mirror, in clear view of the bath. She stared into the bear’s eyes, hoping whoever was on the other end could see her disapproval.
She hadn’t felt ashamed until she learned they had an audience. Now, she was humiliated. How could she willingly let him do those things to her?
Removing her sweater, she held it against her chest, protectively covering her front, turning her back to the tub so the cameras couldn’t see her ass.
“Hell.” Ash was on his feet and touching her in half a second. “What have you done to yourself?”
“What?” She turned and gasped when she caught her reflection in the mirror. An angry, black bruise covered her shoulder.
“I think you’re past the point of ice, but I’ll get some anyway. Let me help you into the tub.”
He held her hand and helped her as if he were a complete gentleman, not a blackmailing pervert who just did unthinkable things to her.
She hadn’t realized how sore her body was until she sank into the warm water. Her muscles sagged with relief as the heat wrapped around her.
“I’ll be back in a moment with your ice. If you need anything…” He pointed to the brass bear.
He left her unsupervised, which should have been a relief. However, knowing she was never truly alone, she felt safer with him nearby.
A shadow passed by the frosted glass of the door—too tall to be Ash returning already. Her pulse quickened as the shadow paused, lingered, then moved on without entering.
Marigold sank lower in the water, sheltering her body beneath the foamy bubbles. She groaned into her hands. How had this become her reality?
“Hiding?”
Startled by the deep voice, she jolted with a splash. Not Ash, but Stone. “Where did you…?”
He held out a large, fabric ice pack. “For your shoulder.”
She hesitantly took the ice and draped it over the lip of the sunken tub so she could press her sore shoulder into it, her eyes never leaving Stone’s emerald stare.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, unsure if he was asking about her back, her temple, or other regions. Where was Ash? Did he know Stone was here?
Stone settled onto the lip of the tub and watched her. “You agreed.”
She nodded, but hoped he didn’t plan to take her from the warm bath to prove his authority the way Ash had.
“I watched you last night.”
She gave him her full attention as she guided bubbles over the surface to better block his view of her nudity underneath.
“From the docks. Then, through heat tracking in the storm. How are your feet?”
His awareness of such detail surprised her. She just started to regain full feeling in them. She’d been able to stand and walk, but now little pricks of pain were sneaking past the numbness.
“I asked you a question.”
“They’re sore.”
“Let me look at them.”
“I’m fine—”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Too tired to challenge him, she lifted her leg. He cupped her heel and examined a few tender spots with the pad of his thumb, then set it back in the water. “Wash them well. After your bath, we’ll wrap them.”
She was a mess.
Stone, unlike his so-called brother, understood she needed more rest before she would be fully functioning.
He pressed a button, and the water started to drain, but he turned the faucet on, refreshing the clouded water.
“Soak for as long as you like. When you’re finished, rinse off. ” He stood to leave.
“Th-thank you for the ice.”
He paused at the door but only nodded, never looking back.
She waited a long time for Ash to return, but he never did. Maybe he heard Stone had brought her the ice for her shoulder and saw no need to come back. She disliked the disappointment that followed his absence, certain only a crazy person would miss her captor.
That’s because you are crazy…
She shook off the taunting voice in her head and whispered, “I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.”
Whenever her thoughts got too dark, she needed to move. She was still too overwrought to feel settled, and she didn’t want to get too comfortable in a place that required her mind to stay sharp.
“Nice and big.” She breathed in. “Blow it out small.” She exhaled. “Just right,” she whispered, forcing herself out of the tub and into the shower.
After she rinsed off, she examined her reflection, curling a lip at the brass bear every time she recalled it was there watching her. As she moved, she swore the eyes of the brass bear moved with her.
She glared at the frozen face. “Enjoying the show?”
Rolling her eyes, she turned, lowering the towel a bit so she could glimpse the full bruise on her shoulder. It looked worse than it felt. Until she touched it. Poking the dark skin definitely was not recommended.
Tightening the towel around her chest, she returned to the empty tub and sat on the marble perimeter. What now?
She didn’t want to go back to the men, and she didn’t know where she was supposed to wait.
Should she rest? There was a perfectly tempting bed in the next room.
Sleep was all she wanted to do at that moment.
The days of running and struggling had fully caught up to her, and she felt dead on her feet.
Too exhausted to figure out a better solution, she lowered to her side and used the folded robe as a pillow under her damp hair. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she’d figure out what to do.
Next thing she knew, she was being lifted against a rock-hard chest and carried through the hall. Glancing through her lashes, she caught a spattering of scars under a jaw full of scruff and stiffened.
Hunter gave an order in Russian that commanded her to be still without translation. Where was he taking her?
He carried her through the corridor and down the steps into a vaguely familiar room. He didn’t put her down until he pulled back the covers. She recognized the armoire from last night.
“Sleep now.” He pulled the heavy covers to her chin, tucking the edges tightly around her arms in a way that made her feel slightly trapped. The enormous bed engulfed her in heavy furs and silk.
But when he removed his shirt, her relaxed state shifted abruptly to panic. “Wait.”
He stilled, one hand on his belt, eyes warning her he took orders from no one. Especially her.
Her gaze dropped to the scar on his back. The raised edges formed the familiar muzzle of a bear. That wasn’t the mark of an injury. That was burned into his skin intentionally. She wondered if it was his intention or someone else’s?
“Shut your eyes.”
“But Ash said—”
“Ash isn’t here.” He unbuckled his belt and pulled the leather free with a slithering snap.
Her heart raced as he climbed into the bed beside her, his body over the covers.
“Please don’t—” Her words cut off as his cold, black glare snapped to her face.
His laugh was gruff and dismissive. “Mne eto ne interesno, prekrasnaya lgun’ya.” Then, as if recalling she didn’t speak Russian, he translated, “I’m not interested. I am only here because I don’t trust you, prekrasnaya lgun’ya.”
He spoke as if she were a tedious inconvenience. “What does that mean, prekrasnaya lgun’ya?” She butchered the pronunciation.
“Beautiful liar. Now shut your eyes.”
She did as he commanded, but sleep was impossible. Every breath from his lungs reminded her she wasn’t alone and there was an enormous, wild, possibly-killer beside her. It also didn’t help that she was naked under the covers in only a towel.