4. Aksel
4
AKSEL
T he rain pelts down on the rusty tin roof of the carport, a steady thrum that drowns out all other sounds. I slide out from under my truck, wiping the grease from my hands onto a stained rag. My muscles ache from the physical labor, but it is a welcome distraction from the temptation sleeping just inside.
Zara.
The mere name sends a shiver down my spine. I can picture her now, tangled in the sheets, that golden hair spilling across the pillow. How easily I could slip into the bedroom, pin her delicate wrists above her head as she gasped in surprise...
I shake my head, gritting my teeth and forcing the thought away. Grabbing a wrench, I slide back under the truck's chassis, letting the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal overwhelm my senses.
It has been so long since I've had a woman in my territory. The rush of power and the thrill of subjugation are intoxicating. Zara's innocence is like a magnet to me, an untapped well of passion waiting to be broken open.
The wrench slips in my grip, clattering to the concrete. I curse under my breath and roll out to retrieve it. Through the curtain of rain, I catch a glimpse of movement from the cabin window.
Zara. Awake at last.
My body tenses, coiled like a snake about to strike. I can almost taste the metallic tang of her fear on my tongue. One misstep and those big green eyes would widen in terror as I showed her how merciless the wilderness could be.
The soft pitter-patter of footsteps on the porch makes me freeze. Zara emerges, wrapped in a blanket against the chill. Her gaze sweeps across the yard before settling on me, half-hidden under the truck.
Our eyes meet, and I see it there–a flicker of fear. It's good. She is starting to understand how isolated we are and how there is no escape from me.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I rise to my feet, the rain plastering my shirt to the contours of my chest.
She's watching me.
The thought sends a thrill down my spine as I straighten up from beneath the truck, rain sluicing down my face and chest. Zara's wide eyes find mine from across the yard.
I allow my gaze to rake over her, taking in the delicate curves outlined beneath that thin blanket. Her fingers clutch the fabric tighter as I stalk toward her, water squelching beneath my boots.
"Did you sleep well?" I ask. Up close, I detect her pulse fluttering rapidly in the hollow of her throat. Her lips part as if to answer, but she doesn't speak.
Reaching out, I hook a finger under the edge of the blanket and tug it down, exposing the shirt she's wearing. Zara gasps, a blossom of color rising in her cheeks, but she doesn't pull away.
"You're soaked," she murmurs, her gaze dropping to my shirt plastered against my chest. "You'll catch your death out here."
A chuckle spills from my lips as I close the distance between us. She shrinks back against the cabin wall, blanket clutched to her chest like a shield. I lean in close enough for our bodies to share warmth, letting my eyes bore into hers.
"I'm not so easy to kill, little bird.” My fingers find her jaw, tilting her face up to mine. "Don't worry about me. I'm the one you should be afraid of…”
She glares up at me, those emerald eyes flashing with defiance. "Why exactly?"
My lips curl at her bravado. So she wants to play brave, does she? I'll soon rid her of that naivete.
Sliding my hand from her jaw, I trail my fingertips down the slender column of her neck. Zara stiffens but doesn't pull away as I trace the throbbing pulse point beneath her ear.
"You're out here all alone with me. No one for miles to hear you scream." I lean in until my lips graze the shell of her ear, letting my hot breath fan across her skin. "I could do anything I want to you, and no one would stop me."
A tremor runs through her, and I revel in how her pupils blow wide with fear. Still, she holds my stare, that stubborn jaw setting in determination.
"You won't, though." It's a question as much as a statement, wavering ever so slightly.
Holding her gaze captive, I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “And what makes you so sure about that?"
For a beat, she’s silent, carefully weighing her next words. "If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it already." Her voice is soft. "You had plenty of chances on that drive here or last night."
"Who said anything about hurting you?" I move my hand from her chin to the back of her neck. "There are other ways I can make you scream."
I relish the flush of color that creeps into her cheeks, the telltale widening of her pupils. She is turned on, whether she'll admit it or not. The thought sends a spike of arousal through me, but I force it down.
Clearing my throat, I take a small step back, giving her some space. "You must be hungry. Can I fix you some breakfast?"
Zara blinks, looking momentarily confused by the abrupt change in topic. "Oh, um, sure. That would be great, thanks."
"Good. You go on inside and get warmed up. I'll be in shortly."
She nods, clutching the blanket tighter around her slim shoulders as she turns toward the cabin. I watch her retreat, admiring the sway of her hips.
Ducking back under the carport, I grab a rag and wipe the grease from my hands and arms. The physical labor has done little to distract me from her temptation. But I must be patient because rushing things now wouldn't be wise. All my plans shattered last night, and I need to reevaluate my next steps.
Once I'm sufficiently cleaned up, I head into the house. Zara sits at the small kitchen table, blanket draped around her. She offers me a tentative smile as I enter.
"I hope you're in the mood for eggs," I say, moving toward the stove. "It's about all I've got at the moment."
"Eggs sound great."
I can feel her eyes on me as I work, cracking the eggs into a bowl and whisking them together. The domesticity of the scene feels strange. I'm used to being alone and having Zara in my space makes everything feel off-kilter.
When the eggs are cooked, I serve them on two plates with toast. Zara thanks me when I set the plate down in front of her.
"Eat up," I say, sitting across from her. "You'll need your strength to survive this place."
She nods, picking up her fork. I watch her over my own plate, hyper-aware of every small movement. She tucks her hair behind her ear, the flutter of her lashes as she glances at me and then away. So innocent. So ripe for the taking.
I spear another bite of eggs, tearing my gaze away. I had intended to lure her out into the wilderness and take my time hunting and playing with her before putting a quick end to it. A hunting accident, a tragic disappearance—the wilderness has a way of swallowing up the weak. No one would've batted an eye at a scientist going missing here. It’s the way I keep my hunger for blood under control, luring unsuspecting tourists here under the pretext of help.
But one look into those wide, innocent eyes and my plans unraveled like a stray thread pulled loose. The temptation to claim her, to strip away that naive purity and make her truly mine, is overwhelming. Like a wolf scenting its mate, my most primal instincts were instantly, irrevocably triggered.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Fuck's sake Aksel, get a grip before you do something rash and ruin everything.
Taking slow, even breaths, I force myself to focus on the sound of the rain pattering against the roof.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. Steady and calm.
When I open my eyes again, Zara watches me with that same cautious curiosity as if sensing the war raging inside me. A shiver rolls down my spine, and I grip the table's edge to avoid reaching for her and pulling her into my lap.
"Is everything okay?" she asks.
I nod once, fixing her with an inscrutable stare. "Just need some air."
Rising abruptly from the table, I make my way toward the door. Zara doesn't try to stop me as I pull on my boots and jacket, letting the door slam shut behind me.
When I step onto the porch, the crisp scent of pine and fresh rain hits me. I inhale deeply, letting it clear my head. Out here, surrounded by the looming trees and rugged peaks, I can almost convince myself I'm still in control.
Almost.
Jaw clenched tight, I start pacing the porch like a caged animal. The wet boards slap against the soles of my boots, the rhythmic sound helping to soothe the savage creature pacing inside me.
I am the master of my own fate. I've spent years cultivating my skills, honing myself into the perfect apex predator. Stalking, subduing, killing—it's what I was born for. And no pretty little thing will derail me, no matter how intoxicating she might be.
Slowing to a stop at the far end of the porch, I brace my hands on the damp railing and gaze out over the forest. The heavy clouds have parted just enough to allow a few slanting rays of sunlight to streak through, gilding the rain-soaked trees and peaks in soft golden light.
I take another deep, steadying breath and nod once to myself.
Time to get back on track.