Chapter 10
Lana
“I’m here.”
His words echo in my mind, and those gorgeous eyes are etched onto my brain. Was it all a dream? No time to think about that, it’s time for me to wake up.
I want to open my eyes, but the light is hurting them. I blink fast a couple of times and lick the inside of my mouth. I keep my eyes closed, so as not to overwhelm them immediately, but my nose picks up a smell.
Is that chamomile? And do I sense a hint of cinnamon?
I open my eyes, and I must be dreaming because this isn’t my house.
“I’m here.”
I bite on my lower lip to suppress a nervous smile.
This isn’t my shitty apartment. I’m currently in what can only be described as a mansion.
The room I am in has stylish black walls, four floor-to-ceiling windows, light beige wooden floors, and a fireplace.
I’m sitting on the couch with two brown leather chaise lounges on each side and a beautiful glass table.
This place screams luxury.
I slowly sit up and notice that it’s still dark outside. The moon is barely shining through the windows, but the small sliver of light behind clouds is casting a shadow over me, without a glimmer of hope.
I sit up straight now, but my body just isn't cooperating. To avoid any risks of getting up too fast and fainting, I slump deeper into the very comfortable couch.
I rub my hands over my eyes and sigh loudly.
“I thought you might be awake. I made some chamomile tea, and the cinnamon roll has been heated up.”
“What the fuck?” My sense of awareness suddenly heightens. He sets down a tray that is indeed filled with a cup of chamomile tea and a cinnamon roll.
I keep glancing over at him while he is putting sugar in my tea. He hands me the mug, and I accept it.
I look down into the mug and give him a questionable look.
“I didn’t poison your tea, if that’s what you are thinking,” he says with that stupid grin of his.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” I answer while I take a sip of my tea.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Wait, why the fuck are you talking to me like you know me?” My question makes him grin. He grabs a pack of cigarettes from his delectable jeans and lights one up. I watch as he takes a drag and blows out a cloud of smoke.
“Because I do.”
I pick up a cinnamon roll with my right hand and take a bite while I study his face.
If only he weren’t this fucking gorgeous.
His hair is black, medium length on top with neater sides. Well fucking kempt.
His jawline is so sharp that a knife wouldn’t be needed to cut into meat.
But his eyes are what’s drawing me to him—black, gorgeous eyes with amber speckles.
“Are you studying me, little hummingbird?” His voice is even deeper than I remember. “From your expression, I can tell that you do remember me.”
I set my cinnamon roll and tea down and clean my hands off my clothes. “No, no, I don’t.” My innocence is like armor at this point. I can’t let him see the real me.
The depraved me.
I can’t let him know that somehow, I crave him even though I shouldn’t.
He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table, and then he stands up.
Fuck.
He is around six-six and not only is he tall, but you can tell he takes care of his body.
M turns around and looks at me from head to toe.
Not a single word is spoken, but a lot is said.
With every growing second of his eyes devouring my body, I am becoming restless. The only light that’s illuminating this entire room is coming from the flames of the fireplace.
And they are burning behind him. Like the devil he is.
I click my tongue behind my teeth and place my hands beside me, wanting some control over the situation. I need to regain my stability because his hungry stare is consuming me.
His movements come across as if he is truly seeing me for the first time. While he is tracing me, I study him.
M’s fists are clenched beside him, his chest heaving up and down, licking his lips.
His subtle movements make the air crackle between us, and the tension intensifies. I feel his presence pressed up against me, even though he is a few feet away. The invisible line between us keeping our desires interlocked.
What fucking desires? I don’t even know him.
At the exact moment, our gazes meet.
The simple act of blinking is not something I can do right now. In this moment, the demons that surround us are even quieter, anticipating what we are going to do.
M rolls his sleeves up, and I get a peek at his tattoos. And they are magnificent.
This day keeps on getting shittier by the fucking second. I want to hate this man, but he is making it impossible by looking like sex on legs.
I soften my gaze by relaxing my forehead and thinking about the man in front of me. He is my primary focus because I need to get the fuck out of here.
In my peripheral view, I see the big windows that are probably impossible to open. My next step is to look behind M, and there are two possible escape routes: the door to the terrace and some stairs leading up to another floor.
When I look at M again, he cocks his head with a boyish grin on his face.
“Do you honestly think you can escape me?” he asks me incredulously.
“I know I can.” My answer makes him pout his lips and furrow his brow.
“If you want to, we can put your theory to the test.” Without waiting for a response, he goes to the door to the terrace and leaves it wide open.
What the fuck is he doing? The slow burn of this ridiculous situation is making me feel all tingly, which makes me sit up straighter. And when his gaze settles upon me, he licks his lips, and he looks like he feels like he accomplished something.
Probably my demise.
In a couple of quick strides, he is standing before me again, and then he kneels. We are now at eye level, and we are so close I can feel his breath. My own breaths are unsteady, and I can hear every intake.
“I’ll even give you a head start.” His voice is addictive.
“What?” I can’t believe I have to entertain this.
“I will go upstairs to my balcony to watch you while you run,” he says nonchalantly, but I know what he is doing. His voice and demeanor may be steady, but his eyes betray him. His pupils are dilated, and he is looking at me like a lion looks at a gazelle.
Prey.
The room disappears, and in this whole, wide, wicked world, only we are left. Our bodies are here, our minds are reeling, and words are left unspoken. Outside, it’s below zero degrees, but inside, it’s a furnace.
My eyes almost pop out of my sockets because of his insane request.
“You must be joking. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you do that?”
Innocence, Lana. You don’t want to make him angry.
M puts his tongue between his teeth and raises his eyebrows. In an instant, he grabs me by the back of my head and pulls my face closer to his.
Our lips are so close that if I opened my mouth, it would brush against his. He inches closer, and I feel the heat in my body rising. My hands are still on my sides, sweaty now, and I’m dying to move the one single strand of hair from his forehead.
I’m avoiding his gaze, focusing my attention on other parts of his face because I don’t trust myself.
M catches on to my hesitation and grabs my chin by cupping it in his hand. His soft skin is caressing me like that of a gentle lover.
But his eyes will never lie.
M is not fucking gentle.
“Lana, does it seem like I’m joking?” he asks me with more urgency now. I softly shake my head, and M brings his lips close to my left ear. “When I’m upstairs, you’ll go to the terrace, and then I will tell you to start running. I’ll give you fifteen seconds to escape me.”
“What if I don’t?” I ask him in a low tone. My question is barely above a whisper.
“Then I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. Do you want that?” He lets go of my hair and stands up to look at me. After a moment, I give him my answer.