Chapter 10 Lena
Lena
Two whole days snowed in at Killian’s cabin, had me memorizing every knot in the wooden beams on his ceiling. Not that I minded staring at the beams while he fucked me senseless, but a girl was starting to miss her own space.
I’d even caught myself rearranging the toilet paper in his bathroom, and doing some of his laundry.
The next morning I’d gotten up and made us both coffee and cooked a small breakfast of eggs and bacon with orange slices as if I were some domestic goddess.
Girl you need to take your ass home, I thought while standing by the window and staring out at the snow that had finally stopped falling. The world outside was blanketed in white, pristine and untouched and beautiful in its isolation.
"You okay?" Killian's voice came from behind me.
I turned to find him watching me from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, his dark hair still messy from sleep and sex.
"Yeah, just antsy," I admitted. "I really need to get back to my cabin."
"I know." He set the mug down and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to take care of the tree today, I promise."
"You said that yesterday."
"The chainsaw wouldn't start yesterday, but I got it working this morning." His tone was patient, almost too patient. "Give me a few hours and the road will be clear."
I wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, because staying here much longer felt dangerous in a way I couldn't quite name.
"Okay," I said finally. "A few hours."
He crossed the room, kissed my forehead with a tenderness that made my chest ache. "I'll have you home before you know it."
Then he grabbed his dark coat that would shield him from the cold and headed outside, leaving me completely alone.
For the first hour, I just sat by the fire scrolling through my phone, but there was still no service.
I'd tried to use Killian's landline yesterday to call Randall, but Killian had made the call for me, explaining that I needed a few days off.
I hadn't actually spoken to my boss myself, and the thought nagged at me like a splinter I couldn't quite reach.
Stop being paranoid, I told myself.
Killian had been nothing but good to me, sweet, attentive, making me feel wanted in a way I hadn't felt in years.
So why does something feel a little off?
I stood up and paced the living room, my eyes landing on the hallway I hadn't fully explored yet. There was a door at the end that Killian said was his office, and he'd told me I could go anywhere in the cabin.
So technically, I wasn't snooping.
Right?
Taking a breath, I walked down the hallway and pushed the door open.
The office was neat, almost obsessively so, with a desk, a computer, a bookshelf, and a workbench in the corner with tools scattered across it.
Sitting on that workbench in a box that hadn't been opened were battery cables, and when I walked over to check the label, my heart started to race.
The date on the receipt next to the box was from three weeks ago.
Before my car had supposedly broken down.
No, this didn't mean anything and maybe he'd ordered the wrong part, maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. I set the box down and turned to the desk where his computer sat with the screen dark but not locked.
Bitch, don’t look…
I absolutely should not.
But my hand was already moving, touching the mouse, bringing the screen to life.
Files and folders and spreadsheets for work filled the desktop, and then my gaze caught on a folder in the bottom left corner labeled "Lena." My stomach dropped as the click from the mouse echoed throughout the room and the folder expanded.
Photos.
Dozens of them.
My cabin from the outside, time-stamped weeks ago, some from before I'd even moved in. Me through the window sitting at my kitchen table. Me getting out of my car. Me walking to the gallery.
My hands started shaking as I clicked another folder and found videos and trail cam footage of me arriving the first day, carrying boxes inside. Another video of me in my cabin through the window, drawing at my table. Another of me sleeping in my fucking bed.
Oh God.
I stumbled back from the desk, my breath coming in short gasps, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. He'd been watching me for weeks, since the day I moved in, maybe longer.
That's when I saw the shelf and everything on it, my coffee mug with the chipped handle I thought I'd lost, my blue scarf I'd searched everywhere for. And tucked in the back was my missing sketchbook page, the woman with antlers. And beside that…
My dirty panties…
"No," I whispered, the word catching in my throat.
This wasn't coincidence, the car, the tree, the storm. He'd planned all of it, orchestrated everything to get me here, to keep me here.
How long had he been in my cabin? How many times? Had he been there while I was sleeping?
I needed to leave, needed to get out now, and I scrambled toward the front door only to find it locked from the outside. The back door was locked too, and when I tried the windows, every single one was secured.
Panic clawed at my chest as the realization hit me, I was trapped, actually trapped.
"Lena?"
I spun around to find Killian standing in the hallway with snow still dusting his shoulders, that chainsaw nowhere in sight. How long had he been inside? How much had he seen?
"Let me out," I said, my voice shaking. "Let me out right now."
He didn't move, just stood there watching me with those too-blue eyes that suddenly looked different,darker, more intense, predatory in a way that made my pulse race for all the wrong reasons.
"You've been watching me," I said, my voice breaking. "You've been in my cabin, you took my things, you…" I held up the battery cable box. "You sabotaged my fucking car."
He still didn't say anything, just looked at me with an expression I couldn't read, and then he smiled. That slow, dangerous smile I'd thought was charming now looked like something else entirely.
"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," he said quietly, and the words hit me like a physical blow.
"How long?" I demanded, backing up as he stepped toward me. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Since the day you moved in." He said it so calmly, like he was telling me about the weather.
"That's insane, you're insane."
"Maybe, but you already knew that, didn't you?" Another step closer. "Some part of you felt it and you stayed anyway."
"I didn't stay, you trapped me here!"
"Did I?" His head tilted slightly. "Or did you want an excuse?"
My back hit the wall and there was nowhere left to go as he closed the distance between us, his hands bracing on either side of my head, caging me in. I could smell him, woodsmoke and soap and something darker that made my head spin.
"You can be angry, Lena," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You can call me every name in the book, but we both know the truth."
"What truth?" I spat, even as my body betrayed me by leaning slightly toward him.
"You wanted this." His eyes searched mine. "Maybe not consciously, maybe not in a way you'd admit, but you wanted someone to see you, to pay attention, to make you feel like you mattered."
Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and unwanted. "Not like this."
"Exactly like this." His thumb brushed away a tear with a gentleness that made me want to scream. "You don't want some boring guy who plays by the rules, you want someone who'll burn the world down to keep you."
"You're sick," I whispered, but the words came out breathless instead of angry.
"I know." He leaned in, his lips almost brushing my ear. "And you're mine."
My body was responding in ways my mind couldn't process, heat pooling low in my belly even as fear coursed through my veins. This was wrong, all of this was so fucking wrong, but when his hand came up to cup my face, I didn't pull away.
"Tell me you don't feel it," he murmured against my skin. "Tell me you don't get wet thinking about how I've watched you, how I've been in your space, how I know every little thing about you."
I should have been horrified, should have been screaming, but instead a whimper escaped my lips.
"That's what I thought," he said, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "You like being wanted this much. You like knowing someone is obsessed with you."
"This is kidnapping," I managed to say, but my voice was weak, unconvincing.
"This is devotion." He said it with such certainty that I almost believed him. "Obsessive, fucked up, probably illegal devotion, but devotion nonetheless."
His other hand slid down my side, fingers pressing into my hip, and I couldn't stop the way my body arched into his touch. I hated myself for it, hated how much I wanted him even knowing what he'd done, but the desire was overwhelming.
"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.
His smile widened as he pressed his body against mine, letting me feel exactly how hard he was. "I'm going to keep you, take care of you, make sure you never want for anything."
"And if I try to leave?"
"You won't." His hand slid under my shirt, fingers splaying across my stomach. "Because I'll make you love me back, I'll make you need me the way I need you, and by the time I'm done, the thought of leaving will terrify you more than staying ever could."
A sob tore from my throat, but it sounded more like a moan, and when his lips found my neck, I tilted my head to give him better access.
"Please," I tried one more time, but I didn't know what I was asking for anymore.
"Tell me you want this," he growled against my skin. "Tell me you want me."
I should have said no, should have fought harder, but when his hand slid between my legs and found me wet and ready, all my resistance crumbled.
A moan so soft escaped from between my lips I found myself disgusted with myself, that my body would betray me like this.
Slowly, I ground myself against his hand, wanting more.
Wanting relief, almost as if I were starved for it.
"I want…" The words caught in my throat.
"Say it, Lena…"
"I want you," I gasped, and the confession felt like both a surrender and a relief.
Killian pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with possession and something else, something that looked almost like love.
"Good girl," he murmured. "Now let me show you exactly what it means to be mine."