“She is everything I have.”
She looked on the verge of tears. He forced himself to sound calmer. “And that’s why you could slit her throat the second I gave her to you. You’re both my responsibility. I said I would keep you safe. I don’t want you to hurt her or yourself.”
“I had the knife since breakfast,” she told him. “You sent me into the room with Emily. I didn’t kill her. If I’d tried, you couldn’t have stopped me . . .”
“Henry was monitoring your mind. Had your stress level spiked, he would’ve shut you down.”
“Then ask him if I tried to kill her or myself. I had the opportunity. I got the knife so I could hurt you. Not myself.”
Lucas rose and crossed the tub, pinning her between his body and the tub wall. The feel of her body against his shoved him right to the edge. In his mind all the leashes he put on himself were snapping one by one. Karina turned to the side, trying to hide from him.
“Look at me.”
Karina looked at him. Lucas peered into her eyes, looking for some sort of indicator of sanity. “If you had a loaded gun in your hand, would you shoot me?”
“No. If I killed you, I would be next. Either Daniel, Henry, or Arthur would murder me, and Emily would have nobody.”
An honest rational answer. “Do you want to die?” He wanted her. He wanted to crush her in his arms and see her want him.
“No.” She shook her head.
“What do you want?” He knew what he wanted. She was right there, caught against his chest. His heart was beating too fast.
“I want to escape,” she told him. “I want to go back to my life.”
She was sane and stable, or as sane as he could expect. Lucas released her and Karina scrambled away from him.
“What would you do if I let you have your daughter, Karina?”
She stopped. He read the answer on her face. Anything. She would do anything. She would let him do anything, and if he demanded, she would pretend to like it.
It was the answer his mother would’ve given.
“What do you want?” she asked hoarsely. He felt the tension hidden in her words, as if she stood on the edge of a chasm, waiting for him to push her in.
“Can you bake a chocolate cake?”
There was a tiny pause before she answered. “Yes.”
“Make one. For Daniel. It’s his favorite.”
She waited. When he didn’t say anything, she finally asked, “That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Lucas waited for relief on her face, but she just sat there, clenched up. Still looking for the catch, he realized.
“You’ll really let me have her?” He barely heard her voice. “No conditions?”
“Yes.” And the more fool he for it. Nothing good would come of it, not with the way they fought. Henry would think him insane. But Lucas felt weary. He didn’t have the strength to fight yet another war. And he didn’t want her to be miserable. “Make a list of what you both will need, and I’ll send it to the main house tomorrow. Last time I checked, you could buy Hello Kitty blankets in any department store . . .”
Karina covered her face and cried.
He sat there and watched her shudder and sob, not knowing what to do with himself. Uncomfortable, as if he were intruding on something private. Guilt rose in him and he wasn’t sure where it came from.
“Stop,” Lucas growled finally.
“I can’t.”
Her sobs died gradually. She splashed some water on her face. “Can I stay with her in her room?”
“No. You’ll stay with me.”
“Can I sleep on the floor?”
“No. You’ll sleep in my bed, just like last night.”
“Why?”
Because you’re mine. And because he would know if she got up in the middle of the night. “Because I want it that way.”
“I could—”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Quiet. No more talking.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER 6
Karina awoke alone. She dimly recalled seeing Lucas get out of the water, his huge muscled body wet, and feeling a sharp inner clench, the same clench that gripped her when he’d caught her in the tub. She would’ve liked to pretend it was fear or anxiety, but that would mean lying to herself. When he rose to show her the bruises Daniel had made, she stared at him for a moment too long and it wasn’t to study his injured ribs.
Lucas had brought her a towel and when he turned away, giving her a fragile illusion of privacy, she’d draped it around herself and escaped into the bedroom. He didn’t follow her. She toweled off, slipped on the giant T-shirt he’d given her, and slid into bed, curling under the blanket into a worried ball. Her nervousness should’ve kept her awake, but her body simply gave out. Lucas took his time getting to bed and by the time he lay down on the other side, she was half asleep. He asked her something, but her feverish haze mugged her and dragged her under into a dreamless sleep.
Karina struggled to sit up. She felt the steady heat of her slowly burning, low fever. At least she was alive. She forced herself all the way up. Her head swam and the dizziness nearly took her back down.
Up. Up, come on, you can do it.
And now she was talking to herself. Outstanding.
Karina walked to the shower, swaying on wobbling feet. She’d rinsed her underwear last night, and it still hung on the towel hook where she’d left it. Karina touched it. Dry. She slipped the panties on and went to use the bathroom.
A couple of minutes later she made it to the sink. A new toothbrush, still in its case, waited for her. Karina stared at it.
Lucas hadn’t kidnapped her. He hadn’t forced her into human slavery at gunpoint. She’d been attacked by Rishe and the shark-toothed man, and she’d been given a choice: to die or to live on Lucas’s terms. She was a victim of circumstance. That didn’t change the fact that Lucas owned her now.
The House of Daryon had stripped every shred of independence from her. She depended on Lucas for everything: her food, her safety, her clothes, the safety and survival of her daughter. He had the power to tell her when to go to bed, where to sleep, when to shower . . . He was protecting her and Emily from some sort of terrible enemy she couldn’t understand and he could kill them both at a moment’s notice. Any relaxation of the rules became a kindness on his part. A small thing, like a toothbrush, seemed like some great favor. But it wasn’t, she told herself. It wasn’t. It was a basic necessity for any human being.
Then again, she could’ve been a slave without any freedom at all. She could’ve lost her daughter. She could’ve been raped. All he had to do was say, “I’ll give you your daughter,” and she would’ve done anything. The very fact that he thought to leave her a toothbrush was a small miracle.
Her own drive to survive was interfering with her sense of reality. Her instincts drove her to forge an emotional bond. The more Lucas liked her, the less likely he was to murder her or Emily. The more she liked him . . .
Karina took a deep breath. Lucas was physically overwhelming. The memory of his arms around her flashed before her. Lucas was . . . He was . . .
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Just say it. Say it, acknowledge it, and walk away from it.
Seductive. Desirable. Shocking. He was masculine in the way women fantasized men to be: powerful, strong, dangerous. If she had met him at a party or in a professional setting, when he wore a suit and she wore something other than his T-shirt and a pair of underwear she’d washed in the shower, she would’ve sought him out. If he had spoken to her, she would’ve been flattered.
For a while, after Jonathan’s death, she was so wrapped up in guilt, and in Emily’s well-being, she forgot men existed. It took almost a year before she became aware of them again: a man with a nice smile in the checkout line, a random stranger in good shape stepping out of the car in the parking spot next to her. A small part of her wanted to be noticed again and checked to see if she was. She was vulnerable and the way Lucas looked at her left her no doubt that if she gave him the tiniest indication that she wanted him, he would rush to oblige and mow down whatever stood in his way.
There was an odd desperation in Lucas under all that violence. Karina sensed a deep overpowering need to be . . . not accepted exactly, but to be liked. If she were ruthless, she would seduce him to make sure he would become dependent on her, but that kind of manipulation was beyond her. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Karina looked at her reflection. She could practically see him in the mirror next to her. She could recall him with crystal clarity: every powerful line of his body; the promise of raw violence in the way he moved; the precise curve of his mouth, almost sardonic; the look in his eyes, the wild, unfiltered look of pure male lust. No, more than lust. Need.
Thinking of him was like playing with fire.
She had been married; she knew very well that a healthy relationship hinged on respect and constant compromise. With Lucas there could be no respect and no compromise, because they were not equals. He owned her. She was his property and once she opened the door to a relationship, he wouldn’t let her close it.
Karina shut her eyes. She could picture herself wrapped in those powerful arms. It would feel safe, so safe. Her life was broken like a mirror and the shards kept cutting her fingers. She was desperate to forget that she was little more than a slave. She craved that illusion of safety as if it were a drug and she had to score a hit. She wanted to feel the heat of his strong body warming her skin. And she wanted to see him bend, to find out what it would be like to see the vulnerability of intimacy in those hard eyes. She was completely powerless and she needed to feel powerful, as a woman does who is wanted so badly by a man, he would do anything for her.
There it was. All of it, out in the open.
You’re sick, she told her reflection.
Well, now it was out. She owned all of it.
She had to keep things in perspective. He was strong and she was weak and vulnerable and not in her right mind. She would take it one day at a time, wait until the last of the poison cleared out of her system, and when a chance to escape presented itself, she would take it—and they would never find her and Emily again. And if she let herself buy into her own lies, she would never wonder what it would have been like to feel him inside her . . . She cut off that thought. The less she imagined it, the better.