Dark Possession - Aja James Page 0,5

been sobbing or shaking with fright and apprehension, she remained quiet and calm.

Surreptitiously, she sniffed the air around her.

It was cool and fresh, which told her that she was far from any populous city. Fresher than even in the suburbs.

Leaves rustled overhead as a chilly breeze swept through.

She was definitely in a forest. Perhaps in the mountains.

But where exactly?

She was urged to move again by a forceful shove in the back.

The hand stayed in the middle of her back to guide her, given that she was still blindfolded and didn’t know where she was going.

Several times, she stumbled over rocks and roots. Rough hands yanked her up and pushed her to keep walking.

Where were her captors taking her?

There was more than one of them. All male, by Eveline’s estimation, according to the weight of their steps and the smells of their bodies. Somewhat odiferous from exertion.

There was one in the front who sometimes waited for the others to draw closer before moving on again. There was one in the rear, she could hear. And there was one who kept pace with her, often pushing and pulling her where he wanted her to go.

They didn’t speak to her or to each other. But they were able to act in perfect coordination. Perhaps they used hand gestures as ancient warriors and human soldiers did?

They didn’t mistreat her.

Much.

They were simply executing a mission, Eveline guessed.

But what was their mission? What did they want with her?

Since she had nothing better to do, Eveline began to weave a story around her…unexpected adventure.

Perhaps she was captured for some ancient ritualistic sacrifice for some secret society of demons and goblins that couldn’t be looked upon, or she’d be turned to stone. Hence the blindfold.

Well, that was rather gruesome. Scratch that.

Perhaps some enterprising, doting papa was misguidedly stealing brides for his son—or rather just the one bride, because Eveline was not a fan of harems—and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he just happened to prefer only Pure females.

If this little fairytale were true, she hoped her intended Mate was tall, but not too tall, since Eveline herself was rather petite. She hated to be dwarfed by intimidatingly large males.

He ought to be lean and hard, but not too muscular. In fact, the less muscle the better. She couldn’t imagine herself pressed up against a stony chest and steely stomach. The prospect made her wince; it just didn’t seem comfortable in any way.

No, she preferred a gentle sort of male.

Kindly. Scholarly. Someone with whom she could have intellectually stimulating discussions. Who wore glasses in the most attractive, elegantly masculine way.

Her ideal male had light blue eyes, pale, hairless skin and full, kissable lips. His voice might be a clear tenor, perfect for singing folk ballads. (She rather fancied ballads). He’d have buttery blond hair, wispy like feathers.

His lovemaking would be tender and gentle. He’d whisper sweet nothings in her ear and hold her close afterwards, but not too close, because Eveline believed emphatically in personal space. It would be a civilized, satisfying affair. And it would occur with no greater frequency than once a week.

Her ideal male would certainly not engage in the sweaty animal rutting that Eveline read and heard about. Her newly discovered friend, Aella, the Strategist among the Dozen, liked to relate all the sweaty, naughty details and watch Eveline’s ears and cheeks burn.

On second thought, no, thank you.

She didn’t really want to voluntarily or involuntarily bind herself to some hapless male, kissable full lips notwithstanding.

She was perfectly happy by herself. The opposite sex was more trouble than they were worth, in Eveline’s considered opinion.

Her captor jerked her forward when her musings slowed her pace.

Alas, her theories were getting increasingly far-fetched. A self-protective mechanism that helped her avoid the most probable scenario, given all the facts she’d mentally collected thus far.

What were the odds that her Eternal Mate awaited her at her unknown destination?

A big fat zero, was what they were.

Finally, her toes stubbed into a concrete block.

Steps?

She heard a door creak open, and then she was pushed again to climb up the steps.

“Leave us.”

Eveline’s entire body went on red alert.

All of her fine hairs stood on end, bristling with awareness. She barely heard the retreating footsteps of the males who brought her here after the door was shut.

That voice.

It was the only voice she’d heard in all this time. At least thirty-six hours of captivity.

And what a voice it was.

Deeply masculine, husky, and rough.

Sinful.

But she didn’t