he’d created this Adonis.
In one word, he was delicious. And he looked dangerous…
“Who are you?”
“I live here,” he answered blandly, his accent thick, his voice deep.
“That doesn’t really tell me anything,” I replied, my voice stern.
He grunted and shrugged as he plopped a dead bird on the table and headed for the kitchen. He looked like he belonged in this setting of the wild woods. But I gagged as I stared at the poor being he’d just plopped on the table like it had never lived.
Was I dreaming? Maybe I was still asleep and whatever had knocked me out was still working its magic on my mind. I glanced at him again. He appeared to be at least six foot six of pure muscle with a chiselled, masculine jawline that made me want to stare at him. Despite the fact that I knew he’d killed the creature, butterflies danced in my belly. My eyes grew wide, hungry when he walked back into the room. I glanced at his face, and his eyes drew me. Dark, brooding eyes. Fierce when they locked on me. I felt like we were the only humans in this world.
I swallowed hard and suddenly felt a sense of intimidation. Were we alone in this cabin? How did he find me and then bring me back here? I felt exposed.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked again, sounding more confident than I felt. “And how did I get here?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. He lifted his hand toward his scar but stopped himself as if he was set on not being self-conscious about it. Curious.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
God, when he spoke, the sound of his voice tugged at something deep inside me. His voice was like velvet, sliding over my skin. Deep, baritone. Delicious. And he spoke with an accent I could only guess to be Russian. God, it sounded dangerous. Like those big bodyguards in movies. Or the leaders of some scary mob that did horrible things to people who crossed them.
I shivered. This couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be one of those… he was just a man.
In a cabin.
In the middle of the woods.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, my fear translating into anger.
He chuckled, and the sound rumbled in his chest. He walked to the little table in the corner, a knife in his hand as if he planned to butcher the creature, a turkey, I thought, right there in the cabin. I curled away in horror.
“Did you… kill that?”
He looked at the bird as if only noticing it and nodded. “You must eat.”
“There’s no way I’m eating an animal you just killed. You did just kill it, right?” I asked, aghast at the sight.
He only crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me with an amused smile. “Who do you work for?”
“What?” Why was he answering my questions with questions?
“You are here for who?” His accent, the way he expressed himself, made me swoon.
This guy was interrogating me, and I couldn’t help but think that he sounded hella sexy talking to me like that. Of course, he was Russian. There was something about his rugged appearance that made me want…
Oh please woman! You’ve never been with a man like him. You wouldn’t know the first thing to do with him.
“How about I tell you a little about me?” I said, hoping to break the ice and distract myself from his physique. “I work for an insurance company, for the time being, and I live with my mother, who’s probably looking for me.” I hoped my hint that I would be missed would keep him from killing me in the middle of nowhere, though I didn’t get a serial killer vibe from him. Just an I want to fuck him vibe, which I needed to ignore.
When he didn’t respond, I stated rather harshly, “I don’t appreciate being kept here against my will.”
He looked confused. “Against your will?”
“Stop doing that!” I cried, afraid and frustrated. “You either ignore me completely or answer my question with a question.”
He shrugged nonchalantly and didn’t speak.
Practically growling, I grumbled, “Why the hell am I wearing a t-shirt? Did you undress me?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You were bleeding. Would you rather I let you die slowly?”
“And you thought you needed to take off my clothes without my consent?”
He frowned. “I’ll take note. Next time, I let you bleed out. Saves me the trouble.” He turned his back on me, laid the knife next to