Cemetery, spell casting, demon zombie screaming her name, then to bed. She gasped as she recalled waking up to two men and that nasty roaring she’d heard in the cemetery. The demon had followed her. And men were trying to steal her.
Spinning around, she caught sight of a man standing at an archway window looking out.
Shoot, that wasn’t a man.
As silently as she could, she kept her eyes on him and backed up. Don’t hear me. The man was huge, though not in a steroid taking, pumping iron way. He was tall with shoulders that filled the wide-open window. Damn, that window really needed bars or something over it to keep people from, oh, falling to their deaths. His back and lean hips caught her attention next. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt and matching pants yet the simple ensemble made him look dangerous in an “I’m completely normal” way. Even his hair was dark. Long too, pulled back in a severe tie at the back of his head.
Three more, silent steps backwards on the freezing cold floor beneath her bare feet.
“Surely you at least wish to know who I am before you leave.” She jumped at the sound of his voice and tripped over a table behind her.
She toppled to the ground, her butt skidding on the cold stone floor in a clump. Quickly disentangling herself, she stood, clutching the towel tighter around her. His voice...It was cold and hard. It held a tone that could mistakenly be construed as passive or bored but she was sure was just indifference. Was this what a killer sounded like? He could talk to you in that detached voice as he swung the sword that would take your head.
She thought briefly about righting the table she knocked over but decided edging towards the huge double-sided door was the smarter idea. Escape. She took another silent step towards those doors.
He turned towards her and her feet stopped moving. It was the complete opposite of what she should be doing, yet she couldn’t will her body to move anymore than she could tear her eyes away from him.
She knew who he was in an instant. It didn’t matter that she’d never met him or even had one iota of what he looked like before. One did not become commander of a legion of vampires that fought demons for a living without getting that cold, hard look in his eyes.
A deep scar was set into his skin underneath his right eye. It was jagged and reached from his nose to his temple. It must be old because it wasn’t red with freshness, but a paler shade of his skin. His hair formed a widow’s peak that somehow made him look more severe...and even more intriguingly handsome. Chloe tried to recall the last time a man had her staring but couldn’t think of one. Yet this man commanded her attention with his very presence, without words or actions.
He stood straight and erect as if he was about to command armies to attack not have a conversation. This man was Commander Tyrian en Kulev, the scariest man on the face of the earth. And he wanted to talk to her. Hell, he technically owned her thanks to her father’s insane will.
Right, time to go, Chloe thought, and edged towards the door. He merely watched her. “If you will not have this conversation with me then you will only make things harder on yourself, Ms. Bellum.” She winced at the use of her name. But his words worked. She stood frozen, clutching the small hotel towel like it could save her from this man.
A swarm of emotions flitted through her as he simply watched her with those tracking, deadly eyes. With one look, he managed to make her feel like the sole focus of his thoughts and words. It might have been flattering if this man didn’t technically have rights to her now. And if he didn’t make his living by being a really good killer. Oh, and if he didn’t scare her so badly.
Bravely lifting her chin she said, “Then talk.”
His eyebrows raised just a hair as if he wasn’t used to being ordered to do anything. He pulled his arms behind him. The action opened his chest to her and made her realize just how built he was. His shoulders were wide and filled out his shirt well, while his chest tapered to a more slender waist.
“We are in a situation that cannot be changed. Were you notified of the rights of
ownership given to me?”
Chloe ground her teeth and seethed inside. The word “ownership” while referring to her made her want to hit him. Yet all she could do was stare at his eyes. This man and his eyes were unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. Icy blue like a sky, glittering and bright.
“I’m quite aware,” she said, peering at the wide double door. It looked heavy. Would she even be able to pull it open?
Nerves had her feeling twitchy, like bugs were crawling up her arms and legs. She rubbed at them and took uneven breaths.
He said, “Since your rights have been given to me, stipulations must be made.” He took a step forward and she flinched, unable to help herself. He either didn’t notice her reaction or didn’t care because he ignored her and went to the corner of the room where the biggest desk she’d ever seen sat. It was bigger than the bathroom of her first apartment and much cleaner.
“You are not to leave the compound under any circumstance without strict permission from me. You are not to be outside these walls at night. There will be no trips, no friends visiting, and absolutely no bothering me, my quarters, my things, my guards, or my work in any way.”
Chloe stifled the sharp retort that was on her tongue and made a dash for the double door.
Her hand touched the brass handle, pulled down on it, then started to yank it open when a big hand slammed against the door an inch above her hand. She gave a startled scream and spun around, nearly losing the towel. He was standing not even a foot away.
Although he might as well have been on the far side of the room for she couldn’t even feel a hint of heat from his body. Well of course, she thought coldly, the man was a cold-hearted killer. Sure he fought on the right side of things, if there was such a thing, but his eyes were those of a man who’d seen terrible things for far too long. No one could ever remain unjaded after that.
She hadn’t realized she was staring into his eyes—eyes the color of the lightest of skies—
until he blinked and shattered the look.
“You know what I say is true, Ms. Bellum. Do not fight this or you will only make
trouble for yourself. If you are aware of what your father has done upon his death, though I am still unsure why he made such a decision, then you know you are under my exclusive care. I am your Protector now.” Being so near him was like standing next to your executioner. An executioner who could take her, use her, share her in the worst of ways and nothing the law could do could help her. Because she was his.
“I am not yours. I will never be yours.” She gulped at his unblinking stare.
“Commander,” she added somewhat nicely. If she couldn’t take the bull by the horn then maybe she could coax it to lie down while she found a way out of here...and maybe a shirt.
His brow furrowed and she swore that he seemed closer to her though she hadn’t seen him take a step. Was this a vampire trick or her imagination?
“This situation is one that neither of us seems to want.” For some reason the fact that he didn’t want her miffed her. Just a little.
“Then let me go.” He didn’t shake his head but she sensed the refusal in him.
“Impossible. I am sealed by a debt of honor to your father. I will uphold it, no matter how complicated this matter is. The rules I mentioned before still stand and will never change.”
He had a mouth that if he didn’t have it pulled into that tight line might be kissable, even lickable. Dang, Chloe. What’s wrong with you? Checking out the captor? She was crazy.
“ Honestly who upholds any of that old school stuff anyways? No one. My papa didn’t even pay into the whole patriarchal thing anyways. Seriously, we were raised independent and taught not to rely on a man. That fact that he’s...he’s given me to you is ridiculous and completely wrong for him. Just let me go and we’ll call it even. Your debt, paid.”