Page 12 of Enemy turned Mate

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It was a cottage from the inside, complete with amenities that made it functional. The net loosened and had her flying, but the man was faster as he snatched her back down and pinned her limbs down on the floor.

“My name is Nico. I don’t know your name and I don’t want to keep calling you sweetheart, so I’m just going to call you…hey, you. From now on, you are under my protection—and my watch, just in case you are an accomplice.”

There was a click before he got off her. Anne zoned in on her ankle and wrist, handcuffed to a wooden pole. It had grown cold, but she fought the shivering and tugged at her handcuffs.

“Don’t. You will just hurt yourself. That’s even more secure than the net.” He perused her evenly. Something softened in his eyes, a glimmer before he was back to business. “I will be back. Just…get some rest.”

He slipped back out the door, but not before leaving items surrounding her. A buzzing feeling started in the air, leaving her scooting against the wall before it registered that the walls were the ones buzzing with energy. Anne jerked away, but her fingers couldn’t resist touching. As soon as her palm made contact, the energy washed over her like a balm until all she wanted to do was rest.

Stay focused.

She backed off and eyed the array before her. When she spotted the cupcakes she had stolen, resistance melted and she tore them open, then gulped them down until her stomach started to protest. Anne washed it off with the mint candies, set the wrappers aside, and noted the pillow and rolled futon next. Would it hurt to rest?

It won’t.Just her pride. But pride could take the backseat when no one was a witness, so she lay down and bit back a groan when the soft, fluffy pillow hit her head. As usual, she curled in on herself on the futon, eyes closed but mind alert for the slightest sign of danger. Nothing came for hours. Her mind gave in, and she drifted in and out until awareness flitted in that she wasn’t alone.

“Hey, you?”

She waited him out until his footsteps shuffled about.

“I know you are awake.”

Her eyes snapped open and locked with his. The defiance halted when she recognized the weariness in his eyes and the banked frustration. There was also a hint of helplessness, pushed away when he sighed in relief upon seeing her alert. He continued moving around. She gingerly sat up, watching him.

“I tracked for hours and found nothing. Just the dead deer. I buried it and removed all evidence, especially the blood.” A pause. “Are you involved in this?”

Something was simmering on the stove. Whatever it was, it smelled divine. Then his question sunk in. There was a moment’s hesitation before she shook her head. He tilted his, then shrugged.

“You might be lying to me. But my instincts are pretty spot on, and I don’t think you are, which leaves the same question about what you are doing in this area. Are you lost?”

Did this mean she was going to be acquitted and freed? Was he asking questions to determine her innocence? Tentatively, she shook her head again.

“Are you in trouble?”

Negative.Her head made the gesture.

“Were you in trouble before?”

She took longer with this one, not wanting him to pry. But the look on his face demanded honesty, and she found herself nodding. His stance changed as something gleamed in his gaze.

“Those camping women. Were you trying to protect them from whatever was causing this?”

Another nod, another shocked look from him.

“Did you see what it was?”

Disappointment followed when she shook her head, but he swallowed it down.

“I see. Well, there’s only one solution to this: you are staying with me in the meantime. It’s still not safe out there.”

Again, whatever hope she had was dashed when his answer wasn’t the one she was looking for. Anne turned away, hands fisting.

“I feel like you want to tell me something but can’t speak. Or you just don’t want to.”

Asshole. Jerk. Bastard.The words reverberated and made their way to her throat until frustration made her want to punch something. Preferably him. Or the wall.

“Here. To keep you warm.”

She eyed the bowl distrustfully, but the smell…it was calling to her. So was the tall glass of water beside it. But Anne kept an eye on him, not touching anything until he lay down on the other side of the cottage and turned his back to her.


Tags: J.S. Striker Paranormal