Chosen: The Complete Edition (Allure), page 15
We rose swiftly. However old the elevator was it had been kept in excellent repair. When we didn’t stop, I wondered how many stories the house had. I’d only caught a glimpse of the interior but what I’d seen wouldn’t have been out of place in a mansion or…
An image unfolded in my mind--a castle with towers rising high above strong walls. I almost laughed at the thought and yet I couldn’t dismiss it entirely.
Finally, the elevator glided to a halt and the doors slid open. Adam carried me out directly into a large circular room with high windows that provided a panoramic view of the night sky. The impression of being in a tower grew stronger.
“Where are we?” My voice was hoarse and faint.
“Your new quarters.” He didn’t stop but kept moving through a wide arch and into another, smaller room.
He laid me down gently on a long, padded bench. A moment later, I heard the rush of water pouring out of taps.
Weakly, I lifted my head. A feeling of dazed unreality swept over me. We were in a palatial bathroom with a pale white-and-pink marble floor and walls, and a domed ceiling filled with a fresco of …cherubs? I blinked but they were still there, grinning down at me. Warm, golden light flowed from fixtures set into the walls. I glimpsed double sinks with what looked like solid gold taps. Grandmother had those but she was the only Delaney who did. No one else dared to match her extravagance.
Any thought of her, or of my family in general, normally made me tense but as it was, I barely reacted. I was far too occupied trying to take in the sudden change in my circumstances.
The aroma of jasmine distracted me. Adam stood beside a large claw-footed tub, pouring scented oil into the steaming water. The sight was so incongruous that I couldn’t help but laugh. Or try to at least. The sound came out as more of a strangled giggle.
Even so, he heard it. Setting the crystal bottle of oil back on a nearby shelf, he returned to where I laid and helped me up. My legs were so shaky that I had to cling to him. The blanket fell away. Under it I was naked.
I stared down at my body. Even in the golden light, I looked far too pale. Against the whiteness of my skin, dark bruises were forming. Some, the worst, must have been from the battering I’d taken in the water. But I knew that others were from what had happened on the beach, fingertip-sized marks on my breasts and hips where Adam had handled me roughly. Between my thighs, I glimpsed pale pink stains and flushed when I realized that they were a mixture of my blood and his seed.
Instinctively, I glanced up at him. His face was bleak, his eyes dark and fathomless. Gruffly, he said, “Let’s get you clean.”
He carried me to the tub and lowered me carefully into the water. I gasped at the sudden heat but quickly my muscles began to relax. Even so, the tub was so large and I was so weak that I had to wonder how I’d avoid going under.
I needn’t have worried. Standing beside the tub, Adam quickly stripped off his clothes. His shirt went first, tossed on the floor and kicked aside. His pants followed along with his briefs.
Naked, he stood before me--tall, broad-shouldered, his ripped torso giving way to narrow hips and powerful thighs between which…
My chest tightened painfully. After what had happened on the beach, how could he be aroused again so soon?
And what did he intend to do about it?
Despite the soothing water, I felt the soreness deep inside me. Hastily, I looked away. If I’d had more strength, I would have been tempted to try to run--again. But I could hardly keep myself upright in the water.
A little of it sloshed over the rim of the tub as Adam got in behind me. He lowered himself until I was cradled against his chest, my legs caught between his. I could feel his erection against my buttocks. The temperature of the water didn’t appear to be diminishing it at all.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured against my cheek.
I obeyed simply because I was too dazed and exhausted to do anything else. The sensual luxury of the bath might not affect him but it was definitely getting to me. If he hadn’t been holding me, I really would have sunk beneath the water.
The thought of doing so terrified me but even that fear felt far away. I was floating in the water, in his arms, untethered from any other reality. After so much pain, fear and terrible, dark ecstasy, the sensation was overwhelming.
I was only dimly aware when he began to wash my hair, using a shower attachment beside the tub. When every particle of sand was rinsed from the strands, he began massaging a jasmine-scented shampoo into my scalp. My neck arched and I groaned. At once, he stopped. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, it feels…good.” Better than that, it felt so normal, the kind of thing a man would do for a woman he truly cared about. And she would let him, take pleasure in it, in him.
But nothing was normal between Adam and me. I would have been the world’s worst fool to let myself think that for even a moment.
All the same, I didn’t want him to stop. Not then and not when, having finished with my hair, he poured body wash into his hands and began to gently but thoroughly clean my body. His big, callused palms passed over my arms and underarms before cupping my breasts with aching tenderness, his thumbs rubbing lightly over my distended nipples.
I groaned again and leaned further back into his embrace.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. His touch slipped over my belly and between my legs. With exacting care, he soaped away the traces of his possession.
“So strong…yet so vulnerable. That’s the ultimate mystery of women, Grace. Or of some women, at least. Like you.”
I gasped when he lightly stroked my still swollen clit.
“I’m not strong.” The words were wrung from me. I hated admitting any such thing but I was powerless to deny the truth.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “I chose you because I saw the strength in you. Although, I admit you’ve surprised me in many ways.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant but the soothing stroke of his hands moving over me so intimately robbed me of breath. My eyes shut as a deep sigh escaped me.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Adam murmured. “Not yet.”
I nodded, struggling to comply. He finished washing me and did the same for himself before lifting me from the tub.
Wrapped in an oversized terrycloth bath sheet, I sat docilely as he brushed and dried my hair. From time to time, I dared a glance in the mirror. He stood behind me, a powerfully masculine presence wearing only a towel tied low around his lean hips.
I stared at his sculpted chest, following with my eyes the line of dark hair that vanished beneath the edge of the fabric. What would it be like to touch him freely, lick my way down the length of his torso and beyond--
A jolt of shock went through me. How could I possibly desire him? He hurt me. In so many ways. The fact that he had also forced me to experience pleasure beyond any I had ever imagined didn’t change that. I wanted nothing to do with him and yet--
“No!”
I didn’t even realize that I’d spoken out loud until I saw Adam’s reaction. He froze in the instant before his hand settled on the back of my neck. The gesture could have been taken as another effort to soothe me but I knew all too well the inherent need to exert control that it really represented.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I stared at him in the mirror, sure that I must have misheard. He couldn’t really have asked me that, could he? The look on his face--concerned, expectant--confirmed that he had.
My lips twisted in the mockery of a smile. “Maybe being drugged, kidnapped, locked naked in a cell, hunted down, almost drowned, and finally raped? There may be people who would consider that a fun weekend but I’m not one of them.”
He flushed. His hand on my neck tightened. Too late, I realized how foolish it was to taunt him when I was so vulnerable.
And so exhausted. The verbal challenge I had hurled at him had taken the last of my strength. I had nothing left to fight him with. My shoulders slumped. All I wanted to do was crawl into a bed and go to sleep.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to crawl. After several long moments during which I waited to discover how he would react, Adam lifted me once again in his arms and carried me into the main room.
At its center stood an immense four poster bed made of carved wood, teak I thought, and hung with diaphanous red curtains that billowed softly in the breeze from the high windows. Intricate Oriental carpets were scattered over the dark slate floor.
Other pieces of furniture--a dressing table, a desk, and more, were arranged to take advantage of what had to be spectacular views. Each looked like a rare antique. Between the high windows, the walls were stone but of a kind I had never seen before; they sparkled in the moonlight. The overall effect was at once beautiful and otherworldly.
“Is this your room?”
“No, it’s yours.”
I looked around again, realizing that I had never been anywhere so luxurious, not in my family’s homes or any of the five-star hotels we typically stayed at when travelling. This was a chamber fit for a queen. Yet I had only one response to it.
“My new prison?”
He shrugged. “For now.” Setting me down on the side of the bed, he removed the towel before I could stop him.
I reacted instinctively, crossing my arms over my chest. But I needn’t have bothered. Seemingly oblivious to my nakedness, he went on. “Obviously, there are matters we will have to work out. Unfortunately, I have guests for the next few days who require my attention. After that...we’ll see.”
The uncertainty that implied was more than I could take. It snapped the last thin hold I’d kept on my self-control.
“Let me go, Adam! If you don’t, I promise you that I’ll keep trying to escape. I can’t live like this. I won’t. Anything would be better.”
I didn’t go further than that but the words hung between us all the same. “Even death.”
He stood stone still, staring down at me. After a moment, I realized that he wasn’t breathing. He really did look like the statue of a man, a mere facsimile of life.
Finally, his chest rose and fell. He reached out, I thought with the intention of touching me. I flinched, drawing away from him. I’d gone too far. He would punish me for what I’d said. As weak as I was, I didn’t know how I would endure it.
But all he did was pull back the covers from the bed. “Get in.” His voice was devoid of all expression. When I still hesitated, fearful of what he intended, he said, “You need to sleep.”
Relief flooded me. I didn’t know whether or not to believe him but just then I couldn’t care. All I could do was obey.
The moment I laid down, he drew the covers over me. Before clicking off the bedside lamp, he hesitated. “I left the light on in the bathroom. Is that enough?”
This from the man who had condemned me to hours of impenetrable darkness because I wouldn’t say what he wanted?
Mutely, I nodded. Just then, all I wanted was for him to leave me alone. Yet when he did, walking swiftly from the room and re-entering the elevator, I felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of loss.
My conflicting emotions were too much to bear. Huddled on my side with my legs drawn up, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. In the distance, through the high windows, I could hear the murmur of the surf. Even aware as I now was of the terrible danger lurking in the sea, the long, rolling sound had a soothing effect. As I listened to it, even the soreness in my body seemed to ease. With a last thought for all that had happened, I slipped into mercifully dreamless sleep.
I woke to brilliant sunshine and the raucous call of sea birds. Fresh, warm air filled the exquisitely beautiful room. Turning over in the bed, I savored a sense of contentment that vanished the moment I remembered where I was. And how I had come to be there.
Abruptly, I sat up, clutching the covers to my breasts, and looked around. A sigh of relief escaped me when I realized that I was alone. Yet I also felt a lingering confusion. Far in the back of the mind, I had a vague memory of Adam returning to the tower room at some point during the night…standing beside the bed…looking down at me…
He’d been dressed in a starkly elegant business suit that only heightened his aura of power and dominance. And he’d held something in his hand that gleamed in the moonlight.
Surely, I’d imagined that? Convinced that what I thought I remembered was no more than the product of an exhausted mind, I started to get out of the bed.
Only to stop abruptly when I felt an unaccustomed weight. Staring down at myself, I barely stifled a scream.
A wide steel manacle was locked around my left ankle. From it extended a long chain, its length lying coiled on the floor beside the bed. At a guess, it appeared long enough to let me reach the bathroom but no farther.
Too late, I remembered what Adam had said on the beach when I begged him to let me go.
“Never.”
A bolt of terror and something else I didn’t want to recognize went through me. For the first time, I had to consider the possibility that he meant it.
His intentions for me might have changed, and my surroundings with them. But nothing else had. I was, more than ever, Adam Falzon’s captive.
Part Three
Chapter One
Adam
What the hell had I done?
In the time it took for me to descend from the tower and reach my own quarters, a dozen answers clamored in my mind, all of them damnable.
Worst among them so far as I was concerned, I had abandoned the guiding principle of my life--duty. Since boyhood, I had clung to it as to a rope thrown to a child drowning in a torrent of grief and fear. Duty had tethered me to a reality I could cope with, giving my life meaning, shape, and direction. Until those moments on the beach when my raging, all-consuming passion for Grace lit a fuse burning down to the single, explosive word that changed everything:
“Never.”
I never wanted to let her go--no matter who she was or why I had taken her. I wanted her the way I wanted light and air, food and water. She was essential to me to a degree that I found nothing short of terrifying.
Thrusting deep into her virgin body, I had become a stranger to myself, not the Adam Falzon that I knew but a man consumed by needs that I had never acknowledged before. One who was capable of behaving in ways that I would never have thought possible.
That word she had hurled at me in turn--rape--and the brutal reality it represented loomed monstrously in my mind. I recoiled from it instinctively but it stayed right where it was, front and center, taunting me.
Guilt wasn’t an emotion that I was used to. Shame was another with which I had only the most passing acquaintance. Confronted by both, I had no idea how to deal with either. Indeed, I was more than mildly surprised that I was capable of experiencing such intense, unwelcome feelings.
A better man would have sworn never to touch her again. I shrugged off any such thought. If my parents had lived, if I hadn’t become a killer bent on avenging them, perhaps the darkness in me wouldn’t have become so dominant. But that didn’t matter. I had to deal with what was, not what might have been.
Beyond guilt and shame, Grace had pricked my pride. Every other woman I had ever had apart from her had come to me eagerly. I was under no illusion about what drew them. They were attracted by my wealth, power, looks, even the darkness they sensed in me.
None had ever gotten close enough to know me simply as a man nor would I have wanted them to. My privacy was sacrosanct. But never, ever had I forced a woman. Rough sex that was mutually enjoyable was a different matter.
Entirely different.
As much as I would have liked to do so, I couldn’t delude myself that there was anything less than an absolutely clear distinction between a willing partner and what had happened on the beach.
But in the darkness, there was no place for repentance, much less atonement. No matter what I had done or how I felt about it, I had no intention of letting Grace go. On the contrary, I was more determined than ever to bend her to my will.
I had meant to stay with her in the tower but her distress overruled even my basest instincts. As much as I didn’t want to believe that she could be driven to harm herself, I couldn’t ignore the fact that she had implied that possibility. That alone was enough to force my hand.
I thought it through as I shaved and dressed, then called Rolf before leaving my quarters. He was waiting as I stepped out the door.
“Sir,” he said, inclining his head. The tall, somber man--a former colonel in the Swiss military--had been my father’s closest aide. I was eight years old when my parents were murdered, a child drowning in a sea of grief. Rolf had stepped in, becoming my mentor and in time my friend. I trusted him above any other man.
Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t restrain a smile. “You realize that you only call me that when I’ve done something you don’t like?”
He looked surprised, even uncomfortable but he didn’t attempt to deny it. “If you say so…sir. The young lady--”
I hesitated. Rolf had never approved of my taking Grace. He’d tried his best to dissuade me. Now that I no longer had the excuse of duty, I could see his point. But that didn’t change anything.
“Miss Delaney is safe, for the moment. I need to speak with Gunther.”
“Now?”
“Definitely now, without delay.”
As I spoke, I began walking down the long, carpeted hall to a discrete set of curving stone stairs set into an outer corner of the original house. The manor had been added onto over the centuries, growing from a rude keep thrown up in a matter of days by ruthless invaders into a palatial residence. But it was also home, the place where I felt most in touch with who I was and what was expected of me.
Rolf followed at my side. I was content to have him there and, I suspected that just then he wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else. My behavior was bound to concern him. How could it not when it shocked even me?
