When I saw the winding staircase leading downstairs, I frowned. The was not the way I'd come up last night.

  Nevertheless, I made my way down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I darted for a door tucked in the corner. It was a pantry filled with canned goods and other supplies. But perfect for hiding.

  I held my breath as I heard him thumping down the stairs. He took them two or three at a time, his heavy footsteps echoing through the space. As he ran past, I heard him swear under his breath but thankfully he didn't stop to check if anyone was hiding in here.

  Without wasting another second, I pushed open the door again and started running in what seemed like an opposite direction from where he'd gone.

  My feet flew across the floor as fast as they could go until finally, after what felt like I’d run up and down too many hallways that looked far too similar to each other for comfort.

  When I made a hard right, suddenly I hung suspended in the air with an arm like steel around my waist.

  Drake.

  I'd run straight to him.

  18

  Daphne

  I flailed my arms, trying to grab ahold of something anything to stop my fall, but he caught me. He'd been waiting for me.

  "Let me go."

  He smirked. "That's not going to happen, Daphne. Why won't you just stay put?"

  "You might as well let me go. I will just keep running."

  He chuckled as he carried me back up the stairs. "And I'll keep hunting you down. You are a feisty hellcat. I'll say that."

  All I knew was he was carrying be back to doom. I flailed again trying to reach for any doorknob. Another way out. Another chance for escape.

  When one knob turned, I held on for dear life, and that forced him to a grunting stop.

  "Of course you want to go in there." To my surprise, he stopped and opened the door. Then placed me on my feet.

  The room was pure masculine charm. While the rest of the house harkened to a different time, with a cozy updated flair, this room was all masculine with floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the woods beyond and a massive bed in the center with dark wood accents highlighting the modern design.

  I swallowed hard. "Whose room is this?"

  There was a beat of silence, only serving to add more crackling tension between us. "Mine."

  My gut twisted. How was my luck this horrifically bad? How?

  My heart racing, panic seizing me, I still tried to fight. I almost landed a blow too, but he blocked me with ease.

  "You have to stop," he growled.

  I shook my head. "No. You have to let me go. I have people who need me and hell, I don't want to die."

  Our little fight was Kitten vs. Panther. Two guesses who won.

  I wasn't sure what was more humiliating, the fact that I hadn't gotten very far, the fact that I had tried to pick an electronic lock, or the fact that he had scooped me up as if my attack had been so minor that it had barely registered as an actual attack.

  He chuckled and wrapped his arm lightly around my waist, pulling me off my feet. I thrashed until he finally wrapped his other arm around my middle as well, this time catching both my hands, giving a whole new meaning to ‘catching these hands.’

  "All right, that's it." His breath was ragged against my ear, and to my chagrin, heat pooled in my core, and I had to squeeze my thighs together to stop the pulsation.

  He blocked my blows easily. "Easy, hellcat," he muttered while picking me up as if I weighed nothing and throwing me onto the bed.

  I gasped, my heart racing then tried to scramble off, but he was already beside me, his eyes blazing with something that made my insides quiver. "You're not going anywhere."

  I had no idea where I got the courage, but I reached my hand back and slapped him with all the force I could muster. He barely moved, but the muscle in his jaw ticked. I tried to hit him with my other palm, but he blocked me easily, then drew my hand above my head to manacle both my hands with one of his large ones.

  The exact same position we'd been in last night. When I'd felt the thick length of his erection pressing into me.

  Kind of like now.

  His brow furrowed as he scowled down at me. "Why are you like this?"

  I muttered softly through my quivering lips, "I hate you."

  "No you don't."

  Even as I said it, my body betrayed me. My hips lifted ever so slightly, seeking him out.

  He pinned me down, and I could feel the heat of his body on mine. His gaze softened as he gazed into my eyes, and suddenly the connection between us, pulsed to life as if it were tangible. My skin tingled at his touch, and my breath came in short gasps as I stared into his eyes.

  His gaze bore into mine and we stayed locked like that staring at each other...and then his gaze dipped to my lips.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out, the words caught and constricted between what I wanted to say, what I shouldn’t say, and the secret urges I kept hidden.

  He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling my skin making my pulse kick up, and my body started to tremble.

  His breath was warm against my lips. He was so close.

  His gaze darted to mine, and I froze. Suddenly his mask slipped, and he was the Drake I'd met in the bar. Sexy, fun and full of mischief.

  He seemed to be at some kind of war with himself, but then he groaned, and he fused his lips with mine.

  The explosion of riotous feelings in my body was almost too much to be contained.

  I should have been fighting. I should have been biting him. I should have been screaming. But instead, I kissed him back.

  We were a tangle of teeth and tongues and lips locked in a desperate embrace.

  His kiss was rough, punishing. He kissed me as if he would never get the chance again, and it drove me wild with the need for more.

  His free hand found my breast and roughly squeezed it through my shirt.

  I gasped as heat pooled between my thighs and I made a low keening sound. I was desperate for more of him. More of this. I wanted to feel him against me. I wanted to feel his skin.

  I tried to wriggle closer, but he was so strong. So big.

  He dragged his lips from mine to kiss along my jaw, then my neck leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His nips and kisses sent shockwaves through me, making me writhe beneath him.

  His hips rocked into me, sliding his jeans clad cock along my cleft and making me pulse. When he reached the edge of my shirt, he tugged it up, exposing my bare skin to his gaze.

  His hand came up and cupped my breast, squeezing it roughly as he leaned down to take one of my pebbled tips into his mouth.

  I arched my back in a desperate deranged effort to get closer. With a muttered growl, he did the one thing, I didn't anticipate.

  He let go of my wrists. And like the Stockholm case that I was, instead of fighting, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, pushing myself up against him.

  Our hands clawed at each other as we fought clothes and tried to fuse our bodies together. He kissed me again, this time shoving his hands into my hair, tugging gently to tilt my head back further as he continued to ravage me with his mouth.

  I had never felt anything like this - like I was on fire from the inside out - and with each brush of his lips and each stroke of his tongue, I wanted more and more.

  His hand trailed up to my breast, and he tweaked my nipple, sending another shot of need to my core.

  He squeezed my breast hard, and I moaned, my body trembling. When he released my lips and trailed his hot wet tongue down my neck to my nipple, a low groan rumbled in his chest.

  He sucked the tight bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and then biting down lightly, making me moan loudly, my body going limp.

  With a chuckle, he released my nipple with a pop and then his hands slid down to my leggings. He paused momentarily at the elastic, his head snapping up and his gaze meeting mine.

  His lips were swollen, his pupils dilated and his eyes hooded, but he was pausing as if asking for something.

  If I wanted to stop.

  He was giving me a choice. I opened my mouth, wanting to talk, to say something, but nothing intelligible came out. Instead, all I could do was nod intently.

  I thought he would strip my leggings off. Instead, he slid his hand inside, his digits sneaking past my knickers like a thief in the night.

  He kneed my legs apart and stroked over my sensitive folds. I groaned, arching up into his touch. I was so wet, so ready for him.

  He went back to sucking on my nipples and my hands threaded into his thick dark locks, fisting them tight as he continued to stroke me. I couldn't believe how good he felt.

  I felt like a live wire, and I needed him to touch me, to feel him inside me, to hear the sounds I would make.

  "Please," I whispered, my hips lifting up to meet his hand. He stroked me again, circling my clit, but the friction wasn't enough. But he kept teasing me until I whimpered.

  "Please," I begged.

  "Please what?" he asked, his tone rough.

  I groaned and arched up into his hand, and he gave me one more stroke before he stopped.

  I whimpered, my body imploring his hand to continue.

  "Please what, Daphne?" he asked, his voice low and raw.

  My humiliation made me want to hide, to cower, but I spoke the words. "Please let me come."

  "My pleasure." The thrumming strokes became more insistent as he tugged on one of my nipples with his teeth.

  With a few for rough strokes, that coiled spring inside me finally snapped, making me come apart under his steady fingers.

  His face was so close, his eyes blazing with lust, heat and possessiveness as he watched me.

  I came so hard my vision went white with stars behind my eyes.

  He didn't let up, his fingers continuing to thrum over my clit. The beginnings of another climax rose up within me, and I arched up into his hand. This time, he leaned in capturing my lips with his, swallowing the cry I couldn't hold back.

  With a grunt, he adjusted his wrist so that he slid two thick, blunt fingers inside my pussy and his thumb took up the job of clit whisperer.

  “Fucking hell, you’ve drenched my hand, kitten. Be a bad girl and leave me a wet spot I’ll need to sleep in tonight. Come for me again.”

  His words, his thumb, the carnal forbidden pleasure. That second release was more powerful as I convulsed, trying to escape the sensations. But he planted his other hand on my lower abdomen, drawing out the wave of pleasure.

  I was panting, my body limp. Still he stroked, more lazily now, as if he planned to keep me hovering here in a state of bliss. All the while his erection kicked insistently against my leg.

  When I dropped my head back and my spent body splayed before him, Drake kissed up my body, landing back at my lips as his cock nudged at my cleft. My hips, treacherous traitors that they were rose to meet the occasion.

  I'd spent months barely interested in sex, but one night with my kidnapper, and I couldn't get enough?

  While I frantically tried to yank off his shirt, I heard something from the hallway.

  "Drake? Are you up there?"

  Reginald.

  "Fucking hell," Drake muttered. His hips seemed to give an involuntary roll towards me before pushing he pushed off the bed and away from me.

  While we stared at each other like a couple of caught teenagers, he grabbed my discarded T-shirt for me and tugged it back over my head.

  Not before his gaze drifted back to my breasts though. When I was dressed, he nodded. "Am I carrying you back or are you walking?"

  I stared at him. After what we'd just done, what the hell was the protocol? I’d come hard. Twice I might add. I had no leg to stand on by trying to pretend that hadn’t been me. "I'll walk."

  Back in my room, Drake stalked toward me. I blinked rapidly falling back on the bed, not sure of what was happening.

  His brows furrowed, settling into deep grooves as he watched me. 'If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it when you were creaming all over my fingers." Then, with the pair of shiny handcuffs he pulled from his back pocket, he murmured, "Safety first, kitten."

  The shame was a stinging slap to my ego along with a new sting of terror and I tried to crawl away, but he held me tight as he clinked the metal bracelets on my wrists. "I'm going out," he announced as he pushed himself to his feet. "You'll be well looked after. If you need anything, just ask Reginald."

  I didn't know what the hell had happened in his room, before. It was hot and confusing and so sexy in the moment. But now I just felt used. Used and manipulated.

  Then he was gone, leaving me handcuffed to the headboard. I jerked and tugged at the cuffs, but it was useless.

  Exhausted, I collapsed back onto the bed. My frustration spilled over and hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

  I wasn't sure how long I cried, how long I let myself cry, but even as sleep tugged at me, I promised myself one thing. I would not go down without a fight. Not a chance in hell.

  19

  Daphne

  I hadn’t seen Drake for almost twenty-four hours.

  What if something happened to him? I couldn’t stay here forever. Willow was getting married soon. She needed me.

  What's it going to be, Winslow, cry or take charge of your life? Whatever the fuck is left of it.

  For twelve years I'd been a prisoner locked up in my own body. Never again. I clasped my hands together, said a little prayer, and then dislocated my thumb, saying a little prayer of thanks for being born double jointed. It felt more like I needed to crack my knuckles than actual pain.

  I held myself still for just a little bit longer as I listened for Reginald. Every creak and groan of the house had me on high alert.

  But I heard nothing.

  In the process of wiggling out of the cuffs, I scraped the skin on my hands, and I did not have the time to wrap them with gauze. I needed to move. Now.

  Carefully, I rolled off the bed onto a crouch, waiting and listening for any footsteps coming close. Nope.

  One breath. Two breaths. In and out. In and out.

  When nobody came, I ran to the window, pushing it up with all my strength. The window needed oiling, and God help me, I did not want to break it because that would alert Reginald.

  We were still on the third floor, so I had a falling issue. But I had to risk it. After what had just almost happened with Drake, I couldn’t stay. That man would destroy my soul.

  And you would like it.

  I had no phone and no sense of where I was, but at the very least, I knew which way was north, south, east, or west. I just had no idea which direction London was from here, for fuck's sake.

  Pick a direction and go.

  I opted for east. I didn't love the idea of having to traipse through the woods with no shoes on, but with doubled socks it would be my best option. It would at least provide some cover, and from what I could see, there was a creek flowing that way, so I’d have access to water. And God help me, I hadn't heard any dogs, but if they had some, I knew it would be harder to track me near the water. And when people went camping, they camped near water, so I might run into someone who would let me borrow a phone.

  Get your arse moving, girl.

  Once the window was open, I climbed out onto the sill, dubiously looking down. My stomach pitched again at the idea of the fall. Jesus, suddenly it looked far from up here, and I could not afford to twist an ankle.

  First things first though. I had to turn my body around to close the window, which was a feat all on its own. Once I finally had the window closed so anyone walking up the side of the house wouldn't see, I squeezed my eyes shut and let go. My knees screamed out in pain when I landed with a thud and a roll onto the secondary roof.

  The pain in my knees had me wincing, but holy hell, I was alive. The exhilaration dampened the pain with a flood of adrenalin. I shimmied myself to the ledge, having to crawl a few feet over to the left, so that I would be right above the bushes.

  I was wearing thick leggings and thick socks. So far, it hadn't rained today, so I wouldn't have to suffer with wet socks, but fuck. It wasn’t very cold, but I needed to make some headway before nightfall. Otherwise, I was screwed.

  Don’t get wet. Don't break an ankle. Stay as dry as possible. Find water. Find people. All before nightfall.

  Okay, I could do this. I was athletic. I did barre class. I also went on long walks all the time. I liked to hike.

  Walking around Primrose Hill is hardly hiking.

  Okay, so occasionally I had hiked. It didn't matter because I didn't have any other options. I glanced down at the shrubs dubiously, and they seemed to glance back saying, Come on in, the water is fine, though they looked thorny. I placed a hand over my mouth, closed my eyes, and jumped.

  The fall, though short, had this free-fall effect for a millisecond, making me think that I was flying.

  But that brush was quick to meet me. Oh, God. Something stuck at the back of my heel, and I winced, pulling out a tiny little branch before rolling onto the ground.

  Again, I waited for some kind of alarm or something, but I heard no noise. My heel was going to be annoying, but not too bad. All I had to do was run across that garden, and I could stay close to the hedges. Then there was the field, and I could cross the road and enter the woods. Not bad. I could do this.

  I clasped my hands and prayed. Dear God, if you are there, yes, I would still like bigger boobs and a smaller arse, and I want to survive this. Please, God, please.

  My prayers thrown up, I ran like hell.

  My heart hammered all the way. I kept expecting Reginald with a shotgun behind me. I could almost hear the crack of the bullet.

  But nothing like that happened. There were no dogs. No thundering footsteps behind me. Nothing.

  But that didn't slow me down.

  The grass was wetter than I expected, so my feet wouldn't stay dry for long, and I would have to eventually stop and swap my socks out. But I could do that when I got to the woods.