Drake Sisters 07 - Hidden Currents

anyone—least of al herself. She was certain Stavros might have kil ed her—he was enraged by her resistance—if it hadn’t been for Sid. The bodyguard had once again stepped in and saved her, although she wasn’t certain why. She had seen the look on his face, and for a moment she’d thought he might actual y kil his boss when, hearing her screams, he had broken into the room, risking his own life.
    Stavros kil ed easily, yet he refused to even argue with Sid when Sid intervened. Stavros had walked out, shaking with anger, but stil , he’d left Sid to pick up the pieces, trusting the bodyguard with her when he wouldn’t even al ow his own brother to lay a finger on her. Sid had been gentle, washing her, checking her ribs, whispering to her in Russian, tel ing her to stop fighting, to just endure, to wait. For what? She didn’t even have a sense of time anymore.
    El e wondered for the mil ionth time if she had dreamed Jackson’s voice. If anything was real. Everything around her seemed hazy and faraway.

    What had roused her from her semistupor, an urgent feeling that wouldn’t let go of her? She didn’t want to actual y feel, or think; she wanted to slip back into that place where no one could touch her. But . . . She turned her face toward the long glass wal and looked out to the sea.
    The wind slammed against the building, rising to a shriek and then retreating, only to return with ful force, knocking, again and again. Her breath caught in her throat. The wind. Watch for the wind . She tried to sit up and found she couldn’t move. She pul ed experimental y at the cuffs on her wrists.
    He’d tied her to the bed. Stavros didn’t ever need a reason; he wanted her to know she existed at his whim—that whatever he chose to do, he would do, and she was powerless. He drove the point home to her often. He was tired of her fighting him, and in truth, she was tired of it, too.
    She looked toward the glass again, moistening her dry lips. Had Jackson come? Had her sisters sent the wind to tel her they were coming for her?
    She didn’t dare hope. A prickly sensation crept down her spine and she knew without turning her head that Stavros had entered the room. She let her head fal back on the pil ow and braced herself for his touch.
    â€œI thought the storm might be making you nervous,†he said. “The glass always makes it seem as if you’re out in it, when real y you’re safe.†His voice was very solicitous and she wondered, not for the first time, if he real y believed himself in love with her. And if he did, it was a sick kind of love—ownership she wanted no part of.
    â€œIt is a little nerve-wracking,†she admitted, surprising him. His eyes went wide at her answer. She rarely responded to anything he said or did, her only real way of keeping control.
    Stavros looked pleased. Immediately, as if to reward her, he crossed to her side and bent down to brush a kiss over her mouth. El e forced herself not to turn her head. She didn’t respond, but she let him have her lips again, a big victory for him.
    â€œWere you missing me?â€
    She swal owed the bile rising. “I was lonely.†She turned her head toward the glass. “And the wind . . .â€
    â€œDon’t worry, my sweet. This house is a fortress. Nothing wil destroy it.â€
    He’d better hope his psychic barrier never came down, because if it did, she would take down his house and everything in it.
    â€œI have to use the bathroom.†She hated that she flushed red when she said it. He loved the humiliation of her having to ask. Sometimes he made her “ask properlyâ€â€”asking “please†and thanking him afterward, even when he stayed in the room with her. She’d never detested anyone more in her life. At least she wasn’t so apathetic that she couldn’t feel her hatred of her captor.
    â€œOf course, Sheena.†His hands were gentle as he took off the cuffs on her wrists. “Good girl.†He smiled, rubbing at the bruises on her skin.
    â€œYou didn’t fight this time and break the skin.â€
    Only because she’d been unconscious, or asleep—she couldn’t tel anymore. El e glanced again out the window, trying not to hope, forcing herself not to reach out to see if Jackson or her sisters were close.
    â€œAre you afraid