Wild Men of Alaska 04 - Wild Men of Alaska - Four Book Bundle

to read her thoughts and dared her to ask for an explanation. She didn’t want one. Nor, apparently, needed one when her insides heated as his gaze brushed over her breasts, her waist, her hips.
    She held her hands out as far as they would reach in their T-Rex knots. “Untie me.”
    “You must say the vords.”
    Oh hell, no. She was not saying please.
    “Promise me that you vill not try to kill me again until ve have talked. Really talked. Vhere you listen to my side of the story.”
    “Then I can try to kill you?”
    “If you feel the need, you can try.”
    So the man wanted to talk, attempt to sway her into believing what she knew was wrong. Not with the blood that had painted her hands, the deaths that weighed heavy on her soul.
    “Fine. I’ll hear you out.”
    “And?”
    “I promise not to kill you until after I hear you out. Better?”
    “ Nyet. But good enough for now.” He stood, reached into his pocket, flicked open a switchblade, and came toward her.

C HAPTER S IX

    Something else fired in Kate’s blood as Sergei cut through her bonds. She held still, barely breathing with him so near, hoping he didn’t notice her pulse racing.
    “Have you had that blade on you this whole time?” she asked as he freed her hands and went to work on the ropes anchoring her to the chair.
    “This blade vas my father’s, and I’m never vithout it.” He let the reality that he’d been armed the entire time during her multiple attacks sink in.
    The last of her bindings fell away, and he slowly gathered up the rope, his eyes never leaving hers. She stood, massaging her wrists. The relief of being free washed over her. She wanted to stretch, bend at the waist and touch her toes, but, much like prey, she kept her eyes on Sergei as he flicked the switchblade closed and stashed it away in the front pocket of his jeans.
    “Do you need to use the facilities?” he asked, depositing the rope back onto the counter.
    Badly. She nodded.
    “This vay.” He gestured with his arm into the great room of the lodge, which she took time to catalog.
    There was a door in the kitchen that led outside and the French doors off the great room exited onto the large deck. He took her up the stairs that overlooked the stunning two-story room and the hand-laid rock fireplace. Tongue-and-grove pine covered the ceilings where log beams jointed together. Stunning place. One she would love to spend time in.
    Sergei brought her into a large bedroom, where he was obviously staying. She stopped at the doorway.
    “The lodge isn’t in use this time of year. I hadn’t planned on any ‘guests’. So the only rooms open are mine.”
    “You live among the others?”
    “No. Vhen everyone is here, I stay in bunkhouse. I like my privacy, and I don’t require much in vay of needs.” His words slid over her like a caress as though if he could have her, his needs would be met.
    She didn’t want to enter the bear’s den. The mammoth king size canopy bed was made of logs. Imposing, much like the man. A quilt in hunter greens and rich browns covered the bed. Books on multiple subjects were stacked on both night tables and piled onto the floor. One window showcased the impassable mountains with nestling glaciers in the distance, while the other looked out over the black cove. The room must be on a corner of the lodge to be able to see so much of the outdoors. She understood why he had picked it.
    Had he seen her coming? She’d come from the direction the mountain-side window faced. She could almost map her trail from here. If he had been gazing out of this window, he would have seen her inch down the mountainside. They shared a look, and she hated that he’d known. She was not this predictable. The man had to have a sixth sense.
    He cocked his head to the side as she continued to stand in the doorway. “I’m not going to jump you, Katja. Unless you make a move on me first, then all bets are off.” He gave her his back as though he didn’t fear her in the slightest.
    That burned.
    It was not a trust gesture. It was I-don’t-think-you-are-a-threat-to-me gesture. He flicked on the bathroom light. She ventured into the bedroom, her blood simmering. He gathered up items from the counter, and the drawers. A razor, scissors, dental floss, and spray cologne.
    “Feel free to shower if you’d like,” he said, carrying the few things he’d grabbed out of the room. “If you need more bandages there are some in the bottom drawer.”
    Like she was