Golden Binds Page 8

  She sat on the bed, her legs no longer able to hold her up. “You love me.”

  “Yes, I love you.” Then he pointed at her, his face growing cold. “Which is why you’re going to be secured in this room until you tell me where the fuck you were and who the hell I need to kill.”

  She jumped up. “What? No, Carlin, you can’t do that.”

  “Watch me. I’m going to have a bolt attached to the other side of that door. In the meantime, you’ll have a guard. Someone will bring you your food.”

  Then he turned and walked out. She rushed to open the door and nearly crashed into a behemoth of a man standing on the other side. He turned and looked down at her.

  “Fred, hi.”

  He just stared at her. Like his neck, Fred’s personality was pretty much on-existent. He was a tank of a man. Built wide, every inch of him muscle. She tried to step around him.

  “Excuse me,” she said politely.

  He just stood there. And stared.

  “I need to go talk to Carlin.”

  Nothing. Nada. Sometimes she wondered if there was all that much going on behind those eyes of his.

  “Fuck! You’re not going to move, are you?” She stepped back and slammed the door, kicking it a few times for good measure.

  Seemed like she’d just swapped one prison for another. And she wasn’t sure which was worse.

  * * *

  Something woke her. For a moment, she was completely disorientated, thinking she was back in that horrible cell. When she realized she was in her bedroom, though, the relief wasn’t as intense as she’d thought it would be.

  She wasn’t sad to have escaped, was she? They’d imprisoned her, threatened her with torture and, even worse, with having to pee in a bucket. She should not have any feelings towards them.

  She. Should. Not.

  Yeah, then how come you can’t stop thinking about them?

  She slammed a pillowed over her face, taking deep breaths. The noise came again. She moved the pillow away and sat up. A salt rock lamp was set on dim next to her bed. She turned the lamp up with the dial.

  There it was again. By the window. Something was hitting against it. She grabbed the baseball bat she kept under her bed. Even though she was under Carlin’s very thorough protection she felt safer having a weapon. This was the best she could do since Carlin refused to teach her to shoot.

  She pulled back the curtain. The moon was full tonight, providing plenty of light. She peered cautiously out the window.

  Holy fuck.

  She let the curtain drop and took a step away from the window, as though hoping he hadn’t seen her. Her body trembled. What was he doing here? How had he found her?

  Tap.

  What the hell was he doing? If Carlin’s guards found him, he was dead meat. Fear made her stomach churn. Strangely, she didn’t like the idea of him being hurt. She moved back to the window, just as another pebble hit the glass.

  Idiot.

  She pulled up the window, which earned her a pebble in the middle of her forehead.

  “Oh, shit, are you all right?”

  She rubbed at the stinging spot. Tears entered her eyes. Motherfucker. She should have just called the guards. She glared down at him then opened her mouth, prepared to let rip. He held out his hands.

  “Wait. Don’t scream for help. Just give me a few minutes to talk to you.”

  “You’re making so much fucking noise I don’t have to scream.” She looked around frantically, certain that at any moment guards were going to come running.

  He smiled “Are you worried about me?”

  “No.” She scowled down at him.

  “You are,” he said with delight. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve bought us a little time. Sent them on a bit of a ghost hunt. Still, you’re right. You should invite me in.”

  “Invite you in? I’m not fucking inviting you in. You can get lost, asshole.”

  He placed his hand on his chest. “I’m hurt. And here I thought you liked me. Certainly, seemed that way when you were plastered up against me. Twice.”

  That was a mistake. Both times. Oh, shit. Why was she attracted to him? To all of them? She shouldn’t be.

  “Here. Catch this.”

  Before she could reply, the end of a thick rope was swung up into the open window.

  “Be a doll and secure that really tightly, will you?”

  She raised her eyebrows. He was going to climb the rope up into her bedroom? What was she, Rapunzel? She sighed and, without thinking about it too much because that way led to madness, she tied off the end of the rope around the leg of the bed. It was solid, made of oak. It should hold.

  The rope tightened. She moved back to the window, peering out to watch him climb up the side of the house and into her room. He was a maniac. Didn’t he know how dangerous this was? How vulnerable he was? She kept watch, anxiety making her stomach churn. One arm appeared over the edge of the window then the other, and he made short work of climbing into her bedroom. He had a backpack secured to his back. He quickly drew the rope up and shut the window, pulling the curtains closed.

  He looked around her room. Taking in her bed, single dresser, and chair. Her room wasn’t much to look at. Carlin wasn’t one for creature comforts, the entire house was sparsely furnished.

  “Not exactly what I expected.”

  She put her hands on her hips. Her temper stirred, tugging at her. “And what did you expect?”

  He shrugged and prowled around the room. He picked up the bat and put it in the far corner of the bedroom. Was he worried she might hit him with it? He should be. She had to resist the urge to stomp after him and give him a good kick in the ass. Jesus, where had these violent tendencies come from?

  She hadn’t had them until she’d met him and his brothers. They obviously brought out the worst in her. He picked up the photo she kept of her with her parents on her dresser.

  “I guess I expected something warmer. Soft blankets. Mementoes. Shoes. Handbags. Clothes. The things all women like.”

  “Not all women.”

  Although she had to admit to liking the feel of soft material against her skin. She pushed that thought away. Her bedroom was fine, and she wouldn’t be made to feel like it was inferior by this idiot.

  “Like your house is any better. It’s filled of weird paintings and dusty furniture. Who has the bear obsession?”

  He looked startled for a moment then he smiled. And for the first time, he stopped and took her in. “Nice PJs.”

  She glanced down at herself. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Hard not to, though, when all she was wearing was a short, tight T-shirt that barely covered her belly button and a pair of silk boxers.

  “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

  “I’m not company. Company implies something more formal. Where you have to offer cups of coffee and cake and be polite.”

  “I’m never polite.”

  “I know. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

  His charming smile faded as his whiskey-colored gaze landed on her boxers. “Whose are those?”

  “Huh?”

  His voice had gone from light and flirty to cold. It rocked her for a moment, and she realized she’d actually been enjoying the banter. What was wrong with her? Had they drugged her earlier? Given her something that made her feel attracted to them?

  What, Gigi? Like a love potion? Get a grip.

  “The boxers. Those are men’s. Whose are they? Do you have a lover?”

  She gaped at him in disbelief. “Yep, I’ve got a lover. He’s hiding under the bed.”

  He turned to the bed.

  “You fucking idiot!” In a fit of anger, she pulled her hand back, balled it, and smacked it into his chest. “Do you really think I’d let you into my bedroom in the middle of the night if I had a lover in here?”

  “Was he here earlier?”

  “None of your goddamn business, you jerk. Now get out.” She pointed to the window.

&nb
sp; “Fine,” he snapped, making his way to the door.

  “What? No, you can’t go out that way.” Not for the first time she was grateful for thick walls that muffled all but the loudest of noises.

  “Why not? What’s on the other side?”

  She pushed herself in front of the door, spreading her arms and legs out. Oh, he could easily move her if he wanted to. She was a complete lightweight and she felt like an idiot. But if he went out that door, he was dead. He couldn’t sneak out of here, and she couldn’t live with his death on her conscience. Damn him for getting to her.

  “I don’t have a lover, all right? Satisfied?”

  “Not at all.” He watched her with a narrow-eyed intensity she hadn’t thought him capable of. Seemed like he hid a lot behind that easy-going exterior.

  “A woman can wear a pair of men’s boxers. It’s not a fucking crime.” She moved cautiously away from the door.

  “Joe is going to have a heart attack at your language,” he told her warningly.

  She threw her hands up into the air. “Oh, I’m so fucking scared. Shaking in my fucking boots. Oh, I’m not fucking wearing any. How’s my motherfucking language now?”

  His lips twitched. “I said Joe would be horrified. Personally, I don’t care. Makes me hot.”

  “Everything makes you hot,” she muttered, moving to the chair to sit down. Her legs didn’t seem to be all that steady anymore.

  “Now, that hurts. Not everything makes me hot. I have limits.”

  She snorted and realized her mistake as he sat on her bed. She should have left him the chair. She didn’t want him anywhere near her bed. He glanced over at the rumpled covers then picked something up. “Now, what do we have here?”

  Embarrassment flooded her, along with a hint of fear. “Give that back.” She forced herself to remain sitting, when all she wanted to do was jump up and snatch it out of his hands.

  He turned the bunny around, taking in all angles. It was worn in places, had been patched so many times it was unrecognizable from the stuffed animal it had originally been. And it meant more to her than anything else in this house. Well, except for her brother.

  “Not quite what I expected from you.”

  “Give it back. Now.”

  He looked at her. Studied her. Saw far more than she was comfortable with.

  “Okay, sweetheart. I wasn’t going to hurt it.”

  She was acting like an idiot. Still she breathed easier when he put it back on the bed.

  “It means a lot to you. You don’t have to worry, I don’t harm helpless bunnies.”

  * * *

  Or fragile females, he thought to himself. There was something about the stuffed animal that brought out her emotions. Broke that tough façade she tried to hide behind. But he saw through it. Or thought he did. She was a constant surprise.

  He’d been shocked to discover who she really was. This made things harder. It would have been easier if she were nobody. He understood now why she wouldn’t tell them her name. Question was, why had she been in their castle? Was it to spy for her brother? Rumor had it that Carlin was super protective of her. Garret could sympathize, he felt the same way. There was something about those big, vulnerable, blue eyes that spoke to him. That made him want to take her into his arms and shield her from everything. Of course, she’d probably kick him in the shin and call him a sexist asshole. But that was just part of the fun.

  However, he couldn’t see her brother sending in his baby sister to act as a spy. But why else would she have been there? Not that it mattered in the long run. If she was their mate, she’d be living with them soon. And with Sawyer’s change, he saw that as extremely likely. More than that, he wanted her to be theirs. He was attracted to her, felt protective of her, and sometimes he even liked her.

  When she wasn’t attempting to bash his head in or lying and telling him she was a reporter.

  “My parents gave it to me,” she said suddenly. She fiddled with the locket she wore.

  What?

  She glanced over at the bunny. Of course. It had sentimental value. He didn’t have anything like that. If his parents had given him anything as a child, he couldn’t remember, and it hadn’t survived all this time. Unlike all those ugly bear paintings and dusty furniture. He smiled as he remembered her words. The castle could use a bit of sprucing up. He wondered if she would enjoy that. She didn’t seem the type to be interested in worldly possessions, especially if her bedroom was anything to go by.

  But there had been something there when he’d spoken about what he’d expected her bedroom might look at. Something he would explore later. Now, he just had to figure out whether his feelings towards her were just lust or something deeper.

  And if she was their mate, he had to figure out how to convince her to return with him to the castle.

  “They died a few years ago, didn’t they? Did they give you that as well?” He nodded at her necklace.

  She looked startled. “Yes. But how did you know that? Do you know who I am?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She licked her lips. “Then you know it’s dangerous to be here. If Carlin discovers you—”

  “I can take care of myself,” he told her. He didn’t want her worried about that. “And you.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Carlin would never hurt me.”

  “Not what his reputation says.” He had a rep for being a nasty son of a bitch. Violent. Cold.

  She shook her head. “Carlin doesn’t hurt women.”

  No. He had to admit, he’d never heard of him hurting innocents. Didn’t mean he thought highly of the bastard. He was a criminal kingpin. He led a group of hard, nasty thugs. And he wasn’t to be trusted with her safety.

  “Carlin won’t hurt me, but he’ll kill you if he finds you here.”

  “I’m not worried about that. Is he the reason you were in the castle? Did he send you?”

  “What? No. He doesn’t even know I was there.”

  He studied her, but he didn’t think she was lying.

  “Is that why you’re here? Because you thought Carlin sent me? He had nothing to do with it. It was all me. I’m the only one at fault.”

  No, he thought. She wasn’t. Her brother was for not guarding her closely enough.

  “How did you know about the tunnels?”

  “You know about the tunnels?” Her eyes were wide, worried.

  “Yes.” He left it at that, not wanting her to know his knowledge was only hours old.

  “My mother knew about them. It was in her diaries.”

  “So, your brother knows?”

  She shook her head. “No, I never told him.”

  “Why not? Why use them to get into the castle?”

  She licked her lips. “I think you better go.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Georgina—”

  “Gigi,” she said quickly. “I only get called Georgina when I’m in trouble.”

  “Hate to tell you, sweetheart, but you are in trouble.” He liked the nickname. It suited her better.

  “With you?”

  “With all of my brothers. Come here, Gigi.”

  She shook her head.

  The predator inside him stirred at her refusal.

  Mine.

  He stilled for a moment, shocked at the sound in his head. That wasn’t him. The bear? But the beast didn’t talk. He’d never heard him before. Maybe he was just getting an impression of a thought. He knew the beast wasn’t a mindless thing. That, in bear form, they retained themselves. The only thing that changed was their physical appearance. Although, for a moment he’d worried that Sawyer had no idea who they were. That first change was something he both looked forward to and dreaded.

  “You trespassed. Illegally entered our house—”

  “I’d hardly call it a house,” she interrupted.

  He gave her a firm look. “And stole our property.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You
ate our food. Don’t think that I didn’t notice one of my Twinkies was missing.”

  “Your brother gave it to me!”

  He frowned slightly. “Who?”

  “Joe.”

  “He did? Hmm, I’ll have to have words with him. No one gives my Twinkies away. Not without compensation.”

  “So that’s what you’re here for? Compensation for a Twinkie? To punish me for breaking into your castle?”

  “I’m not really into doling out punishment, that’s more Sawyer’s thing. Although, I don’t mind a bit of slap and tickle for foreplay.”

  “Slap and tickle?”

  Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open in shock. Damn, she delighted him. He had to work hard to keep the grin from his face.

  “An erotic spanking, darling. Haven’t you ever had one?”

  “People like getting spanked?”

  She was such an innocent. For a brief moment, he wondered just how innocent. Surely, she wasn’t a virgin.

  “I have something for you.” He reached into the backpack he’d placed on the bed. He pulled out a blanket. Some plates of food. Candles. A bottle of wine and some glasses.

  “You brought me a picnic?” she stared at him, flabbergasted. “You followed me here, snuck into my room, risked getting caught and killed just to have a picnic with me?”

  “Oh, no,” he told her. “I intend to fuck you as well.”

  7

  Oh, no. I intend to fuck you as well.

  Arrogant asshole.

  She jumped to her feet and pointed to the window. “Get out.”

  He sighed as he picked up the blanket he’d placed on her bed and laid it on the floor then placed the containers of food on it. She stared down at the bowls of potato salad, roast beef, and fresh rolls and her mouth watered.

  But she would not be tempted.

  “We’ve been through this before, darling. If you want me to leave then I’ll go out the door.”