“Only a prisoner.”

One of his dark brown brows twitched, but I couldn’t link the reaction with an emotion. I didn’t know him well enough. And I doubted anyone knew him like that. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if he was capable of emotions at all, or if his facial expressions were just his body’s natural reaction to outward influences or something he’d learned to imitate from being around other people.

When the silence became unbearable, I asked, “So I can leave if I want to?”

Growl’s amber eyes pierced me to the core. “You can try,” he rumbled. “But I will find you no matter where you go. I will follow you to the end of the world.”

“How romantic,” I whispered with false bravado.

“You are mine.”

“I’m not,” I snapped. I wasn’t a trophy Falcone could hand out to his soldiers.

He tilted his head, appraising me. “Come on.” He turned without waiting for my reaction. I couldn’t believe him. I grabbed the backpack from the ground and was about to follow when I saw the dogs standing in the hallway in front of the room. I jerked to a stop. They both watched me calmly but with definite interest. My pulse picked up again. And I’d thought I was too tired to be afraid anymore. Definitely not.

“They won’t hurt you. They are good dogs,” Growl said, waiting for me down the narrow corridor. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard a hint of amusement in his voice.

“They don’t look like good dogs,” I said hesitantly as I crept closer to them.

“Don’t judge things by their looks. Looks are deceiving.”

My back against the wall, I walked past the dogs. They followed me slowly, their keen eyes never straying from me.

My gaze wandered over Growl. His tattoos and scars. “Sometimes the outside and the inside match,” I said quietly.

His expression shifted, but again I had no chance of knowing what was going on in his head. At least he’d caught my hint, so he wasn’t as ignorant as some people considered him to be.

He pointed at a door. “That’s the bathroom.”

“There’s only one?” I asked, and then almost cringed at how that made me sound.

“This is your life now, better get used to it,” he said.

I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door, feeling a flood of satisfaction at having that sliver of control, if only for a moment. I ignored the worry that Growl might be lingering in front of the door and listening to whatever I did, and went to the toilet. He’d heard and seen worse, no doubt. But I made sure to hurry and was glad when I was done.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the washbasin when I washed my hands and almost recoiled from my own reflection. My hair was a wild mess and mascara smudged the skin around my eyes from crying, but worst of all was how pale my face was and how hollow my eyes looked. Only one day and not only my life had changed, but my body too.

I didn’t want to imagine how much worse off I’d be in a few weeks or months. I didn’t want to imagine having to live through that many days with Growl as my captor. I took a deep breath and turned the water to cold, then splashed my face with it until I felt more like myself. I tried to forget where I was for the moment, tried to let familiar motions take over my body. When I peered into Growl’s bathroom cabinets for a toothbrush, I was greeted by the same emptiness that I’d encountered elsewhere in the house. There was a toothbrush and toothpaste, a razor, and deodorant. No cologne or other body care products. I put some toothpaste on my forefinger and used it to brush my teeth.

After that I turned to the shower, but hesitated in front of it, debating if I should risk getting naked. But the stench of blood still lingered on my skin, mingled with sweat and Growl’s musky scent. I got out of my clothes. I wasn’t safe anymore. I needed to take a shower, even if that meant lowering my guard. Sooner or later Growl would do whatever he wanted to do, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

The shower stall was old but clean, the faucet creaky, and it took a long time for the water to turn moderately warm. I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw and hot, and would probably have continued to do so if a knock hadn’t interrupted me.

“You’ve got two more minutes.”

I turned the water off. Despite my first instinct to provoke Growl, I didn’t want to risk him coming in. I quickly dried myself off and then opened the backpack. My breath hitched when I caught sight of my clothes. It was strange how little things suddenly meant so much.

I carefully took out a crème-colored cotton dress that hugged my body. I’d wanted to donate it because it wasn’t in vogue anymore. Now it felt like the most precious thing I owned. I slid the soft fabric over my body and put on tights. Being dressed in my old clothes felt wrong in this place, like a relic from better times.

When I left the bathroom, Growl wasn’t there, nor were his dogs.

I lingered in the hallway, unsure of what to do or where to go. The walls were grayish white like in my room, and the dark wood floor had seen better days.

The scent of coffee drifted over to me and eventually lured me into a big kitchen. Growl leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand and his dogs lying on blankets in a corner of the room. His gaze was directed at a message on his mobile. There weren’t any chairs or a table. Apparently, Growl preferred to take his meals while standing.

He looked up and his eyes traveled the length of my body, lingering on my legs and hips and breasts.

I forced myself to remain calm, to hide the nerves the heat of his gaze created.

He wore a tight white shirt that didn’t manage to hide his muscles, nor the outlines of too many tattoos. My eyes drifted to the scar around his neck.

“Here,” he said, pushing a cup of coffee over to me. “Drink.”

“I prefer my coffee with milk,” I said.

“No milk in the house. Black or nothing.”

I took the cup, relishing the heat of it, and downed a few gulps of the hot liquid. His attention had returned to the cell on the kitchen counter again. “There are eggs in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

I stared at him. “Are you serious?” I asked, setting the cup down hard on the counter. “Yesterday Falcone gave me to you like a present and now you pretend like this is normal, like we can act normal around each other. Why don’t you do us both a favor and let me go.”

He was in front of me before I could react. I craned my neck to peer at his face. I was trapped between him and the kitchen. He grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up on the counter, then pressed between my legs, bringing our faces close together. I held my breath, stunned by his sudden movement.

My heart was beating frantically against my ribcage, but I tried to hide my fear of him behind my hatred. His hand cradled the back of my head, keeping me in place and then his mouth came down on mine, his tongue sliding past my lips. I made a sound of protest but it was swallowed by Growl’s mouth. He tasted of coffee, and the hint of toothpaste. His lips were soft, but not his kiss. His tongue claimed my mouth. The kiss was dominant, overwhelming.

I jerked my head back, panting, and glared at him. I hated him. Hated him for who he was, but worse, for what he’d made me feel. For the barest moment I’d allowed myself to drown in the kiss because it managed to make me forget everything, helped me drown out the sadness and fear and worry. And in that short instant, it had felt wondrous and good. So good that my body had tingled and I’d felt it in my fingertips and toes. Everywhere. It was wrong. God, so wrong. Like the man in front of me.