My arms were pinned above my head and I stood bare against a cool stone wall. Similar barriers framed the dim orange-yellow room lit by obtuse, dripping candles, like something of a medieval flick. My chest was still heaving from the fear and adrenaline of the past few hours. Sweat caressed my naked curves.
This place was humid as hell for some pit in the ground.
My head was still spinning when I noticed him, his frame outlined in the doorway.
His stance was casual, relaxed with his shoulder against the wall and arms crossed in front of him. My eyes wandered and a bolt tumbled down my back as his full, casually uncovered body came into sight. He wore nudity like some mythic god--soft, hairless skin, glistening from the heat and moisture of the room, laid upon an inhumane frame that I knew as well as anyone, that I'd watched and cheered for like so many others. The curve of his hips receded upward to thick bands for a chest and broad shoulders that rippled when he moved.
But god, that face of his.
As my eyes trailed upward they seemed to fuse into his, deep-blue orbs that hinted at some dark, violent contrast to the brooding expression that clung to his lips. He knew why he was here, standing the way he was in front of my helpless form.
Why isn't he moving?
He turned his head to the side, almost quizzically, and the light from behind him seemed to flounce past those arched cheekbones and squared jaw.
What vast resources had he burned, I knew, how many powerful men had he ripped through like it was nothing to put me here?
Hell, he couldn't resist me.
The thought sent another shudder down my spine. For how many thousands of years had he walked the earth? It didn't matter, it was him that had been to hell and back to put me here.
He came to life in that instant. I could see his veins twitching through his skin. There was a crazy, guttural change to his eyes, like the ocean blue had given way to a dark, raging storm.
