Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“What nice manners you have.” He chuckled. “Steal our food and clothes, but put them back sweetly.”
He didn’t mind her thievery because she was doing the hard part for him. Dry clothes, a warm house, and a full belly. It wouldn’t be long before she crashed. And then she’d be at his mercy.
He followed her curious journey from one lens to the next. When she discovered the second-floor playroom, Stone’s breath crystallized in his lungs.
“Careful, little one.” He zoomed in to see her face more clearly.
She froze in the doorway, like a deer scenting predators, staring at the equipment and sensing the edge of danger it implied. The confusion painted across her features was genuine. She didn’t understand what she was seeing. Not completely. But some part of her knew.
A flush of color that had nothing to do with the lodge’s warmth flickered across her face.
Curiosity.
He leaned closer to the monitors, pulse quickening as he watched with a slow grin. “See something you like, Zayka?”
Her hand slowly reached out, only to still before touching a single surface. She backed out of the room slowly. Her palm pressed against the closed door for an extended moment, as if she wanted to understand but had to deny herself the time to explore in order to prioritize survival.
* * *
He chuckled. “Coward.”
He tracked her exploration to the third-floor bedrooms. The cameras were Stone’s masterwork. High definition and night vision capable, positioned to capture every angle of beds that had witnessed pleasure in its most exquisite forms. He’d installed them personally, taking pride in the image quality that would make Hollywood envious.
Never had he been so grateful for his perfectionism.
She tested the bed Hunter preferred during club events, bouncing once and moving on with the decisive dismissal.
Stone grinned. “Of course, you’ll want something softer for sleep.”
The next bed was made for slow seduction and long cuddles, Ash’s domain during parties. She sank into memory foam and wrinkled her nose like a cat offered substandard caviar.
“Sweet, little, precious rabbit. You’re used to comfort, aren’t you? I think I know exactly what you need.”
He switched cameras and waited as his bedroom door opened. Despite his pleasure that his bed suited her taste, his jaw clenched when she pulled back the covers.
His room. His sheets. His private sanctuary, to which no one entered without an explicit invitation. His nostrils flared as she slipped between the sheets, wearing Hunter’s sweater and his spare sable coat. The sight of her there, golden hair scattered across his ivory pillows like spilled champagne, sent molten heat shooting through his veins like liquid fire.
She looked like she belonged there. Like she’d been born to grace his sheets and warm his bed. The thought was so unexpected, so completely inappropriate, that Stone shoved back from the monitors as if they’d turned radioactive.
He snatched his phone, stabbing out a text to his brothers like he was declaring war.
* * *
Get down here. Now.
* * *
Hunter’s response materialized instantly.
* * *
What’s wrong?
* * *
There wasn’t time to explain in detail. Showing them would be easier.
* * *
Surveillance room. Now. Bring Ash.
* * *
Stone poured fresh vodka while he waited, keeping one eye on the monitor displaying the sleeping intruder and the other on the door. She’d curled on her side with one hand tucked beneath her cheek.
In sleep, she appeared fragile, breakable in ways that had nothing to do with physical strength. But he knew better. There was untapped strength inside of her, the kind borne of will and suffering more than muscle.
His fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler as heavy footsteps announced Hunter’s approach. In the last second of having her to himself, he grieved and accepted that she would never be solely his.
“What is it?” His older brother filled the doorway like a flesh-and-blood natural disaster.
Dark hair tousled from working out, sweat still slick on his bare chest, and black cotton pants that slung low enough to display the roadmap of scars across his torso. Each mark told a story of violence survived and lessons learned in blood.
“We have a visitor.”
“Someone dies tonight,” Hunter growled in Russian, scanning for threats across the machines.
“Not yet.” Stone gestured toward the monitor watching his bedroom. “There.”
Ash materialized behind Hunter, his characteristic silence intact. Stone didn’t need to see him to know he was there. He sensed him like a shift in atmospheric pressure that drops the temperature and kills the wind. Where Hunter was brute force and volcanic fury, Ash was controlled violence wrapped in deceptive calm. Ash moved with surgical precision disguised as meditation.
Glancing back to read his brothers’ expressions, he took in Ash’s dark jeans and a thermal shirt that outlined every muscle. His alert ice-blue eyes zeroed in on the screen despite the ungodly hour. “Is it a child?”
“No.”
“A woman,” Hunter said matter-of-factly.
Stone watched Ash’s expression transform as comprehension dawned. “How did she penetrate the island?”