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)
Whoever lived here enjoyed power. Her mind declared the owner male, and once again, weakened by her female identity, she felt the infuriating stab of injustice. What if they were cruel? What if they caught her trespassing and decided to turn her in, or worse, punish her in that dungeon?
She couldn’t stay here, but she also couldn’t leave. Not yet.
The storm still raged outside, and she needed rest. For now, this strange place would have to do. But she wasn’t sure if she’d willingly broken into a sanctuary or another prison.
The adrenaline that carried her through the night in her desperate search for shelter was finally abandoning her, leaving her hollow and shaking. Exhaustion struck her all at once, crashing over her like a tidal wave. She needed sleep. Real sleep, not the fitful dozing she’d managed on the boat while nightmares chased her across dark water.
But she also needed a safe place to hide. Sleep would leave her vulnerable, so she searched for a resting place off the beaten path, following a hidden stairwell up to the third floor, where there appeared to be guest accommodations, though they were grander than any hotel suite she’d ever imagined. She tested the first bed—king-sized and topped with pillows that looked like clouds. But the mattress was too firm, unyielding beneath her weight like sleeping on marble. Too hard.
The second room held a bed that was even larger, almost throne-like in its proportions. But when she lay down, she sank so deep into the mattress she felt like she might disappear entirely. Too soft, like sleeping in quicksand.
The third room was different. Smaller than the others, though still larger than any bedroom she’d called home. The bed was proportioned for someone tall but not gigantic, and when she pulled back covers that felt like liquid silk and slipped between sheets that caressed her skin, everything felt just right.
The mattress supported her without rigidity, cradling her body perfectly. The pillows were soft but not suffocating, and the covers provided warmth without weight. Even the scent of the room was perfect—clean linen with hints of the same cedar and amber she’d noticed in the fur coat.
She should be ashamed of this massive trespass. Breaking into someone’s home, consuming their food, wearing their clothes, and sleeping in their bed. But guilt was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Tomorrow, she’d figure out where she was and decide where to go next. Tonight, she needed to sleep.
Despite her unshakable theory that the homeowner was someone powerful and threatening, as sleep pulled her under, her last coherent thought was that she felt safer than she had in months. Hidden away in this strange palace, wrapped in luxury and warmth, she could almost pretend that the stone walls could protect her from the monsters she’d escaped. But then again, she had no idea of the monsters within.
Chapter 3
Eyes in the Dark
Stone Volkov never slept through storms, a survival instinct carved into his bones by years of reading danger in shifting winds and atmospheric pressure drops that whispered of violence to come.
He stood sentinel in the surveillance room’s ethereal blue-white glow, fingers wrapped around a warmed tumbler of clear Stolichnaya that had surrendered its chill an hour ago, but he sipped it anyway.
Turning back to the wall of monitors that transformed the space into a technological altar, his eyes narrowed. Each screen offered a glimpse into every corner of their fortress. Storms played games on the senses, waking ancient trees as the wind breathed life into ice-covered limbs. Illusions that could easily frighten little ones, but he’d grown up around far worse.
Outside, the storm raged with the fury of primordial gods denied their sacrifice. Inside, empty corridors stretched like arteries through the lodge’s heart. Vacant rooms waited in patient silence. The great hall displayed its cold fireplace like an unlit funeral pyre, awaiting their next—
“What do we have here?” The motion sensor chimed softly, and his sharp, arctic glare cut to the upper screens with deadly promise.
Stone’s brow furrowed, cold eyes flicking from one harbor camera to the next, his predatory instincts honed by years of eliminating threats before they could breach his sanctuary.
“What in fresh hell was this?” He zoomed in the lens, but the storm made it difficult to see small details.
The dock’s weathered planks hosted an unexpected guest, small and shivering. A child? From where—here—at this time of night? Then he spotted the wreckage of what looked like a dilapidated boat that hadn’t existed thirty minutes ago, bobbing against the waves like an abandoned toy in the distance.
“A castaway?” Whoever it was, they looked to be hauling themselves onto death’s door. He glanced at the gauges. The temperature was below zero.
He was gathering his emergency rescue gear as the trespasser flailed onto the dock, flopping to her back and then falling completely still. He paused at the slight curves and long hair. A woman?