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Heat floods my face, as it usually does when I consider the ludicrous juxtaposition of my darker, deviant fantasies against my card-holding “good girl” status as a fuckingvirginattwenty-six years old.
But you can’t help what you want. At least, I can’t. The things we crave and desire in the dark recesses of our psyches are rarely things we’ve chosen. They’re just…there.
And mine cannot be ignored.
I tug at the towel, pulling it away from my naked body as my mind drifts, lost in the fantasy as I watch the scene play out on my phone. My thighs spread wider, and a small gasp escapes my lips as I run my fingers up my bare thighs toward my needy pussy.
And then, I feel it.
A coldness.
A darkness.
A malevolent presence.
I freeze as my breath catches.
“Don’t stop now, little thief. Things were just getting interesting.”
I almost scream. My heart lurches in my chest as I jerk my head up, my eyes widening in shock as they peer into the darkness of my bedroom.
There, standing at the far end of the room, half-hidden in the shadows, is a figure.
Tall. Dark. Broad-shouldered.
Mal.
“Well, well,” his voice is smooth and dark, dripping with amusement. “What do we have here, and more importantly, what am I going to do with younow?”
7
FREYA
There’s nowhere to run.
Mal steps out of the shadows, his tall frame blocking the only exit.
It feels like I’m going to hyperventilate and pass out.
I yank the towel tighter around myself as he stalks closer. The room suddenly feels smaller, like the walls are closing in on me together with him and his suffocating presence.
He moves with the same deadly grace I saw in the office, the same quiet confidence that says he knows exactly how to control the situation.
He’s in black jeans, white t-shirt, and black leather jacket, and he prowls toward me like an animal. My heart slams against my ribs as I shiver and sink back into the chair. I wrap the towel around my body even tighter, curling my knees up away from him as if to disappear into the chair.
I should be feeling pure terror. Nothing but fear. But instead there’s somethingelsecoiling in the pit of my stomach.
Something dark and shameful.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe, my voice shaking even though I’m desperately trying to inject it with confidence.
Mal doesn’t answer right away. He stops a few feet from where I’m curled up in the chair, his eyes scanning me.
Slowly. Deliberately.
I can feel his gaze slide across my skin like a physical touch, making my breath catch in my throat. He tilts his head slightly, darkness swirling in those piercing blue eyes.
I grit my teeth, my fingers trembling against the fabric of the towel. “Answer me.”
