Page 27 of Vow Of Fire

He must have seen the defiance in my expression, because his lips curled back into what I can only describe as a sneer.

“You will tell me what I want to know, Evelyn. One way or another. I will get to the truth.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, narrowly avoiding rolling my eyes.

The silver calm turned stormy. Dante didn’t like my dismissive attitude. All the more reason to use it more often, I thought with a sliver of satisfaction.

He took a step closer until the tips of our shoes were touching. I backed up as far as I could. The door handle dug into my lower back, but it was preferable to the angry daggers shooting from his tempestuous eyes.

“You do know that at this moment I have skilled hackers going through your phone records and your emails. If there are any skeletons in your closet, they’ll find them.”

I glared at him, hating the invasion of my privacy, hating how distractingly hot he looked in that moment. Demonic, but sexy as hell. Like Cabanel’s Fallen Angel come to life. The contrast was messing with my head.

“You have no right! That’s against the law.”

“Six of my men are in the ground,” he growled. “The law doesn’t come into it.”

“They didn’t die because of me,” I snapped, trying to shove him aside. He didn’t budge. Damn his six-foot-three, immovable hulk of a frame.

He raised a hand and I flinched, bracing myself.

“I’m not going to hit you,” he muttered, instead trailing a finger gently along my jawline. His gaze had turned from angry to something unreadable. Something I couldn’t put a name to.

My pulse kicked into overdrive. Damn my body for reacting the way it did. Heat spread through my extremities, heightening all my senses.

My breath caught in my throat. “What are you doing?”

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, ignoring my question.

“I’d like to get out of here,” I fumed, but for some bizarre, inexplicable reason, I didn’t pull back.

He chuckled and grazed my cheek until he reached a strand of my hair. I felt him twirling it around his fingers, until he had a fistful. He didn’t pull it, just closed his hand around it, drawing me closer to him.

His eyes glowed in the semi-darkness. “Liar.”

“You’re imagining things,” I croaked, my throat suddenly drier than the Sahara. “You kidnapped me, remember? Why on earth would I feel anything for you?”

“Because you can’t help it.”

“You’re crazy.” I pressed myself into the door. If only it would swallow me whole. Anything to get away from him.

“Am I?”

He released my hair, tracked a finger down my neck, across my collarbone and down to the dip in my cleavage. My heart nearly stopped mid-thump. It definitely skipped a few beats. I felt like he was scorching me with a hot poker.

Turning his hand over, he brushed his knuckles across my breast. It was a casual but intimate gesture. I cursed silently as my traitorous nipples puckered beneath my sweatshirt.

He chuckled. “I think I proved my point.”

And just like that, he dropped his hand and stepped back. My body was still tingling, buzzing with the aftereffects of his touch. I felt weak, hot, and so freaking confused.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it because he turned his back on me and went to inspect the kitchen.

Legs shaking, I stumbled back to the couch. I was tempted to run to the bedroom and slam the door, but didn’t want to risk him following me there. Besides, there were no locks, I’d checked. Unlike on the front door.

No escape from the cabin, or from the man who held me captive.

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