The Chateau Read online

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to wait for the right weather conditions.”

  “And how is now not the time?” It was snowing almost every day. It wasn’t a storm, but the snowflakes were constantly adding to the powder and making it difficult to traverse.

  “Because now that you know where you’re going, you need to get there as quickly as possible—and not leave tracks.”

  “Won’t the dogs smell me?”

  “Not if you cross a river. They’ll lose the scent.”

  Why didn’t I think of that? But then again, I didn’t even see a river, so…

  “We need to wait another week. It’s supposed to be sunny and warm, and a lot of that snow will melt. If you ride hard and don’t stop, you can get there within a few hours.”

  I squeezed my hands together, needing to convince myself this was really happening. “I knew that bell was real.”

  He didn’t acknowledge what I said.

  “Is that where I’m going? To the bell?”

  After a long stretch of silence, he gave a nod.

  “Oh my god…” My hands immediately covered my face, and I felt the tears well in my eyes. That bell had kept me going. It’d been calling me home. It’d been the light in the darkness. “Is it a church?”

  “A chateau.”

  “So, when I get there, I just—”

  “You wait for me. I’ll be there a few days afterward.”

  “You’re…you’re joining me?”

  “We’re far away from Paris, and that’s where you want to go, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re going to need help getting there.”

  “I can’t just ask someone?”

  He shook his head. “The chateau is still in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Then how does the bell ring?”

  “A timer.”

  “How do you know so much about this—”

  “Because it’s mine.” He looked slightly irritated by all the questions. “We need to focus on getting there, not what we’ll do once we do.”

  “Are you fleeing the camp too?”

  “No. That’s where I’ll go when I’m scheduled to leave.”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. I felt guilty that I would be escaping while the others didn’t. I feel terrible I couldn’t even tell Bethany that I was leaving, just in case she said something to someone she shouldn’t.

  “I’ll tie up a horse in the forest with everything you need.”

  “How will you do that?”

  He looked annoyed again. “Let me worry about it. After dinner that night, you’ll take the horse and run. You’ll need some daylight to see where you’re going to get past the river. Without it, you’ll never make it across. But once you get past that, you should be able to make it in the darkness. You made it as far as you did the first time, so this shouldn’t be hard for you.”

  For the first time in my life, I was speechless. All I could do was stare at this man who had risked his own neck for me countless times. He was rough around the edges, but good underneath. He rarely had nice things to say, rarely issued a compliment, but his soul was pure. He had a conscience, unlike everyone else in that place. “I don’t know how to thank you…for everything.” If the folklore was true, I would be the only woman to escape this camp in years, and it wasn’t happening because I had plotted a master plan that got me free. It was because a man cared enough to do the right thing.

  He dropped his gaze. “You can thank me by making sure you get across that river.”

  Days passed.

  The sun was out, and the snow melted.

  I had no idea what the date was, but I suspected it was the end of January, maybe February. Perhaps spring was coming early. Or maybe it was just a long pause before another storm.

  But I knew my time here was drawing to an end.

  Any day…it would happen.

  Without a mirror, I wasn’t unaware of the condition of my back, but I felt better. I didn’t have pain, and I didn’t spot any more drops of blood. The gauze seemed unnecessary, so I removed it.

  I’d been eating everything on my plate, making sure I got plenty of sleep, remaining mentally prepared for the undertaking I was about to make. But my heart constantly beat harder than it should, because I was nervous. If I was caught…that would be it. I was a cat with nine lives, and I’d already blown through the first eight.

  I sat up in bed and leaned against the wall with the Count of Monte Cristo in my hands. I’d read this story a dozen times before, but I read it again because it took on new meaning.

  Because I would make it out of there.

  The door opened, and Magnus walked inside with my evening tray. The woman never delivered the food anymore, as if he didn’t want anyone to interact with me besides himself. His hood was pushed down, and he carried the tray to the nightstand. Then he grabbed his chair and took a seat.

  I closed the book and set it to the side as I scooted to the edge of the bed.

  He glanced at the book, the cover visible. “Tomorrow.”

  Every day felt like the day it could happen—but now today was that day.

  “The horse will be in the forest behind your cabin. I’ll leave you a flashlight so you can find her. A bag will be tied to her saddle with everything you need inside.”

  I dropped my gaze for a moment and looked at my hands, my breathing ragged because it was really happening. Freedom was so close, but I was also terrified because I still had to go back out there…and survive. The darkness, the cold, the fear of the guards behind me…it was traumatizing.

  “Ride hard. Don’t look back.” He pulled out a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “Here’s the map.” It wasn’t a professional one created with a computer. It was hand-drawn, showing the camp, the forest, the path to the river, and then beyond. He turned it over and showed me the individual steps I could take to figure it out. “Keep the forest on your right. As long as you do that, you’ll hit the river. When you cross it, the chateau is farther to the left, so you’ll have to look at these landmarks to help you.”

  I took the paper from him, studying his notes to see if I had any questions.

  It was detailed enough that I didn’t have any. “Will I have a gun?”

  He shook his head. “The only way to retrieve those is with a code, so if they notice it’s missing, they’ll know I took it. I didn’t give you any weapons—because that would be too obvious. But you shouldn’t need them because all you have to do is get there as quickly as possible. If they did catch you, a weapon wouldn’t help you.”

  Probably not.

  I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket.

  Now we sat together in silence because there was nothing left to say. A part of me thought he would have a change of heart because everyone would assume he’d orchestrated my escape. But he didn’t.

  I stared at him, looking at a face I would never forget, even if I was fortunate enough to grow old. My memory of my young life would fade, but the memory of this man never would. I shouldn’t regard him as a hero for saving me, because he worked there in the first place. But he was definitely my hero.

  A few minutes passed before he spoke again. “I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” His brown eyes drilled into mine with invisible force, burning into me, digging deep past my eyes and further down into my soul.

  My breathing immediately slowed because I could feel the tension in the air, the sudden increase in heat, the implication of his words. Not once had he asked me for anything. Not once had he expected something in exchange for his kindness.

  But he’d been keeping receipts…and he wanted to collect.

  “I want you.” He was unapologetic about it, extremely candid. Now there was no misunderstanding, not there really had been since he’d first admitted it. There had never been a time when he looked at me like he wanted anything more than a conversation. His eyes
didn’t roam over my body the way the other guards did. Most of the time, he didn’t even act like he liked me. But he had a remarkable poker face. Maybe this had been his plan all along, the extended buildup to this moment.

  “No.”

  His eyes immediately lost their confidence, slowly filling with disappointment.

  “I refuse to believe you’ll only help me if I sleep with you. You’ll help me because I deserve to be free. You’ll help me because you know it’s the right thing to do. My answer is no.”

  His eyes slowly dropped, resignation coming over his face. It was one of the rare times when he showed something other than his stonelike stoicism or his anger. There was no response to my decision. He didn’t force himself on me. He didn’t leverage my freedom to coerce me. He accepted my answer.

  I watched him glide his palms past each other, his head bowed slightly to the floor. “But I’ll sleep with you…because I want to.”

  His hands stilled, and his body went rigid. Seconds later, he lifted his chin to look me in the eye again.

  It was impossible not to feel a connection to this man. I’d spent my life taking care of other people, and it was the first time I had someone to take care of me, to clean up my messes, to fix all my mistakes. The second his hood had dropped and I saw his face, I had been stunned by what I saw, because he was beautiful. He was the kind of man I could never have in the real world, because he could have someone much more beautiful than me. He would chase after Melanie or someone like her. But in this different reality, we were connected by something deeper than looks. We witnessed things other people couldn’t possibly understand. He was a man who needed more than a pretty face to fulfill his desires. He needed something deeper.

  He maintained his stare, his eyes different than before, giving me a look he’d never expressed in the past. It finally possessed emotion, overt reactions that were like words on a page. With deep intensity and masculine desire, he stared at me like there had never been a woman he wanted more than me.

  I’d never felt so beautiful. I hadn’t worn makeup, hadn’t even combed my hair, had only worn the most unflattering clothes, but I was somehow the woman he would do anything for.

  He continued that piercing look, like my answer was so powerful he didn’t know what to do with himself.

  With my eyes on his, I pulled my shirt over my head. My body was slim and tight because of my physicality in the camp. I’d never been so active, so I was in the best shape of my life. But I did have some bruises and scars from my mistreatment.

  He looked at me like he didn’t see anything except unblemished skin.

  My boobs were firm and my nipples hard because I was instantly cold…and tense. My dark hair fell down my shoulders and over my chest, but I pushed it back so it would hang down my back, so he could look at me.

  His eyes remained on my tits, and he released a deep breath, his jaw tightening slightly.

  I knew my back was scarred and ugly, so I didn’t turn my back to make him it.

  I untied the string to my pants then stood up so I could push them over my hips and let them slide to the floor. My legs were hairy because I hadn’t shaved in over a month. My underwear were the generic ones they issued to us, so they weren’t sexy by any means.

  But his breathing increased, like he couldn’t wait to watch me take them off.

  My thumbs dug into the waistband and then pulled them down, the bush of hair visible because I couldn’t groom my appearance. We weren’t allowed razors, probably because we would slice our wrists. My hair was curly and dark, covering the sight of my clit and opening.

  But he didn’t seem to care in the least.

  When my clothes were gone, I sat on the edge of the bed again, my knees pressed together, my hands in my lap, my nipples still hard because I was anxious. His chest would be warm against my body, and the momentary coldness would be replaced by sweat.

  He stared at me for another few seconds before he unclasped his cloak and let it slide into the chair and then onto the floor. Underneath was a long-sleeved black vest with little markings in it, the fur lining the edge of the sleeves. He gripped the back of the garment and pulled it forward over his head, revealing a black shirt underneath.

  I watched him, waiting to see what he looked like underneath. He looked muscular through his clothing, and now that I could see his arms, I knew how strong he was. He had big arms, with lots of different muscles that made them bulky and smooth at the same time. His skin was fair like he hadn’t seen the sun much, probably because it’d been freezing for a long time.

  He did the same with his shirt, pulling it forward and revealing muscular perfection.

  I inhaled a breath at the sight of him.

  In the center of two strong pectoral muscles was a patch of dark hair. His stomach was carved with lines, his abs distinct and strong because there wasn’t a layer of fat on top to hide them. Even when he was sitting, he didn’t have a gut. He was ripped, with a thin line of hair below his belly button that disappeared into his pants.

  My eyes roamed over his body, seeing a real man sitting before me, with muscles and hair. His collarbone popped out from his skin because he was so tight, so trim. His shoulders were muscular and broad. I’d never been with a man that looked anything like that…except in my fantasies.

  I swallowed the catch in my throat before I lifted my gaze to look at him.

  He studied my reaction, like he wanted to watch me want him, to see me want him as much as he wanted me. He loosened his boots and got them off before he pulled the string of his pants then rose to his feet so he could drop those next. He pushed them over his hips and thighs, his muscular legs too sculpted for the pants to just drop down like mine did. His thighs were thick with different muscles that made them tight and strong like tree trunks. They were covered with dark hair. He grabbed his black boxers next and pushed them down, revealing a big dick that was drooling at the tip. He wasn’t groomed either so there was a lot of hair around his balls, but it was sexy.

  I stared at his dick and felt my throat go dry at the sight of him. Instead of being stuck in that cabin in the middle of nowhere, I felt like I was somewhere else, in my bedroom with a man I’d noticed across the room in a bar…someone I wanted to take home the second he bought me a drink.

  He stared down at me, watched me watch him.

  I scooted back up the bed, my head reaching the corner of the mattress between the two walls. My thighs automatically parted from him to get on top of me.

  He looked between my legs before his knees hit the mattress. He moved down and on top of me, his thighs scooping underneath mine, his face level with mine. He released a deep breath right against my lips, a quiet moan barely audible, deep and masculine. His eyes were warm like a summer day, and his skin was already flushed in arousal when he’d barely touched me.

  My hands started at his stomach and moved up, over his hard pecs, to his shoulders, one hand moving to his jawline so I could cup his face. I stared at his lips and imagined how it would feel to kiss him, to feel those lips glide past mine, to feel his facial hair rub against my soft skin.

  He stared at my lips before he leaned down and kissed me, a soft embrace, a gentleness that he never showed. He was callous and cold, but he kissed me like I was delicate, like he wanted to explore me before he took me.

  The softness didn’t last long, because both of my hands dug into his hair and I deepened the kiss, feeling a tightness in my stomach, an electric flush throughout my body that made me feel like I was somewhere far away. The chemistry was as hot as a lit torch, and the closeness I shared with this man made me desire him more, made me crave his touch deeper and deeper. The kiss turned urgent and frantic, both of us wanting each other more desperately as the minutes went on.

  He pulled his lips away so he could grab his base and direct himself inside me, moving through my hair and landing in the wet slit that was ready to take him. He didn’t lick his hand and moisten his tip because he didn’t need to. With e
yes locked on mine, he groaned as he felt my desire, groaned louder as he sank deeper and deeper.

  My hands glided up his back as I pulled him closer to me, feeling a fullness between my legs that made me moan with hot breath. My hands dug into the backs of his shoulders as I secured him on top of me, feeling the chemistry between our wet bodies ignite and explode.

  My ankles locked around his waist, and I enjoyed the first pleasure I’d received since coming to this terrible place. This man was my savior, the one looking over my shoulder when I forgot to check myself. He had my back when I only had my front. He was always there for me, keeping me alive, saving my ass when I thought it couldn’t be saved again. He gave me everything, selflessly.

  He was the reason I would get out of here.

  He was the reason my fate had been different from the others who weren’t so lucky.

  He was the reason…for everything.

  He closed his eyes and groaned as he felt me, his dick deep inside me, surrounded by the wetness that my body produced in copious amounts. Without a single kiss or touch to my clit, he made me soaking wet. He opened his eyes and looked down into my face as he started to thrust, pushing fully inside before he pulled out again, moaning every single time like he couldn’t believe how good I felt.

  My nails clawed at his body, and I breathed against his mouth, feeling his chest hair moving between my tits, feeling his body heat thaw me like I was next to a fire in the hearth. My ankles yanked on his ass as he moved inside me, pulling him a little deeper, wanting as much of him as my body could handle.

  His hand moved into the back of my head, and he fisted the strands, tilting my chin up so he could kiss my neck, smothering me with hot kisses from his hungry lips. His mouth moved between my tits, and he kissed me everywhere, enjoying my body like it was flawless, like I was the most desirable woman in the world.

  My nails dug into his flesh, and I held on to his frame, getting lost in the haze of desire, of sweaty and sensual sex, of the way he made me feel good when I’d felt so bad for so long. The passion was hot as a fire, like it was the first time we’d given in to our desire, but our bodies were so in sync, it was as if we’d been lovers for years.