His to Take by Shayla Black Page A

out, her heart pounding.
    Immediately, he eased back. “I’m not trying to scare you, just give you comfort.”
    “You want to comfort me? Leave me the hell alone. Let me go.”
    A long moment passed. He hesitated, seeming to ponder the situation and giving her
     another one of those piercing stares that made her shiver. Finally, he stood.
    “I can give you half of what you want. I’ll leave you for a bit and give you some
     time to think. But I can’t let you go. You’re here until I can figure out how to keep
     you safe. Too many people have died for this cause already, and I’ll be damned if
     I’m going to let them add you to the list. You hungry?”
    Honestly, she was. And her stubborn pride wanted to refuse to take food from him.
     The other part of her knew that if she wanted to have the strength later to escape,
     she couldn’t cut off her nose to spite her face.
    “Yes.”
    “Your medical records say you’re allergic to peanuts. Anything else? Foods you don’t
     like.”
    How had he learned that? Bailey didn’t want to ask. She just shook her head.
    “Fine. I’ll have someone bring you something shortly.”
    So they weren’t alone? Maybe someone else would show up and take pity on her, realize
     that she didn’t belong here and—
    “I see the wheels turning in that pretty head. No one here will help you. They all
     know the stakes and won’t let you escape. There’s no way out of here anyhow.” He stalked
     over to the big floor-to-ceiling windows and opened the shutters. Sunlight streamed
     in . . . and bars covered the windows.
    She wasn’t escaping easily.
    Her captor fished in his pocket and extracted a key. He leaned over her, their faces
     too close as he braced his hands on the headboard and peered into her eyes. Breathing
     turned difficult. Her heart thumped hard against her chest.
    “I know you think I’m crazy,” he whispered. “Give me time to change your mind.”
    When he reached out and uncuffed her wrists, Bailey didn’t dare refute him. Slowly,
     he helped her lower her arms to her sides, massaging as the blood rushed back. His
     touch zipped through her, hot and electric. Powerfully frightening. God, what was
     wrong with her?
    Bailey recoiled. She’d always had bad taste in men, but she refused to stoop so low
     as to admit her attraction to him. “I got it. Don’t—” She tried to scramble away from
     him. “Don’t touch me.”
    He lifted his hands up in a gesture of surrender and stepped up, off the bed. “I only
     meant to help, but . . . The bathroom is through that door.” He pointed somewhere
     behind her and to her left. “Before you get excited, the window in there is covered
     by bars, too. Otherwise, you’re free to roam this room. I’ll bring you some books
     and magazines in a bit.”
    With a pivot, he turned his back to her. She couldn’t stay here and wait for him to
     convince her of his lunacy.
    Instinct kicked in. This might be her best chance to escape.
    Bailey eased off the bed and crept to one of the shelves near the window, grabbed
     a heavy wooden statue from its shelf, then tiptoed behind him.
    As soon as he unlocked the door and opened it, she rose up on her tiptoes and lifted
     her arm soundlessly. Normally, she’d never be able to hit anyone. But this was life-or-death.
    He whirled suddenly and gripped her wrist in his unyielding hold. She couldn’t move
     as his eyes burned into hers.
    “Sweetheart, I’ve worked as an undercover agent fighting some of the most dangerous
     people in the world longer than you’ve been legal. Did you really think you were going
     to surprise me?”
    His mocking question made her feel small, helpless. She hated him for that. “Let me
     go.”
    He grabbed the wooden block from her hand, then released her. “Nice try. By the way,
     the name your biological parents gave you when you were born was Tatiana. You were
     Viktor Aslanov’s youngest daughter.”
    Then he was gone, the door secured