Light Secrets

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I'm so honoured to have won second place for Best Suspense 0-5K in Undiscovered Wolves Book of the Year Contest for this story recently. I sincerely thank all those involved and anyone who voted for my little story! :)

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"People change for two reasons:
Either they learned a lot, or they've been hurt too much."

I eye the devil warily from my spot on the couch as he slips through the front door. With my legs curled beneath me under a blanket, the ankle bracelet is an annoying reminder of my situation.

A prisoner, cuffed and chained.

"The demon from hell returns." The words are nothing but a whisper under my breath as I pretend to read the novel I'd found on a dust covered shelf. It's classic literature, but 'The Call of the Wild' is not the best reading for someone in my situation. There are no domesticated canines around here feeling the call of the wild, enduring a tough life as they find their inner strength... only natural born killers perfectly comfortable in their own skin.

His searing inspection heats my body, before crawling up to my shoulder left bare by the too big shirt. My skin prickles and I pull the sleeve back up, drawing those burning eyes to my face.

"Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?" A frown creases his brow at my obstinate silence, my desire to communicate with a beast who threatened to do horrific things if I dared go against his wishes still understandably absent.

He continues to stare until, unable to stay still under his appraisal, I fidget on the cushioned seat. The blanket chooses that moment to appease the gods of gravity. As the length of my thigh is bared to the cool air, Alessandro launches towards me. Before I can scoop the material over me, he yanks the edge up, tucking it around me like one would a small child.

This behaviour coming from someone who was happy enough to leave my breasts partially exposed beneath a sheer dress for the past few days? Hypocrite much?!

I raise my chin, giving him a haughty stare as I re-open the book, not caring if I'm on the right page. He raises an arrogant eyebrow, then turns a suspicious glare to the men, lest one be careless enough to gawk. Even though all eyes are on the cards in their hands, their sudden quietness and stiffened spines indicate they're aware of his regard. I can hear the grinding of several sets of molars as his glower drills into the sides of their heads.

He needn't shoot daggers at them. They weren't suicidal enough to go against the order he'd barked at them- the one to not touch or even look at me too long- while he prowled outside to check the perimeter.

I'm guessing the catalyst for his sudden lack of trust in my prison guards is his extreme frustration at me being completely bare beneath the long shirt. Any pants he gave me simply fell off my hips, and even tying a cord around them didn't help the fight against gravity. Me laughing at his grumbling hadn't helped his mood, either. Suck it up, buttercup!

The men were clever enough to keep me in their peripheral vision the entire time they bantered between themselves. After all, he wouldn't want me to escape or stumble into trouble. Heaven forbids! Who would he bully then? Although bully is too weak a word. Terrorise... confound... exasperate... I won't even mention the confusing arousal his undivided attention causes me.

Rick throws his hand of cards on the table, eyes on his three companions. Their poker faces are developing cracks where irritation is leaking out. "Slade, we all know how touchy your beast is right now, but there's too much tension flying around this room."

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