"Miranda? Do you come to me?" His voice was gentle but firm, brooking no refusal to his request. Peering at her under his long dark lashes, Jason noted her drawing her soft, sweet lips into her mouth a brief moment before parting them. Clearly she was frightened of him and it was proof positive she needed to know him sooner rather than later. If she was this afraid now, how much more would she be in a week or a month did he not attend to her? "Miranda?"
"I ... I..." In a flash, she turned and ran for the door.
Jason had anticipated her need to flee. She barely had her hand on the knob before he was behind her, pressing her against the door. He held her firmly, his large body dwarfing her petite figure, his arms encasing her with no effort. From the way she trembled, he knew she thought she would die, that without a doubt he would kill her.
He was assaulted by her scent, a subtle mingling of musk and roses. That her head barely came to his chest excited him in a primal way he had never before experienced. For a moment, albeit a brief one, he warred with himself. She was frightened of him, that was obvious, but he didn't want her to fear him, he wanted ... what? For her to desire him? To be pleased at the prospect of sharing his bed? How could he feel such raw need for his enemy?
He decided his course and sucked in a breath. "Where do you run, Miranda?" His voice was like silk, purring in her ear. Not angry or lewd, but gentle, questioning. "Will you tell me? Where do you run, Miranda?" Rather than speak, she tensed in his arms. It seemed as if she could barely breathe, not because of how he held her, but from her fear.
"If you had left my room and ventured into the house, who do you think would help you run from me? Can you name someone?" He felt her shake her head and the movement of her hair created a sensual torment along his chest and belly. He continued to speak softly into her ear. "And if you were to somehow move through the house and leave to the outside, where would you go? How long do you think you could run before the dogs came upon you?"
Again, she shook her head.
His hands moved from where they lay on the door encasing her in his embrace. He slid them to her arms, holding her to him, gently yet firmly. "And how would you fight them? What is your guarantee I would get to you before they tore you apart?" From how she tensed even more in his arms, he knew panic was coursing through her body.
She still did not speak.
Enfolding her into his arms, he felt her tremble through the taunt control she held herself in as he pulled her against his chest while his lips traveled down her cheek, lower to her neck.
)
