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“Why?” she snarled.

“You’ve seen too much. I can’t have you leaving.”

Who knew exactlywhatshe’d overheard on the journey? And she might have seen me shoot the mercenaries. No, to protect our people and the village, our home, Atlas was right. She had to stay. But it was easier if she hated me, so when Iosif married her, she wouldn’t see him as the enemy. For my cousin’s sake, I would take the brunt of her wrath.

The fact that she’d been hurt during the extraction factored into the equation. Leaving here would make her vulnerable. The wrath of the Twelve would never fall on her. I would prevent that at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing her to Iosif.

“Come, eat with me,” I beckoned her to the table.

She didn’t want to. But the begrudging way she moved to the seat told me she was probably starving. It wasn’t like there was much in the house by way of groceries.

“So I’m your prisoner,” she sassed. “Are you going to tie me up?”

Oh, beauty....I liked that idea. Liked it far too much. My groin tightened at the idea of her slim wrists caught in an intricate knot, the rough rope coiled down her smooth skin, her body pinned in place with the lengths of hemp.

I banished those thoughts and cleared my throat. “When you feel recovered, I’ll introduce you to Dorothea. We work around the village, and there’s always odd jobs to do.”

“Village.” Incredulity filled her voice. “Where the hell am I? Europe?”

“Florida.” I chuckled, enjoying the shock that slipped over her face.

“Florida.” She tasted the word. “I’m in...Florida.”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to work? For you?”

There it was, the spoilt little princess coming out of her shell. Those fine fingers never saw a day of hard labor in their life. Theos, she was going to hate it here.

I couldn’t wait to see her squirm. My gaze dipped to her pursed lips, and more heat spread through my stomach.

She’s not for you.I fisted my hand under the table.

“We help our neighbors,” I said simply.

Serena plucked at the food.

“I’m not your neighbor,” she said, shoving a bite of lamb into her mouth. “I’m your captive.”

I watched her chew, savoring the way her jaw tensed with defiance even as her eyes fluttered at the taste. Since I couldn’t cook, when I visited the village, I relied on my aunt, who believed food was the cure for everything, including a wild heart. I wondered if Serena’s was truly wild or just temporarily feral from fear.

“Semantics,” I replied, serving myself. “You’ll find everyone works here. Even me.”

“And what exactly do you do?” Her fork clinked against the plate as she stabbed another piece of meat.

I leaned forward, letting the candlelight catch more of my features, but careful to keep the ugly parts turned away. “I protect what’s mine.”

Something shifted in her expression—recognition perhaps, or a deeper fear. She set her fork down slowly. “I think I’ve had enough of your protection for one night.”

She rose, and I mimicked her movements. She frowned at the display of manners. While she would find me as untamed as the sea, I did possess some knowledge of land behavior.

“Goodnight, captor,” she breathed. “Thank you for the meal.”

“It’s Markos, and you can finish once I leave,” I said lightly, scooping a piece of bread before turning to the door. “Make sure you stay indoors this time, prinkípissa.”

“Why? What monsters roam the streets down here?” Her teasing lilt hid the drops of fear.

“Only the worst kind—but don’t fear. You’re safe in my home. No one will touch you,” I promised and left. Because it was true. We weren’t good men, and I was the worst. Someone would have to have a death wish to mess with what was mine.