Page 64 of Gilded Locks

The house—or lodge as they called it—was state-of-the-art luxury wrapped in primitive strength. The castle-like exterior would hold up for years against the tundra-like conditions outside. She’d always thought the Isles of Kassel were tropical, but she supposed she was wrong. Or maybe the islands were just that big that they spanned different climates.

When she finished her lunch, she washed the plate and put it away. Opening the industrial-sized fridge, she set the jam back on the shelf where she’d found it. When she closed the heavy door, she jumped.

Hunter stood a foot away from her, glaring like she’d just robbed him.

Her heart jolted from calm to erratic as she took another step back. “Ash told me to eat.”

He grunted and opened the freezer.

She took several more steps back.

Paying her no mind, he pulled a frosted glass bottle out and set it on the counter beside two small glasses, then caught her by the sweater. “You stay.”

She didn’t want to stay. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Just looking at him now, made her aware of how her throat still ached.

“Sit.” He pointed at one of the upholstered stools at the island.

Reluctantly, she slithered onto the seat and tugged her sweater dress down to her knees.

Hunter filled the two glasses with what she suspected was vodka. She kept her head down and studied him through her lashes.

He had to be ex-military. Ordinary men weren’t built like that. His face was a mixture of chiseled, hard angles and scars. He rolled his neck, deliberate and slow, each little pop breaking the suffocating silence.

“Drink.” He pushed a shot glass in front of her.

Marigold lifted the glass with a shaky hand and sipped. Yup, definitely vodka. She took a minuscule sip and set the frosted glass down.

“No, drink.” He demonstrated by throwing his shot back and slamming down the empty glass.

She only ever did shots on her twenty-first birthday and that had not ended well. “I’d rather sip?—”

“Did I ask? Do as I say.”

Her hatred for him grew. Lifting the glass, she took a deep breath and tossed the contents back, sputtering as the icy fire rushed down her throat. Her eyes instantly watered. “Oh, God, that’s awful.”

He refilled her glass and pushed it forward. “Drink.”

“Seriously?”

He shot her a look that proved he was very serious.

Discouraged, she lifted the glass and hesitated. Two shots and she’d be drunk. Maybe that would be best. Reluctantly, she chugged it down and groaned.

When he refilled it again, she begged, “Please, no more.”

“Drink.”

“I can’t.”

“Either drink it or I’ll shove it down your throat myself.”

She pulled the glass closer and whispered asshole under her breath. Before she saw him move, her face was pressing into the counter. He had her bent over and pinned by the back of the neck.

“Do I look like someone you should fuck with?”

“Get off me!” She growled, but his hold only tightened.

A draft teased between her legs, reminding her she had nothing on under her sweater dress.