By Force by Sara Hubbard Page B

ashamed that I had accepted the information as absolute truths.
    “What do the marks mean? Is that your language?”
    He nodded once. “The dates of the kills.”
    “How…how many dates are there?”
    “You and your questions.” He closed his eyes and took a long breath. “Forty-two.”
    “What will you do when you run out of space?”
    He chuckled. “I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought. I never intended to kill so many people that I run out of skin to mark.” He shifted and the blanket lowered on his middle to show a faint line of hair below his belly button.
    I lowered myself to the floor and propped my head up on my hands. This man would be the end of me. The floorboards were rough and weathered, and every time I moved I swear my skin took a splinter.
    I waited for Remmie to go to sleep, wondering if I could slip out tonight. I worried I wouldn’t get far before they caught me again. They’d only come to my home to get me, and I’d risk hurting the rest of my family. No. I would stay and take my chances on the mountains.
    Hours later, I couldn’t stand the cold, hard floor anymore. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I couldn’t stand sharing the same space with Remmie and not be near him.
    I climbed into bed beside him, holding my breath the entire time. I removed all my clothes but for my sheath and I made sure to push the blanket down between us so we wouldn’t have any skin-to-skin contact. I didn’t trust myself any more than him.
    It took a long time to fall asleep. I slept deeper than I ever had until he shifted in bed and the creaking bed woke me. When I opened my eyes, my gaze met his. My stomach danced and the ache from earlier on, the one deep and low in my belly, came back and it traveled farther down, between my legs.
    The moonlight streamed in through the window, highlighting the planes of his cheekbones. His eyes twinkled.
    “I won’t be able to stop myself from touching you if you keep looking at me like that.”
    That made two of us. “I thought I wasn’t your type.”
    He threw the blanket off and rolled on top of me. A thin sheath separated us once again, only now I didn’t know how long it would stay between us, or if I wanted it to. I drew in a breath and licked my lips, trying to find the willpower to tell him to get off me and to make myself want him to.
    “Isame, I have a suspicion that you are every man’s type.” He shifted his body, the bulge between his legs pressing between mine. I gasped, shocked by how good it felt and how much I wanted him to move his body again. But I held my breath, knowing it might be over just as quickly as it began.
    “I…I…”
    “Tell me to stop.” His voice was low and husky.
    I couldn’t. I made myself think back to the night at the waterfall, how he’d hurt Ethan and my father and Henry.
    Remmie closed the distance between our faces, his long braid falling forward and hitting my shoulder. His lips hovered above mine. The intoxicating scent of cedar and sweat made me shiver.
    Henry. Father. Ethan.
    He moved his lips over mine. They barely touched, like he caressed them with a feather. My whole body felt as if it might explode at any moment. I arched my hips, pressing myself harder against him. I could feel his manhood throbbing between my legs.
    Henry. Father. Ethan.
    “I can’t,” I whispered. “Please. I can’t.”
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “Stop.” It sounded halfhearted.
    He leaned back to stare down at me. I swear he was the handsomest man I’d ever laid eyes on—and probably ever would. If only he hadn’t stolen me away or hurt my family. Would I have had a chance with him? Would I have given myself to him? Married him? As much as I wanted him in that moment, I reminded myself that I never wanted marriage. I wanted excitement and travel. Could I have had that with him? Could I have had it all?
    “Good night, Isame,” he said quietly before rolling off me and turning onto his side.