Captured by Melinda Barron Page A

again. And again. And again.
    Venise wondered if she’d ever feel anything so intense again in her life.
    “So good,” she whispered when he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “If we keep this up I may be dead within the week.”
    “Never,” he said, tumbling to the side of the bed before setting up. “No one can die from extreme pleasure. Do you need something to drink?”
    “Yes, please.”
    She watched him walk to the table, the most perfect specimen of manhood she’d ever seen. She needed to thank Mrs. Westergard when they returned for sending her down here.
    Thinking of the woman who’d arranged all this reminded Venise they needed to be devising a way out. If the witch answered the questions they’d put to her they might find a way. If not, then they needed to find a different way.
    “Did you remember to put the paper with the questions on the table?” She took the glass he held out for her, taking a deep drink.
    “I did.” He sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. “In the morning we’ll find out whether or not she’s in an agreeable mood.”
    “I wonder if it’s possible that the witch found a way to come back. Do you think it’s possible that she’s actually Mrs. Westergard?”
    “I don’t know.” He stroked her hair. “I remember she was an older woman, with nary a wrinkle on her.”
    Venise shivered, then pushed away from his chest. Mrs. Westergard had been older, but didn’t look her age.
    “I wonder if…” she jumped up and went to her purse, taking out her phone and praying the battery was still good. A quick check showed she had one bar left. She flipped to photos, and then called up the one she’d taken of Mrs. Westergard.
    He was behind her now, and when she turned, she saw the look of shock on his face. “Do you recognize this woman? Is she the witch?”
    “No.” The color had drained out of his face. When he spoke, there was a hitch in his voice and she saw a tear slip from his eye. “That’s my mother.”

 
     
     
    Chapter Nine

     
    “How did you capture her in there?” He tried to grab the device from her, but she sidestepped him. Could it be possible his enticing new bedmate was the witch in disguise? Were he and his brothers not enough for her vengeance? Had she found some new way to torture the remainder of his family for how his father betrayed her?
    His stomach felt as if someone were jabbing sharp sticks into it repeatedly and his palms started to sweat. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all. To see someone from his past life brought to him in such a strange fashion was disconcerting, to say the least.
    He eyed his swords, judging which would be best to kill a witch. But Venise couldn’t be a witch, could she? She was too tempting, too beautiful to be so cruel as to torture him when he was already in Hel.
    He thought again of his swords, but before he could move toward them, reasoning soaked into him. He needed to think before he acted. Venise couldn’t be the witch. The panic she felt when they’d met had been real. And why would she come to him now, after an eternity alone?
    “Did she send you here?”
    “Yes.” She touched him lightly and sparks spread through him. “I thought she was crazy when she told me the story, and then pushed me toward the chair and… I think she’s expecting others, too.”
    She’d paused, as if an idea had just occurred to her. “What if she’s tried all these years to free you and your brothers? What if she’s finally discovered a way out?”
    “By sending you here?” He licked his lips, resisting the urge to kiss her. The way she looked at him made him lose control of his senses and think only with his manhood. “That defeats the purpose, don’t you think? If she has power now, and had the ability to send you here, why didn’t she just take me out instead?”
    She put the object she held into his hand and it made a beeping noise. He stared at the image of the woman who had given him life.