Golden's Rule by Billi Jean Page B

guys? Had he completely fooled her?
    She glanced at her phone again, hating doing it, but checking it all the same. He’d not called, only texted her a few times to say something about running flat-out busy, but for her not to leave the hunting lodge.
    Leaving the lodge was looking better and better.
    Three days. Three nights.
    He’d made love to her so thoroughly she still found small marks of his possession on her skin. A blush of colour from his hot mouth, a small bruise from his powerful hands holding her under him. All of it magical.
    Except him being gone.
    Obviously, she’d pushed too far and now he regretted it…but he’d not seemed to during all that hot, intense sex. He’d seemed out of his mind with lust, but still so tender and careful with her. His size was intimidating, lovely and mouth-watering, but still…
    The size of his cock was a mystery. The way he shied away from talking about it seemed to suggest the long, thick length wasn’t his by choice.
    But if his body wasn’t that way naturally than how? A spell? Possibly. But he was a warlock with more an enormous amount of power at his fingertips. So why not fix it?
    She turned from the window and closed the book she’d been reading on the customs of the Fay. She needed to do something. She felt caged in. Anxious.
    Leave. Never.
    Yeah, leaving seemed the best thing. Humiliation tightened her stomach. She just felt so powerless. And rejected, and oh, let’s not forget disgustingly wretched.
    Her gut rolled, the feeling making her sick. She needed fresh air. A run might be good.
    A run would solve all my problems.
    Have I always been this pathetic?
    Seizing on the idea of a run, she got ready and hit the freezing cold air outside, feeling better instantly. The snowfall from their night, and yeah, that was sappy, but true, that night would always be their night, hadn’t remained. The ground was concrete hard under her feet, though. She worked up to a good pace, her breathing steady. Had she run before? Her body seemed to flow, the urge to pace herself forgotten as the fresh air, sunshine and wonderful feeling of her own power surrounded her.
    Maybe she wasn’t pathetic.
    Maybe he was. She had power. She could feel it at her fingertips, getting closer and closer the more she worked at trying to use her gifts rather than remember her life. More, she felt capable of protecting herself. Odd, but it was there, almost a drive to do more than simply worry over her lost memory. Her memory might never come back, but her knowledge of what the Death Stalkers could do, what they were doing to harm mortals and immortals, remained. Even thinking about them made her heart race and her body prepare for battle. Torque was involved in the Immortal Council. She knew that they organised the resistance, sent out fighters to destroy the Death Stalkers when they could find them, but she didn’t feel as if she were part of that battle. Ah, Gods, it was confusing.
    She simply felt like a fighter. Maybe her muscles and body recalled what her mind couldn’t.
    She smoothly jumped over a three-foot-high fallen tree and landed perfectly on the opposite side. Power flowed through her muscles.
    Maybe she sucked at picking out men. Maybe that was her problem. Torque was amazing, but he seemed unable to grasp that she needed more than to sit and wait for her memory to return. If a blow to the head caused her memory loss, then maybe another one would bring it back.
    Laughing lightly, she stopped and admired the starry sky. The sweet scent of snow lingered on the air, tingling her nose. The winter animals were silent. The wind blew against her heated face and she felt her body ease of the tension she’d felt since—she tilted her head and gazed up above the dark outline of the trees—since she’d woken here a week before.
    Out here, she felt free. With Torque, she saw, she’d been trying to be what he wanted—what she thought he wanted, at least. A woman in need of rescue. Only