Cursed

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Ian Callahan panted through the rage gripping him. Something had caught his attention. He closed his eyes, blocking out the view of the rock-carved walls of his cell, and listened. The sound of a heartbeat reached his ears. It raced. So did his. Excitement fed his heart’s rapid cadence. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything beyond the wrath consuming him in days, weeks maybe. He’d lost track of how long he’d been chained spread-eagle to his bed.

He sucked in a deep breath, desperate to hold on to the awareness the person’s presence offered. The rich scent of vanilla drugged him. He moaned, or tried to, at the very least, but his roughened voice garbled the sound. The feeling behind it remained the same. He recognized the fragrance. It was her.

His dream lover.

She’d returned in his worst hour to tempt him. Arouse him. Make him beg.

The brown-eyed minx had ruined him. In all the years she’d visited him, she never fulfilled her wicked promises. Never gave him relief. She always disappeared before he could explode. She’d made him question his sanity and his sexuality. A growl crawled up his throat, even as blood rushed south, thickening his dick. It tented his shorts.

He groaned. His cock was so damn hard. Thinking about her always aroused him. Chained to the bed, he couldn’t even jerk off. He yanked on the chains and snarled.

Her gasp carried over his angry sounds.

She watched him.

Did she want him too? He waited for the door to open, for her to come to him. Seconds passed with only her quickened heartbeat betraying her interest. He dragged in more vanilla-scented air but couldn’t pick up on her arousal. She wasn’t close enough, and his Huntsman’s sense of smell confused him more often than not. It was too new, much like the emotion that had landed him in Hell.

“Angel?” He didn’t care how she’d teased him before, or if she continued to do so. He needed her. “Come to me.”

He held his breath.

The clunk of boots answered him, each thump fading in volume.

“No! Don’t leave me.”

But she did. She abandoned him. Again.

“Forsaken, always forsaken.”

Her love, her passion, her soul—it belonged to him. How? Why? He didn’t know. The truth remained. She was his heaven, the only one a bastard like him would ever find, yet he feared she’d always remain just out of reach.He roared his frustration and gave himself over to the rage consuming him.