Page 8 of Alaric's Hidden Gem

She put her hand into mine, and I pulled her up before leading her inside the house. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips when I heard her heart beat erratically. I had a feeling it would increase again when she saw my playroom. She was fed and watered and would be able to take what was coming to her.

Chapter 8

Gemma

It was difficult to look around while being dragged through the house. I couldn't tell how many levels it had, but it looked as if it was built on a hill or a cliff because the views were stunning. I tried tugging my hand away when he led me down some stairs.

“You don't want to say no to me again, Gemma,” he snapped at me impatiently.

If what he said was true, I couldn't harm him, and I was on an island, so I couldn't escape. I’d been to Greece but to one of the larger islands. I knew there were plenty of smaller islands scattered around.

When we reached the bottom of the white marble stairs, I paused at the sight. There was all painted black woodwork which made it look frightening, and the marble beneath my bare feet was dark grey in colour. There was a morbid-looking chandelier lighting the dark hallway, but I was afraid of the bright red-coloured door. Or, more accurately, what was behind it.

“Is this going to be some kind of devil-worshipping sacrificial ritual because I have to say I'm not digging it.”

His throaty chuckle echoed in the dark hallway.

“Do all humans have such a vibrant imagination?”

“It’s called self-preservation,” I muttered as he opened the door.

I tried to peer around him, but I didn't get a chance because he pulled me into the room.

“What the—” I began to say, but my words trailed off because I couldn't believe what I saw.

He had a sex dungeon. It had similar elegant black woodwork and was dotted with black and red throughout the room. The far end of the room had a giant bed with red bed covers dotted with some white and black pillows on it. The bed frame matched the woodwork within the room. My eyes went towards the ceiling and its many attachments, along with another ostentatious chandelier.

“When did you last menstruate?”

His question yanked me out of my daze. I tried to think what date it was.

“Uh, I think I might be due in a couple of days, so if I do something erratic or try and kill you, it may be due to hormones,” I said because I had three-period modes. Angry, tearful or give me junk food and fuck off.

He frowned at me.

“These hormones affect humans that badly?”

“Sometimes it’s not noticeable, but sometimes it can be pretty rough.”

“It makes you ill?” he asked with genuine curiosity that surprised me.

“It can cause cramps and lower back pain for me, but not every period is the same.”

“When is your fertility period for your cycle?”

“Uh, I don't know,” I said, confused at his line of questioning. “How did you know I was English?” I asked, realising he hadn't spoken to me in French since I woke up in his fancy villa. His French and English were impeccable.

He became a blur when he moved, but he stood in front of me, pulling my chin up.

“I hacked into everything I could,” he said as his fingers curled around my throat. “You speak French like a native.”

I stood and stared into his dark eyes. The same cold, cruel and dead eyes that terrified me. I had no doubt that he could snap my neck like a twig. His palm covered my throat, and his fingers were wrapped around my neck. Yet, acknowledging every warning, my senses screamed at me. I was turned on by his touch, which made no sense.

“I can hear your heartbeat and feel your pulse,” he said, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of my neck. “Are you scared or excited?”

“Both,” I said, answering him honestly before I wondered if he had hypnotised me because that would explain my insanity. “Can you hypnotise people?”

His lips twitched before a smile tugged on one corner.