Snatched

Brenda & Zibry

Brenda could not believe she was doing this. After all the terror and uncertainty and not to mention injury, how could she be doing this? She was holding his hand. She was actually holding his hand! It had been a long time since she'd held someone's hand. Anyone's hand.

Her throat turned thick. She swallowed her tears away, surprised and frustrated. She'd always known she was lonely, but she didn't realise how sad she really was about it. Not until now. She'd always had to be strong. It was the only thing that got her through the day.

He looked so kind. And that was what made it hard. Those eyes—once so terrifying, now didn't seem so scary anymore. Despite their colour, despite their cat-like predatory look, they were the softest eyes she'd ever seen in a man. The way they were looking at her made her want to melt into his arms.

She shook herself. This wasn't right. None of this was right. He'd kidnapped her! How could she think of it? How could she trust him? And yet, she didn't remove her hand. It was almost as though she couldn't. Like her own body was acting against her will.

They were sitting on the edge of the bed, turned towards each other, so close their knees were pressed up against each other. She liked that too. She liked it too much. They'd been quiet for a long time. They'd worked out each other's names, which was exciting. Zibry. Zibry. It somehow fit how he looked.

He was like no man she'd ever imagined she'd ever be with. She always imagined a man who looked more like her. Most of the men she'd encountered did look like her. She'd never really realised how pale she was until now. Her hand was so white—and small—in his black one. He wasn't as clean cut as she'd imagined either, looking more rugged than she was used to, his stubble a little too thick, his hair much too wild. Dreads! His eyebrows thick and heavy. She could see the same wildness in his eyes too—that thirst for something more.

Brenda looked into his eyes, then away again. She bit her lip as he began stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. What was she supposed to do? The last thing she wanted was to pull away, and yet she couldn't make herself do anything more either. The thought of being closer made her tremble.

In the end it was him who made the next move. And it was shocking and terrifying and thrilling all at once. He leaned in to kiss her, his lips barely brushing against hers, before she jerked back with a yelp. Her instinct was to pull her hand away but he held on firmly.

'I'm—I'm not ready,' she gasped. 'For that.' She shook her head so he understood what she meant.

He was frowning, a crease between his thick eyebrows. Brenda waited, a nasty dread rising in her throat. He could easily take what he wanted. He'd already done it once by kidnapping her from her home. What was to stop him from doing it a second time? Those eyes, so soft now, could easily change. She had little doubt.

'What are you going to do?' Her heart was fluttering in her chest. She remembered her cold bed back home and how she often dreamed of an encounter like this. Her hips were aching. How can one half of her body be so out of tune with the other?

Finally, he said something. Something soft and gentle in his deep, masculine voice that eased the worst of Brenda's fears. Releasing her hand, he stood. Understanding that she should do the same, Brenda stood beside him. She stepped back as he pulled down the covers, her heart doing backflips.

Zibry quickly shook his head at the look on her face. He raised his palms before kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed, fully dressed. He spoke something again, then rolled away to face the other direction. Sleep. Was that what he was really trying to tell her? Did he just want her to sleep?

Brenda didn't move. If he wanted to mistreat her, he could easily do so without having her voluntarily enter the bed beside him. She stared at his broad back. She hadn't shared a bed in over five years. She was feeling tired.