Tremors Read online

  Chapter 5

  Fredrik carried a groggy Marie from the bathing chamber into his bedroom through a wide corridor that joined the two spaces. Candles lit in wall sconces flicked about the room, providing a dull glow.

  Sitting her on the edge of the bed, he undid the topknot she had wound her hair into and let it flow all about her. “So beautiful,” he said possessively, his eyes traveling the length of her. “So very beautiful.”

  Reaching for and grabbing the flesh of a thigh in either hand, he slowly opened her legs until her glistening labia was on prominent display. His murmured words of appreciation caused her body to respond and desire to reclaim her senses.

  Marie sucked in her breath as she shoved at his hands in a vain attempt to thwart him. “Fredrik,” she said smokily, her voice husky from sleep and desire, “this is not a good idea. In fact, it’s a very bad one.”

  “You want me. I want you.” He rubbed her clit in slow circles with the pad of his thumb, his erection growing as he felt her tremble for him. “And I’m not letting you go.”

  Final. Definitive.

  “But Fredrik—oomph!”

  Marie’s eyes widened as she was flung backwards onto the bed. Her buttocks were still at the edge, her thighs spread wide, her clit and labia on display. The black silk sheets beneath her felt cool and inviting, a contrast against her fevered flesh. “Fredrik, I—oh.”

  His mouth came down then, covering her entire center. On his knees before her at the edge of the bed, he gripped both thighs and pressed them apart as far as they would comfortably budge.

  Apparently he was done with words, done with trying to coax her into submission verbally. Instead he would do it with sensation…with tongue and lips, sucking and slurping sounds, guttural sounds of pleasure erupting from the back of his throat as he drank of her.

  “Oh god.” His tongue curled around her clit, causing Marie to throw her head back on a moan. “Yes…please.”

  Bringing the bud between his teeth, he went in for the kill, sucking vigorously on her clit, wanting her to climax violently for him…because of him.

  The pleasure she felt was so powerful it was painful. Knots of arousal formed in her belly, clutching her womb.

  And then he stopped.

  Marie’s eyes flicked open and widened. She took a deep breath and looked down at him from between her legs.

  Raising his head slowly from between her thighs, Fredrik sought out Marie’s gaze and held it. His breathing was harsh, his control hanging on by a thread. Light from a waning candle flicked once across his face, illuminating the ice of his eyes, before snuffing out completely.

  “Yes or no?” he asked, his nostrils flaring. “Do you want me? Despite…everything.” He reached out and tweaked one of her hardened nipples. “Yes or no?” he murmured.

  Marie gasped for breath, her entire body on fire. He had been right all along, of course. He wouldn’t have to rape her to take her. She’d give him her body willingly and they both knew it. This was just his arrogant way of making the distinction clear.

  Rather than answering him with words, Marie draped her thighs around his neck, twined a foot around the back of his head, and lowered his face back down to her labia. She moaned when his lips and tongue found her clit once more, working her back up toward a fevered pitch in scarce moments. “Oh yes.”

  Fredrik groaned, his erection hard as steel against his stomach. He suckled from her clit in hard movements, not stopping, never relenting, keeping the pressure firm and torturously pleasurous, even as her hips began to thrash about and her moaning intensified. “Mmmm,” he drawled against her flesh, vibrating its center, “mmmmmm.”

  “Fredrik.”

  She shouldn’t want him, shouldn’t crave him. She shouldn’t desire the touch of such a strange, reclusive man.

  “Fredrik.” Twining her thighs around his neck, she lurched her hips upward, pressing her clit into his mouth as though she wanted him to devour it.

  And then she was coming. Hard. Violent. The waves of pleasure overtook her, inducing her to throw back her head and scream. Blood rushed toward her face, heating it. Tremors went off through her body, elongating her nipples to the point of broaching pain. “Oh God.”

  She had no time to contemplate the insanity of the situation, no time to second guess the invitation of her body that she’d offered to the mysterious Fredrik Sörebo, for his body was covering hers within seconds, his thick erection pressing into her, filling her wet flesh completely.

  Rolling both of them toward the middle of the bed, he never allowed their bodies to disjoin. Coming back down on top of her to cover her body with his own, he wound his arms around the back of her neck, through her hair, grasping onto it as though he owned her.

  Marie shuttered out a breath, moistening her lips as she regarded him. Raising her hips, she tangled her legs around his waist and held on wantonly. She was done with worrying, done with holding a part of herself back.

  At least for tonight. For this one night she would think of nothing but pleasure, of giving herself to this man.

  “Yes, ängel,” he gritted out as he rammed his cock into her, reaching the mouth of her womb. “Knulla mig. Fuck me.”

  The icy fire of his eyes coupled with his thickly whispered words of desire sent another tendril of arousal coursing through her body. She clutched at him with her legs, inviting him to explore her. “I want you Fredrik,” she admitted, not caring about whether or not she would regret saying those words to him come morning, “take all of me. Now.”

  Twining a thick golden tress securely about his hand, he held onto her like a possession he would never let go, groaning as he sank into her depths over and over again. “Ja, baby.” Yes, baby.

  She shifted her hips upward, meeting his thrusts as they were given to her. Her nails raked down the flesh of his back, a single red droplet of blood marring the pristine whiteness of her manicure. “Harder,” she moaned, grinding into him as he quickened the pace of his thrusting, “Fuck me harder.”

  “As you wish, ängel,” he ground out.

  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as Fredrik rewarded her enthusiasm for his lovemaking by giving her what she’d asked for. His strokes became faster and deeper as he used his free hand to nudge her legs from around his middle. Never letting go of her hair, he used his other hand to throw one of her legs over his shoulder, putting her flesh at an angle conducive to the deepest of penetrations. “Is this what you want?” he asked roughly.

  Marie moaned long and needfully, her head thrown back, her neck bared to him like an offering, as his cock slammed into her again and again. The sounds of their flesh slapping into and against each other heightened their mutual arousal.

  “I asked you if this is what you want,” Fredrik said demandingly, his jaws clenched.

  “Yes,” she groaned.

  “Hur känns min kuk I dig?” he gritted out, his muscles corded, as he pummeled into her mercilessly. “How does my cock feel inside of you?”

  When her only answer was a whimper, he slammed harder and asked her again. “Hur känns min kuk I dig?”

  “Good,” she groaned. “Oh god…so good.”

  He rewarded her answer by burrowing further, penetrating her as deeply as possible. He slammed into her for endless minutes, each thrust bringing her closer to completion.

  And then she was contracting around him, her flesh milking his as her tremors began and she gave herself up to another violent climax in his arms. “Fredrik…oh god Fredrik.”

  “Yes, ängel,” he shouted out hoarsely, his own orgasm overpowering him, “yes.”

  They came together, their peak harsh and unrelenting, binding their flesh, bonding their souls. There was pleasure like this with no other. Not once. Not ever. And they both knew it.

  Minutes later, they drifted off to sleep in each other’s embrace. The last coherent thought Marie entertained that night revolved around a vague flickering of awareness that her hair was still wound about Fredrik�
�s hand.

  He wanted to keep her. He would never let her go.

  And then unconsciousness overtook her and she knew no more.

  Chapter 6

  “What are you saying to me?” Marie’s eyes widened as she whispered the question to the older woman.

  “I’m saying he’s a monster,” Helena Anders replied tonelessly, her lifeless obsidian eyes looking at Marie but not seeing her.

  Marie reached out and took the older woman’s hand in her own. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain the stranger wasn’t watching them before she turned back to Helena. “What did he do?” she breathed out.

  No response.

  She glanced back over her shoulder. He would return any moment. His attention would be diverted from her for only a minute or so longer. She needed to know what had become of…

  “Sophie was a good girl,” Helena said in hushed tones.

  Marie whipped her head back around to regard her. The woman’s eyes were like black glass. Shark’s eyes. Doll’s eyes. So dead and lifeless. Her lips were puckered, bloodless. Her hair straight and black as sackcloth. Her skin a pasty white.

  “She didn’t deserve it,” Helena droned on.

  “Didn’t deserve what?”

  Silence.

  Marie gritted her teeth together. Time was running out. He would come back. She didn’t want him to know they’d been speaking of him. He would come back. And he would know. Somehow he would know...

  Marie’s head tossed back and forth on the black silk pillow. Beads of perspiration formed on her brow. “Tell me,” she muttered in her sleep. “Tell me what he did.”

  “He killed her.” Helena’s parched lips turned upward, forming a cruel slash of a smile. “Raped her and murdered her. Cut her into pieces and threw her to the dogs.”

  “Oh my god.” Marie’s hand left the old woman’s and pressed against the back of her mouth. Her stomach felt queasy, her knees too weak to stand. “I’m so sorry, Helena,” she whispered, “so very sorry.”

  “She was a good girl,” Helena repeated as if she hadn’t heard her. “Sophie was a good girl.”

  Marie was about to respond when the old woman’s eyes lit up and bore into hers, the first sign Marie had seen all evening that intelligence and comprehension lurked somewhere in the back of Helena Anders’ mind. “He’ll do the same to you,” she stated tonelessly, as if they were discussing what they’d had for breakfast. “If you allow him near you, the same will become of you.”

  Marie glanced back over her shoulder. She didn’t see him yet, but she knew he was coming. She could sense it, feel him drawing closer. She turned back toward the old woman to tell her never to repeat what they had spoken of.

  “She was a good girl,” Helena said, her eyes losing their luster once more. Black ice. They looked so much like black ice.

  Marie swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. “Yes,” she murmured, “poor…”

  “…Sophie,” Marie mumbled in her sleep, perspiration forming between her breasts. “Poor Sophie.”

  * * * * *

  A candle was snuffed out from across the room, a pair of icy blue eyes watching everything.

  Fredrik strode the length of the room and resumed his place in the bed next to Marie. Wiping the droplets of sweat from her face and breasts, he cradled her into his arms and held tightly.

  For ten years he had existed in a void, alone, no light to penetrate the darkness. He had sought out whores when his physical needs had become great, but had otherwise remained alone.

  Perhaps…perhaps he had become that very thing Helena said he was. Maybe he was a monster.

  Fredrik tightened his hold on Marie, craning his neck to place a soft kiss atop her head. “I’m sorry, ängel,” he murmured against her temple, “but I won’t let you leave me. Not even for a moment.”

  Chapter 7

  “Where are my clothes?”

  Marie clutched the black silk sheet to her breasts, protecting herself from Fredrik’s gaze. She worried her lip as she watched him watch her, wondering what was going through his mind, wondering what he would do or say.

  What she had done last night was wrong. Incredibly, stupidly wrong. Her father, she thought perversely, her father probably wouldn’t be surprised if he found out she was in such a tenuous position…he’d just consider it further proof that she was an idiot, a thoughtless doll in need of a man to take care of her.

  Of course, she reminded herself, her father would probably never find out what had become of her. No one would for that matter. The only people that might realize she was absent were the inn owners, and even they would probably just chalk her disappearance up to another flighty American deciding to leave and venture onward to bluer skies.

  She had to face the reality of the situation. She was as good as dead if she didn’t find a way to escape the man with the haunted eyes. But she would find a way to leave him.

  Her father might believe her to be a shrinking violet, but Marie knew better. Deep down inside she was a fighter, a fighter that was tired of not fighting back. She’d show them all, she vowed to herself. She would make it out of here alive and she would show them all.

  “I burned them.”

  Marie’s eyes widened in shock. She had clearly not been expecting to hear that. She was surprised into speechlessness for a pregnant moment. “You burned my clothes?” she mouthed dumbly, not believing she’d heard him correctly.

  “Yes,” Fredrik repeated, stalking toward where she sat on the bed, “I burned them.”

  She blinked a few times in rapid succession as she considered what this did to her escape plans. Running about naked in the pitch dark woods had definitely not been a part of them. Could this damn man foretell all of her notions without her even uttering them?

  “I don’t believe this,” Marie stated incredulously, her voice rising in decibel as her anger did. “Why in the hell would you burn my clothes?”

  Fredrik sat on the edge of the bed and lifted a sardonic brow. “So you can’t leave me,” he said simply.

  Good god. The man really could predict the future. Marie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she clutched the silk sheet tighter with one hand while using the other to wave animatedly toward her captor. “What exactly am I supposed to wear?”

  The other eyebrow came up to meet the first. “Nothing, ängel,” he softly replied.

  Marie’s body had an immediate reaction to what he’d said and the way he’d said it. She squelched the traitorous feeling, knowing it was precisely that reaction that had gotten her into this mess to begin with. There would be no repeat performances of last night.

  Her chin went up a notch. “I demand to be given some clothes,” she gritted out.

  “No.”

  “No?” she shrieked. “No?!” Marie’s lips attempted to form words, but no sounds came out.

  Fredrik took advantage of the moment, pulling the sheet away from her while she was still too shocked to retaliate. The expensive bolt of black silk fell to the floor, discarded and forgotten. “That is correct, ängel. No.”

  Scooting closer to her on the bed, he reached out and lifted one of her breasts into the palm of his hand. His thumb swept over the nipple, causing Marie to suck in her breath.

  “Fredrik,” she breathed out, “I don’t want—”

  “One week,” he said quietly, steely control threaded through his voice. “I ask for only one week of your time.” His gaze met hers. “If after a week you still wish to leave me, you will be free to depart this place.”

  Marie closed her eyes briefly, the images such an arrangement conjured up in her mind confusing ones. Instead of imagining violence and death as she rightly should have, she saw only pleasure and hedonism. Fredrik’s body, his touch, his kisses…his lovemaking.

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Why?” she whispered. “Why do you want me to stay for a week and then let me leave?”

  “I don’t want you to leave, Marie. You misunderstand m
e. I said I want you to stay and that when one week has gone by I would give you the option of departing.”

  Alive? She thought to herself.

  No. No. If he’d meant to kill her wouldn’t he have done so by now? Maybe. But then again…maybe not. Perhaps he liked to toy with his victims, give them hope, make them think they stood a chance of escape. Or perhaps he’d meant specifically what he’d said, no symbolic meaning intended.

  “And what will happen during this week?” Marie asked, curious despite herself.

  Fredrik was quiet for a long moment. He let go of her breast and broke eye contact. Sighing deeply, his eyes flicked about the massive bedroom.

  “I will get to know the real Marie Robb,” he at last stated. “And you will get to know the real Fredrik Sörebo.”

  Marie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she absently glanced toward the ceiling. “And the clothes?” she inquired in a monotone, not seeing how she really had a choice but to give him his week.

  “No clothes,” Fredrik answered, his eyes flicking over her body as he spoke. “I want you naked for the entire week.”

  PART II

  Chapter 8

  The chill in the air hardened Marie’s nipples into tight points. Naked, she shivered as she ambled through the estate gardens with a fully clothed Fredrik, her hand in his.

  The sun was looming straight overhead, so it wasn’t terribly cold outside, yet the shivers continued regardless. She wasn’t certain if it was the weather or the man beside her causing the reaction, but she had her guesses.

  She felt erotic, immensely turned on, though he hadn’t so much as touched her yet. There was something deliciously wicked and provocative about being totally divested of clothing while outdoors, not to mention while in the presence of a powerful man fully clothed.

  She’d been turned on all day long. She would have made love with him if he’d asked and yet he’d made no move to cover her body with his. But she knew he would…eventually. And the not knowing when, the not knowing how…that was as much an aphrodisiac as her lack of attire. She wondered if Fredrik realized that, and guessed that he probably had.