Where Soft Light Shines Darkness Fades From Tired Hearts by Evan Holt Crane 423
Third Person’s POV
Seeing Cassian’s face closing in, Trista knew he was going for a kiss. She instinctively put her hands up to shove him away.
But Cassian grabbed her hands and forced them against his chest. Through his shirt, his heart was hammering with a violent, erratic rhythm that vibrated against her palms.
He leaned down, his predatory energy heavy as he kissed her forehead. “Be good,” he whispered.
Before she could react, he swept her off her feet.
Trista let out a startled gasp. The second her feet left the ground, a wave of pure panic hit her.
Seeing him march toward the helicopter, she lost it, struggling to slide out of his arms. Cassian didn’t even slow down; he just hoisted her up and threw her over his shoulder.
Trista’s head rushed with blood as she pounded on his back, grabbing at his suit jacket. “Cassian, you psycho! Put me down!”
Cassian took massive, frantic strides, like he was being hunted by something far worse than a few guards. “You like Manwaring’s kid so much? Well, he belongs to someone else. Since you’re so desperate for a baby, we’ll just have one of our own–a real Ironthorn heir!”
The words hit Trista like a physical blow, leaving her cold. “Cassian, give it up! You and I are never happening again!”
Cassian didn’t say a word. He just kept walking and boarded the chopper.
Humphrey ran up and leaned into Cassian’s ear. “Alpha Cassian, the security team from Howard is almost at the gates.”
Trista’s heart jumped.
As she was being hauled up, she’d spotted Fred’s car. Backup was finally here.
“Cassian! Your grandfather is here! Let me go!” she screamed, trying to buy herself even a single minute of time.
But Cassian’s response was cold and final, dripping with the madness of someone who had completely checked out. “Nobody gets through those gates! If they try to force their way in, shoot to kill!”
It was nearly noon when Trista finally woke up.
Looking around the bedroom, her mind went blank for a second before the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
This was the private island where they’d spent their honeymoon.
She tried to get out of bed, but the room started spinning so hard she had to collapse back onto the
0:31 am PDX
8
pillows.
Closing her eyes, the memories of the night before came back in jagged flashes.
Between the rage, the fear, and her low blood sugar, she’d blacked out on the helicopter.
She had a fuzzy memory of Cassian’s face right before she went under–those hard, feral eyes had been shimmering with a strange, heartbroken pain.
But even then, he’d held onto her like a trophy, refusing to let his prey go.
She patted her pockets. Nothing. No phone, no way out.
Her plan to play the submissive mate and lure him back to safety had been completely torched by his paranoid obsession.
The door suddenly unlocked.
Trista opened her eyes, her gaze as flat and dead as a stagnant pond.
Cassian walked in. He’d ditched the stifling suit and was just wearing a rumpled white shirt, the collar open to reveal the pale skin of his chest.
He looked like a wreck–a lone wolf who had lost his way in a blizzard and decided to lock himself in a cage to survive.
He walked to the bedside, his movements so careful it was like he was afraid of shattering the air.
He leaned over her, his fingertips trembling slightly as he tried to brush a stray hair from her face.
“You’re awake? How do you feel? Does your stomach hurt, or… did you hit your head earlier?”
Trista coldly turned her head away, dodging his touch.
The sudden “tender” act made her feel physically sick.
Cassian’s hand froze in mid–air. A flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but he buried it instantly, replacing it with
a pathetic, pleading tone. “I made you something to eat. Do you want me to carry you downstairs, or… should I just bring it up here?”
Trista struggled to sit up, bracing herself against the headboard.
She looked him dead in the eye, her gaze devoid of any warmth. “Cassian, save the fake ‘nice guy‘ act. From the second you made that blueberry cake for Samantha and paraded her in front of the whole pack, everything you touch–even a glass of water–makes me want to gag.”
Cassian winced as a sharp cramp hit his stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
He fought to suppress the rage that came with being rejected so totally. After a long silence, his voice came out a jagged rasp. “So, the act is over? You’re done pretending you forgave me?”
Trista let out a sharp, dry laugh. “You kidnapped me and brought me to the middle of the ocean. What other reason is there besides holding me hostage?”
10:31 am PDX
Cassian reached out and tucked the blanket around her legs, his movements so natural it was as if they’d never broken up. “There are no distractions here. No others. We just need to cool off and talk about our future.”
“Cassian, we don’t have a future. We just have a trashy past.” She shoved his hand away, her voice final. “I want to go home. Now.”
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Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.