Cold steel handcuffs chafed her wrists and she coughed up dust balls with every inhalation. She cringed at her once white T-shirt, covered in grime from the linoleum floor. Dropping her forehead to the floor, she wished she’d had the guts to shoot him back at her apartment when she had had the chance. Now it was too late. She had missed her chance, and now it appeared he would carry out his threat and kill her.

Heavy footsteps signaled Gideon’s return from the bathroom. Craning her neck, she readied her glare. He came into view, dabbing what appeared to be wet toilet paper on the nasty gash above his eyebrow.

Her nostrils quivered as a warm coppery scent assailed her. Her mouth watered and a strange sensation, much like desire, spiraled through her as her gaze narrowed on the dark crimson trickling slowly from the gash on his forehead.

“Hurt much?” She struggled for a bland tone.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, his shoulder muscles rippling against the thin cotton of his T-shirt. “Probably needs stitches.”

“Good,” she replied, unable to suppress her anger.

He scowled, tossed the wad of toilet paper onto the table still holding the weight of several bags of groceries, and planted both hands on lean hips. “Comfortable?”

“No.” She jiggled the cuffs for emphasis.

“Good,” he returned, tit for tat.

“Look, these are hurting my wrists—”

“Then stop tugging,” he advised, looming over her. From her prone position, she felt like an ant at his feet.

Claire couldn’t help pressing herself deeper into the floor. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.” Her lips quivered despite the brave words.

“There are worse things than death,” he replied enigmatically.

She went still, trying to imagine what he could possibly be implying. Her imaginings made her blood run cold. Did he intend to torture her first?

“Get that look off your face. I’m not going to kill you.” His soft sigh sounded impatient to her ears and Claire wasn’t too sure if his impatience was directed at her or himself.

She eyed him suspiciously, unconvinced. “Then how about taking these off? You can’t keep me cuffed to the stove forever.”

“You’re coming into your strength.” He shook his head as if this were a great shame and pointed at the wound above his eyebrow. “You nearly knocked me out. I can’t trust you. At least not until you’re convinced—”

“I’m not strong. Really.” Claire beat her head on the gritty linoleum, no longer caring how dirty the floor was. “I was afraid. It was just an adrenaline rush.”

He snorted in clear disagreement. “I’m out of options. There’s only one thing left to do.”

The hair at the back of her neck prickled. She didn’t like the sound of that. Lifting her head, she watched warily as he moved back into the bathroom, out of view.