Free Spun by Emma Barron

anger. She was feisty, but Werner didn’t see that as a problem. On the contrary, he would thoroughly enjoy taming her.
    He imagined what it would be like when he finally tasted her. He planned to let the anticipation build before he did so, as it always made his conquests that much sweeter. He pictured her beneath him, her long, white limbs pinned to the bed, laid bare in all her unspoiled, virginal beauty. Would she fight him? Or would she whimper and beg? Werner hoped it would be a little bit of both.
    He licked his lips and adjusted the front of his trousers. Yes, he was very much going to enjoy taming her.

Chapter 5
    Tillz spent most of the day skulking around the grounds of the manor, trying to keep an eye on Anja while avoiding detection. He watched from behind a disused carriage as Werner entered the cottage, Roulf trailing behind him, carrying jars of metal. Tillz was anxious as he waited for the men to leave once again. Every fiber of every muscle was poised to run inside and rescue Anja should it appear that Werner meant her the slightest harm. Thankfully, Werner and Roulf spent no more than ten minutes in the cottage, and Tillz did not have to reveal his presence.
    Still, it made Tillz nervous that Anja was alone, vulnerable. Werner had left her alone—for now—but there was no guarantee his mood wouldn’t change sometime before the following morning. Tillz badly wanted to enter the cottage to see for himself that Anja was unharmed, but he was kept at bay by the random servants, groomsmen, and gardeners who milled about the grounds as they carried out their day’s work. He simply could not get inside without being detected and putting them both at risk.
    He cursed silently to himself. He should have never agreed to let her stay behind. While at the time he had convinced himself Anja’s ridiculous plan made perfect sense, he now realized he had only agreed to it out of his own selfishness. He wanted to be near Anja, and her current predicament gave him an excuse for access to her. If he had freed her, she would have no further need of him. While he may have seen her again around the village, he would never again be able to talk to her, touch her, never hear her laugh as he gently teased her, nor experience the exquisite torture of bedding her.
    So he had left her there.
    Alone in the cottage. At Werner’s mercy.
    Damn him.
    He didn’t know what he would do if any harm came to her. The mere thought of it filled him with a pulsing fury, made his blood pump hotly and every muscle clench in preparation for exacting bloody vengeance. He wondered vaguely at his reaction. While he noticed every detail about others, knew their tastes and habits and was adept at discerning their characters and motivations, he rarely turned that critical perceptiveness inward to himself. He was unaccustomed to questioning his own response to another person. Hell, he was unaccustomed to feeling any kind of response to another person. Yet he had felt strongly for Anja from the first time he saw her in the village, and it—this desire, this attraction, this inexplicable something —was only growing stronger and more ungoverned the more he was with her, until he feared it would overtake him completely.
    He wanted her so intensely it scared him, and he could no longer ignore it, though he had been trying mightily. It wasn’t just the physical—though God knew the sight of her made him harden, made him pulse with a fierce desire he could barely control. It had almost killed him last night when he had touched her, tasted her, driven her wild with pleasure and then had to stop before it went any further. He had wanted to take her then so badly it made him shake with the need of it. He had wanted to plunge himself into her again and again until he drove them both off the cliff of release, until this mad wanting was finally slaked. But he could not do that to her, couldn’t dishonor her in such a manner just so he could fulfill his