Left To Burn: The Heiress's Ruthless Comeback

Avah moved with extreme care. She gently laid the sleeping Leo down against the soft pillows and pulled the thick cashmere blanket up to his chin.

She leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the little boy's smooth forehead.

Standing a few feet away, Atticus watched this display of pure maternal warmth. He didn't miss a single detail.

A dark, aggressive tide surged in Atticus's deep blue eyes. The possessiveness in his gaze was so heavy it felt like it could swallow her whole.

Avah straightened her back. She turned to face Atticus, desperately trying to keep her voice steady and calm.

She pointed a trembling finger at the burn scar on his arm. "Thank you. For saving my life in that fire."

Atticus didn't say a word. He simply took a slow, deliberate step toward her. Then another.

His massive frame blocked out the light from the overhead lamp, casting a large, dark shadow that completely engulfed Avah.

Avah instinctively took a step back, but her shoulders immediately hit the cold, hard wall. She was trapped.

Atticus raised his left arm-the one with the burn scar-and slammed his palm flat against the wall, right next to her ear.

He leaned down. The physical distance between them vanished. Avah could feel the scorching heat of his breath fanning across her cheeks.

"I don't want your verbal gratitude," Atticus said. His voice was a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

Avah swallowed hard, her throat dry. "What kind of compensation do you want? I... I have nothing right now."

A low, dark chuckle vibrated deep in Atticus's chest. He lifted his right hand and gently hooked a stray curl of her hair around his finger.

He stared directly into her eyes. "I only want you."

The blunt, violently direct confession exploded in Avah's ears like a bomb.

Her eyes widened in absolute shock. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. She couldn't comprehend the logic of this dangerous man.

Avah brought her hands up and pushed hard against his solid chest. "We met less than twenty-four hours ago. You're insane."

Atticus didn't budge an inch. He easily caught her wrists in one hand and pressed her palm flat against his own chest, right over his racing heart.

"Time means absolutely nothing to a hunter," Atticus stated, his tone dripping with absolute certainty.

He didn't sugarcoat his intentions. "Leo needs a mother. And I need a woman who actually holds my interest. You are mine now."

Avah felt a hot flash of anger burn through her veins. He was treating marriage and emotion like a corporate acquisition.

"I am not a product you can just buy off a shelf," Avah snapped coldly. "And I will never be a surrogate mother for your convenience."

Atticus's eyes darkened dangerously. He released her wrist and slowly trailed his fingers down the sensitive skin of her neck, making her body tremble involuntarily.

"Don't rush to reject me, Avah," he warned, his voice dropping an octave. "The prey I set my sights on never escapes."

He was officially declaring war on her independence. He was going to take over her life.

Avah violently jerked her head to the side, breaking contact with his fingers. A fierce, unbroken fire blazed in her eyes.

They stood locked in a silent standoff in the dim room. The air between them crackled with explosive sexual tension and the heavy scent of gunpowder.