“Come to me, my little dove.” His gaze held hers, she swallowed down hard.

Her gaze kept shifting from him; to the two men standing behind the man he was torturing. Her legs wobbled, but fear forced her to take a step forward.

Her hands gripped the hem of the lacy night wear, while she approached him carefully.

Almost at where he sat, his hand stretched out and he pulled her toward him. He yanked her onto his lap with a sharp motion, her chest rose as she flinched.

He held her right ...