“Lara?” I say softly, taking a step toward her.
She jumps and stretches her back toward me, but her movements are wrong. She seems fuzzy, drugged out somehow, and her neck is red like someone tried to strangle her.
I go to her and lift the mask off her eyes. “What are you doing? Why are you kneeling here?”
Her eyes widen and she reaches for me. “You’re here!”
“What are you doing?” My hands are on her upper arms, and I attempt to lift her to her feet.
She struggles against me, raising her hands to slap mine away. “I have to do what he says… You have to go before he comes back.”
“Who?” I look all around.
We’re in an elaborate bedroom with mirrors on all the walls. A narrow fireplace is across from a single bed, and a red divan sits in the corner waiting. It’s a boudoir.
“Are you…” I can’t even say the words. “Why are you doing this? What’s happening?”
“Give me the mask.” She holds out her hand, but I swing the piece of silk behind my back.
Her chin trembles and she looks down at her lap. I wait, doing my best to swallow the pain in my throat, doing my best to keep breathing.
I’m on my feet, this time, pulling her up by the waist with me. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“It’s too late,” she cries.
The words pull me up short. “What?”
She goes limp in my arms. “I thought I could keep her safe. I thought I could get her out of here, but it’s too late now.”
I’ve never cared about money, but for the first time in my life I’m confronted by what a necessary evil it is.
She reaches up and touches my face. “Sweet Mark. You want to help me?”
“More than anything,” I say with all the conviction roiling my stomach.
A bitter smile crosses her face, and her eyes are full of so much sadness, it breaks my heart. “Then go.”
“No,” I say desperately. “I’m getting you out of here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Thick lashes lower over dark eyes, and she shakes her head. “No one can save us now.”
Pain flashes in my stomach. I’m ready to argue I can save her, and I will, when she rises onto her toes and places her parted lips against mine. Her cool hand cups my cheek, and her tongue touches mine.
It’s a match to the desperate heat inside me. I grasp her body, pulling her closer. A noise comes from her throat as I consume her mouth, pulling her lips with mine, sliding my tongue to hers, stoking the flames higher with each pass.
My arms are around her, and I’m momentarily distracted by how she melts into me, gripping my shoulder with her free hand. Mine moves up her back into her hair. My fingers curl in her silky locks, and my cock stiffens in my jeans.
“Mark,” she gasps, breaking her lips away, but I can’t stop. I chase her mouth, covering it again with mine, drinking from her like a fountain in the desert. I want to take her away from here and keep her safe… I want to make love to her.
“You’re coming with me,” I whisper against her ear, overwhelmed by the passion coursing through my body. “You’ll stay with me. You’ll be mine, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
My hand travels down the curve of her ass, and her fingers tighten on my shirt. “I want to go with you,” she says in a voice that nearly slays me.
Stepping back, I’m ready to drag her to the nearest exit, leave this place, and never look back. I imagine days in the sun, a little white house with a picket fence and children playing in the yard. I imagine every corny thing a man ever imagines about the girl of his dreams when an iron hand slams down on my shoulder. I’m gripped in a vise-like metal claw, and our moment is shattered to little tiny pieces.
“Who the fuck are you?” A wolfish voice snarls loudly behind us.
I’m jerked around so fast, my grip on Lara slips. I reach for her again when a fist blasts pain through my entire face. White fills my eyes, and when I manage to shake the confusion away, I realize I’m on all fours on the floor.