18
Karma
I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare for impact. I crash into something hard. Solid. The shock smashes through my system. I groan. This is not going to be pretty. Am I going to look like one of those people who jump from a height and ends up splattered over the sidewalk? Not that I have seen any in real life, thank God… But I have seen enough movies to know it’s a gruesome sight.
The ground under me moves… Huh? I snap my eyes open, stare down into blazing blue eyes. Gone is the coldness, the remote look he had worn when I had last seen him. This man is angry…livid with the kind of rage that vibrates off of him and slams into my chest.
"You jumped." he growls, "you fucking jumped."
"It was only from the second story, besides I…I didn’t have a choice."
Debris rains down on us and Michael steps aside, his movement so graceful I can only blink as he stares up. I don’t take my gaze off of his beautiful face as he growls, "Who the fuck is up there?"
"One of the men who kidnapped me."
His features harden. All emotion drains from his face. His gaze narrows as he walks back a few paces.
"Wh…what are you doing?"
He merely heaves me over his shoulder like I am a sack of potatoes.
"What the fuck?" I yell as I stare at his perfectly hard backside. My hair streams down about my ears and down to cover his gorgeous rear. I sense him move, then hear a shot, and the ground seems to shudder. "Fuck." I close my eyes as a trembling grips me, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Footsteps approach us, then Michael snaps, "Make sure you kill every lastfiglio di puttanainside the house."
"Will do," a voice replies.
Seb? Is it one of his other brothers. Michael’s body moves, then he lowers me down and back into his arms. I turn my face into his chest, breathe in his dark, edgy essence, fill my lungs with his scent, and burrow into him. His grip tightens around me.
His voice rumbles above me and the vibrations resonate up his chest, sink into my blood. His voice fades in and out as I begin to drift.
"Set fire…send a message…taking her home."
He turns and walks away, as the sound of gunshots reaches me, then wanes as he moves further away. His grip tightens around me, then he brushes his lips over my hair. "I need to lower you to the ground so I can open the car door," he murmurs.
"No," I grip the front of his shirt, "no, no, no."
"Shh!" He presses a kiss to my forehead, "You’re safe with me."
Tears fill my eyes and run down my cheeks. How the hell am I ever going to feel safe after what happened? After I was kidnapped, twice, in quick succession, in such a short time? And to think, my once kidnapper is the only person in whose arms I now feel safe. I am such a bloody mess.
"Don’t cry," his voice catches, "please don’t cry, Beauty."
Of course, that only makes me sob harder.
He walks around the car, then bends and manages to open the door on the driver’s side. He slides inside, shuts the door behind him as I cling to him. Gah, shrinking violet, I am not. But right now, if I let go of him… What if someone else tries to take me away? What if he decides, again, that he doesn’t want me?
Fuck, I am conforming to every damn stereotype of a damsel in distress that I hate. My throat closes and another wave of trembling grips me. My teeth chatter and my bones feel too brittle for my body. I draw up my legs, try to conserve what warmth I have left in my body.
He wraps his arms around me, plasters me to his chest, then lowers his head to kiss the skin between my eyebrows, my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my mouth. I moan, part my lips, and he sweeps in. He dances his tongue across mine, closes his mouth over mine in a deep, draining kiss that seems to suck every last thought from my head. His chest heaves, his breath grows shallow, a hardness digs into my side, and when he finally breaks the kiss, I can’t think anymore. Maybe that was the point. When he lowers me onto the seat next to his, I don’t protest.
He yanks on the safety belt, snaps it into place. Snatches up a bottle of water from the holder between the seats and hands it over to me. I gulp down the water, then close the bottle and hand it over to him. He tosses it back in the holder then reaches over to grab my hand. He places it on his thigh. The strength in that thick, hard column sinks into my blood. A warmth steals up my arm, fills my chest. My head throbs and I lean back into the seat, as he sets the vehicle in motion.
How did I put myself in this position? Since when do I need a man to take care of me? I have navigated life on my own terms since a very young age, yet a few weeks with this guy, and I am dependent on him for my security. When he’s the one who kidnapped me in the first place. Since when has my kidnapper become my protector?
"How—" My voice cracks and I clear my throat. "How did you know where to find me?"
"Someone saw you being taken. He was bragging about it at Venom. When Seb heard it, he realized that he was talking about you."