My heart is ready to pack its bags and walk right out of my body and never return with all the anxiety I’ve put it through in the last twenty-four hours. Everything’s gone from bad to worse.
I can’t give up now though.
“Rorrick, get the door.” Christian’s smooth voice is barely heard on my side, but I react just as he ordered.
I get the door.
I pull the lock and fling open the only thing that separates me from these three psychos. At the same time, something comes barreling in. A massive weight knocks the breath from my lungs as I go tumbling back. But a safe barrier wraps around me just as my back—and almost my skull—hits the hard stone floor.
Big arms cradle around my body. It’s a careful touch. Gentle. Nothing like Christian’s. Warmth covers me. Deep green eyes look down on me with surprise. The stranger is quiet and hesitant despite his enormous size. His weight is a comfortable feeling pressing, covering my frame. It’s strange how good his body feels against mine. I’m hidden beneath his massive size. I’m safe in the cocoon of his big arms.
“Sorry,” I whisper on barely a breath.
I must be the only captive in the history of kidnappings to ever apologize to my tormentor.
In that moment, I’m not calculating of it. I’m not using my looks to gain his sympathy. I’m entirely distracted by the sensation of being beneath him. I even slowly notice my palms are flat across the white button-down that covers his broad shoulders, my golden chains pressing between us.
“You alrigh’?” he asks on a charming accent. And he actually means it.
He cares.
A flutter of hope rises up within me. He fucking cares. Andthatwill be their downfall.
The comfort and safety of his body against mine is ripped away in a flash of movement. A white knuckled hand grips the man’s shoulder. He’s thrown. Wind pulls at my hair from the swiftness of hostility. A dense cracking of rock breaks the quiet. His back hits the bathroom wall so hard, dust flares up in the warm candlelight. His glaring green eyes meet Christian’s, but nothing passes between the two.
Only silent understanding.
Then the prince turns toward me.
“Get up.” He doesn’t wait for me to follow the command. With that same unnatural strength, he pulls me to my feet by just my chains. It’s all a bizarre flash of movement that can’t be real. My feet don’t even touch the ground. Pain stings through my wrists so harshly, I’m sure the metal will rip right through my bones. Twists and turns of the hallway rush by. The corners jar into my shoulders with bruising force. Something solid slams against my head, and stars burst behind my eyes.
I can’t help it anymore. I can’t control my ever-careful emotions.
I scream out.
The sound of my fear crawls up the walls all around me, and I don’t even realize it when I’m tossed to a cold, glittering floor. I slide on my hands and knees. The terror tearing up my throat halts the moment my body finally stops.
The tension slumps from my body, and I just try to catch my breath.
An enormous room filled with watchful eyes surrounds me, some of them normal, some of them just glowing red dots in the shadows. Lines of bright green crawl across the floor and walls with ivy that feels out of place but somehow molded into the glittering golden lines of the tile. It’s a bit of innocent nature that seems to have accidentally woven itself into the darkest part of hell.
I bite my lip to stop the tears welling behind my lashes. I refuse to acknowledge the throbbing of my arms and temple. I sit with my head held as high as my chains will allow. I avoid the strange, watchful red eyes. I shove the fear all the way down.
But the fear I thought I knew, it’s nothing compared to the man who’s sitting on a throne just above me.
A groan of pleasure brings my attention to him.
The slamming of my heartbeat becomes painful as it races even harder within my chest. The terror inside physically hurts. My breath catches somewhere deep in my lungs, and I forget it entirely as I meet blood-red eyes. A crooked crown rests atop his bald head.
And worst of all, a naked, lifeless woman lies bloody across his lap. He lifts his bloody face from the gouging wound in her throat. Deep red eyes sparkle down at me.
“Ah, you’re just in time for my feeding, My sweet Promise.” And then, with brutal strength, sharp teeth extend, his mouth covers her blood-soaked neck, and he rips the rest of the tendons right from her throat.
Chapter 9
Rorrick
The jagged sound of her breath is all I hear as our king sloppily feeds. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t run. She’s transfixed, big innocent eyes watching every drop of blood that splatters to the clean floor.