“Knulla!” he cursed. Fuck.
For the first time since I’d been tortured, the sound and sight of blood hitting the ground didn’t make me want to vomit or pass out. I turned, shoved passed both Micah and Ella, who stood with stunned expressions on their slack-jawed faces, and walked up the staircase with my head held high. The rush of adrenaline hit me hard and I cherished my newfound empowerment. I’d wanted to do that for a really, really long time.
As I rounded the hallway and out of sight, Julian’s silky voice drifted through the house. “I don’t remember her being so feisty.”
I didn’t hear any more comments after that. In my room, I went straight to the large walk-in closet. I grabbed a backpack from the top shelf and blindly shoved clothes into it. Once I was packed, I stepped out into the main room. Eli sat on my bed with his hands clasped between his spread legs. I barely spared him a passing glance.
“Why are you packing?” he asked.
“Don’t pretend like you care.”
At my dresser, I grabbed a handful of panties, bras and silky camisole tops. My fingers brushed against a medicine bottle I hadn’t remembered stashing there. I paused, stroked the plastic and thought about popping a couple of pills.
I missed the high. The numbness.
Eli’s voice broke me out of my trance. “What crawled up your ass?”
Seriously? I spun to face him and pointed to the door. “Get out.”
He raised his bowed head and looked up at me. His amber eyes glittered with frustration. “No.”
“Suit yourself. I’ve got somewhere to be.” I shrugged out of my knit wrap and threw it to the hardwood floor. Never looking away from him, I grabbed the hem of my long-sleeved shirt and pulled it over my head. Reaching behind me, I found the hook and eyelet fastening my bra. Any second I hoped he’d get the hint and leave.
He got no such hint. Eli’s gaze consumed the swell of my breasts spilling from my lacy bra. He licked his lips, swallowed. He looked lower and took in the thin, gnarled branches of a cherry tree branch etched into my skin along my right side. Sprouting from the wood were blossoming abstract flowers in deep shades of pinks and reds. I removed the bra.
He readjusted his pants, swallowed.
“Hannah, what are you doing?” His words were low, sexy.
I bet what’s-her-name had enjoyed myriad assorted words whispered in her ear. I unzipped my faded Levi’s, shimmied them down my hips and stepped out of the denim to leave me in nothing but a pink thong. Heat filled the room from the energy of Eli’s beast.
I strolled passed him and into the closet, my goal a long black coat. It was the jacket I’d worn to my father’s funeral. I stroked the scratchy wool and fought the memories, the fragrance the thousands of flowers filling the room had given off. Mostly, I fought the pain. Before the past sucked me into a deep, dark hole, I pulled the garment from its wooden hanger and shook off the dust that had accumulated. I was shrugging into it when I walked back into the room.
Eli’s molten-hot gaze tracked my every move as I buttoned up the coat and slipped my feet into a pair of black stiletto heels that gave me an extra three inches of height.
He stood and growled, “Where in the fuck do you think you’re going?”
I met his eyes and picked up my overnight bag where I’d dropped it to the floor. “I’ve got a date.”
Hot, skin-ruffling otherness filled the room and his amber eyes flashed. He took two steps in my direction, forcing me to either scuttle back or stand there and endure the overwhelming energy pumping off him in waves. I backed up until my ass hit the dresser.
“You’re practically naked.”
He wasn’t wrong. In case I lost the nerve to do what I was about to do, I turned and reached into my dresser drawer. I withdrew the pill bottle and discreetly shoved it in my pocket.
“When did you turn into such a slut?”
His words cut through me. He was right, damn it. Now that I was sober, the truth hurt. Pain started in my belly and moved up my torso to squeeze my heart. Then the anger hit me. I spun on my heel and found Eli directly in front of me. He was close enough that I had to crane my head back in order to give him my full death glare. “What did you just say to me?”
Eli was one of few people outside of my immediate family who knew about my eidetic memory, so we were both aware I knew exactly what he’d said.
He shook his head and the fire brightening his eyes dimmed. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek in his large palm. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “This isn’t you, Hannah.”
I slapped his caress away. “And you aren’t you.”
He cupped my hip. Heat melted through the fabric of my coat and it almost felt like he was touching me skin to skin. He pulled me into his body. Before I could protest, his soft, full mouth was moving against mine. I gasped. Eli took advantage and swept his tongue inside my mouth with the same dominance he’d shown the last time he’d kissed me.
For one split second, I was tempted to give in to him. To lose myself in his arms. To unbutton my coat and guide his hand between my thighs. Maybe with Eli I’d actually like it. Maybe I’d even have an orgasm, something no one had ever given me. Then I remembered the woman and what they’d been doing less than ten minutes ago. I shoved him away and wiped my mouth, hoping to hell his tongue hadn’t been in her vagina.
“Don’t do that again.” I scooted out from between my dresser and his body. Faster than should be possible in three-inch heels I grabbed my stuff and fled. Eli didn’t follow.
I took out my phone from my purse as I exited the house via the kitchen door. I bypassed the ten missed calls I had, most from Mr. Restricted, one from my uncle Roy, and hit a familiar number. He picked up on the fifth ring, sounding out of breath.
“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he panted.
Surely Dante wouldn’t pick up if he was having sex. Right? “Um.” I fumbled for a moment and struggled to juggle the phone and the steering wheel.
His deep chuckle drifted through the phone and straight between my thighs. “I haven’t heard your sweet voice in three days and all I get is an ‘um’? You speak more than a dozen languages fluently. You can do better than that.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” I was so avoiding him. “Just getting my shit together. Are you at home?”
“Yup. You caught me in the middle of working out. I’ve got a shift at the Vault in about three hours.”
Most men who were bouncers went to a bar or a nightclub. Not my lion. The Vault, a labyrinth of subterranean tunnels and rooms, was a dimension of hell. It was also a refuge for benign demons who wanted to live in peace.
“I get crap cell reception in the house, did I lose you sweetheart?” he asked.
It was now or never. Sweat made my palms slick. “I’m here. Can I, ah, come over?”
“Sure. I’ll finish up and jump in the shower. The door will be unlocked, just come in and make yourself at home. We can have dinner together.”
We said our goodbyes and I pulled onto the highway that cut through a forest of evergreen trees. The twenty-minute drive to Dante’s house felt as if it took hours. My skin crawled with anxiety and anticipation the closer I got. I parked behind his truck and shut off the engine. I withdrew the medicine bottle from my pocket, stared at the little evil pills through the see-through plastic and thought about popping two.
No. This, whatever was about to happen, was something I wanted to feel.
I shoved the bottle into my backpack and got out of the car. My heels clicked over the concrete driveway and for some reason I got this image in my head of a hammer hitting nails along an old-fashioned wood coffin. The sound was ten times louder than it should have been. I drew in a breath as the knot in my stomach cinched tighter and tighter.
I knocked once and winced at the stinging pain in my knuckles from where I’d clocked Julian. There was no movement from within the hous
e so I twisted the knob and silently opened the unlocked door. A muffled, echoing cascade of water filled the house and I followed the sound into Dante’s bedroom. Maybe this was better. I hadn’t really thought out my plan anyway. I’d probably chicken out if I had to stare him in the eyes and strip in front of him.
His room was tidy and sparse, very manly just like the rest of his house. The walls were a dark gray and matched the carpet. There was a large bed dominating the center of the room with a nightstand on either side. I fingered one of the hardwood posts on the bed and curled my hand around it. I gave it a little tug. Solid. I wondered if he’d ever tied anyone up here. Probably.
With shaking hands, I unbuttoned my jacket and let it fall to the floor in a heap. For once, my actions were completely selfish. I didn’t want to be numb. I didn’t want to pretend. I wanted Dante. Seducing him seemed the best way to achieve my goal. Tingles hit me from head to toe and even though I still heard the rushing water, I glanced at the partially closed bathroom door to make sure I was still alone.
Cool air drifted in from an open window and I shivered as my skin puckered. The shower shut off and the background noise disappeared. Crap. I hurried to slide my panties down my thighs and step out of them. The heels, I decided, were staying on.
I crawled onto the mattress and positioned myself in the middle of his bed with my hands above my head in a submissive posture. Contrasted against the black cashmere blanket, my pale skin and blonde hair painted what I hoped was an alluring picture if Dante was willing to overlook the bags under my eyes. Damn. Maybe I should have tried to put on some makeup.
Before the torture, I’d found bondage/submission—by secondhand research only—interesting, like something I might want to experiment with one day. The concept of trusting someone enough to give him or her full reign over your body sounded amazing. Too bad now the thought of restraints brought me back to the dark, haunted asylum and the vivid memories I couldn’t get rid of.
Dante strolled out of the attached bathroom in a cloud of steam. Water dripped from his hair and rolled down the thick muscles on his chest and abs. Holy shit. A towel wrapped around his hips and showed a hint of hairy thigh when he walked right by me without even a glance.
Five large, slightly puffy lines crossed his back and I knew that was where the shape shifter who’d forever changed him had infected him. Halfway to his dresser Dante stopped. In slow motion, he turned. His gaze met mine before dipping to take in the way I tucked my lip between my teeth. Heat flared in his golden eyes, darkening them. He lowered his head, and just as slowly as he’d turned, he drank me in. Dark, puckered nipples. The indent of my stomach. Tattoo. The light hair between my parted thighs.
My heart hammered in my chest and I held my breath. Dante said nothing, only continued to stare at my pussy that grew wet and swollen under his attention. He swiped his tongue over his lower lip and my sex clenched. Moisture leaked from my core and I fought not to squirm. My clit throbbed with the sudden rush of blood.
His nostrils flared as if he were taking in the scent of my arousal. A wave of touchable energy filled the room and I swear I almost spontaneously combusted. How would it be when he finally crossed the room and touched me? Would he kiss me first? Play with my nipples? Or would he simply remove his towel and shove his big, hard cock—
“Is this your jacket on the floor?” His rasping voice came out in a tone I’d never heard before. There was a touch of anger mixed with something unnamable.
I nodded with what felt like my heart in my throat. He walked over, picked it up. Dante clutched the fabric, his knuckles whitening from the strain of holding it so tight. Three seconds went by before black wool sailed through the air and landed on my stomach.
“Get dressed,” he ordered.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I sat up and held the scratchy material over my naked body. My hands shook and my vision blurred. “What?”
“You heard me just fine.” His jaw tightened, relaxed and then went hard again. “Put on the jacket, Hannah.”
He didn’t want me. The shredded pieces of my dignity I’d tentatively pieced together over the last few days scattered at his bare feet.
Chapter Three
Hot tears rolled down my cheeks and blurred my vision. I shrugged into the jacket without meeting Dante’s burning-hot gaze. Humiliated, I scooted off his bed and clutched the jacket closed. I didn’t even bother with my underwear. I went straight for the door.
“Hannah,” Dante said in a soft voice, the one he used when I was in the middle of a mental breakdown. At this very second, I hated him for knowing me so well.
I wiped the moisture from my cheeks and tried to brush past him when he moved to block the door. He grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
I looked from his hand to his handsome, masculine face. His touch, once comforting and safe, was now tarnished. His rejection made me feel like the slut I’d become over the last few weeks. Disgust curled inside my stomach. “Don’t touch me.”
He let go immediately. No questions, no protests. My heart shattered. One more rejection. If he’d truly wanted me, he wouldn’t have let go. More tears filled my eyes as my battered soul broke a little bit more.
“We need to talk about this, darlin’.”
“Why? So you can tell me how much you don’t want me? I get it. I threw myself at you and you’re not into it. Really, it’s fine.”
I shook my head and hated the tears that refused to stop. I hated the hard pit in my stomach. I hated myself for being so stupid. Dante was fifteen years older than me—he probably viewed me as a child. His kid sister. I wished the floor would open and swallow me whole.
He followed me out into the hall, into the living room. I barely saw the details. Brown couch. Large TV. Dark coffee table.
“It’s not fine,” he growled. “Damn it. Will you stop a minute and let me explain.”
At the front door I paused for only the time it took to twist open the knob. My heels click, click, clicked down the sidewalk. Yup. Nails in a coffin. Dante, still in only his towel, stalked behind me.
“Hannah, stop.” His deep voice boomed and drew the attention of the kids playing in their front yard across the street.
I opened my driver’s-side door, thankful I hadn’t locked it, and slid inside.
We had a brief wrestling match over the door. I pulled it shut. He ripped it open. I glared and pushed at more tears. “What are you going to do, force me to stay?”
My words, carelessly thrown out there, resonated. We both knew I’d been kidnapped, tortured and forced to run naked through a labyrinth of haunted halls not long ago. Dante’s face darkened with frustration and I knew he would never force me to do anything.
He lifted his hands in the air, as if done with me, and stepped back. “You want to go, then go.”
One more thing I’d ruined in my life. I threw the car into reverse, backed out and sped down the street in a squeal of tires. Through the moisture filling my eyes, the road blurred.
I didn’t try to slow down until I got onto the highway. I pressed on the brake and the pedal squished all the way down without an ounce of resistance. The car didn’t slow.
“Shit.” I pumped the pedal harder, tried to build up pressure as the manual Roy had made me read when I got my driver’s license instructed.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly enough for my knuckles to show white. Beneath my palms, sweat gathered. My heart pounded. The road ahead of me curved on a down-facing slope and while I frantically pumped the faulty pedal, my car gained momentum and the trees whizzed by. The speedometer crept from seventy to eighty.
Wonderful. Amazing. This was the single best day of my entire life!
I released my right hand from its death grip on the wheel and clutched the automatic gear shifter instead. Sweat beaded beneath my thick wool coat. My heart beat hard enough that I thought I might be going into cardiac arrest.
I pressed the button and downshifted from drive to third gear. A horr
ible noise filled the car as gears ground against each other and I winced. The sharp, chemical scent of burnt rubber filled the car. I down shifted again, this time going from three to two—flying by two other vehicles—as the car shook and slowed a little more. I kept down shifting until I had the car in first gear and made my way to the shoulder of the road.
I blew out a breath, took hold of the emergency break and lifted slowly. Through the rear-view mirror smoke, dirt and debris billowed from the rear brakes. My car slowed to a rocky stop on the side of the highway.
Stunned, I placed both damp hands on the wheel and stared blindly out the window. The only noises were my pounding heart and the other cars blurring past me on the highway. Then I heard something else. A buzzing. My cell.
The darkness and isolation closed around me. I lifted a shaky hand to flick on the overhead lights. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Almost as if I was in a trance, I reached into my purse, grabbed my phone and answered it.
I swallowed. “Hello.”
“Car trouble, Ms. Grey?” Mr. Restricted’s voice was as low and as creepy as I remembered.
My blood chilled instantly and all the sweat clinging to my skin froze. Was I being watched?
“What do you want?” I asked and searched the darkness for another parked car or a lone person walking through the trees surrounding the highway. The beams of my headlights showed nothing but particles of dust in the lights. I hit the button to lock the doors. The click didn’t reassure me.
“Everything,” he purred.
“Stop calling me,” I growled.
A rolling chuckle sounded through the line and made me sick to my stomach. “You see, I can’t do that. I see you, Hannah. I smell you—feel you. Soon you’ll feel me too. The heels were a nice touch. Black is a beautiful color on you.” He moaned. “The second you slid your pink little panties down your legs my cock got hard. Watching you crawl across the bed, it was like you knew I was watching, stroking, seconds away from com—”
I hit the end button in the middle of his sentence. Holy fuck. I was going to throw up. This pervert had been, probably still was, watching me. A screeching noise, like nails on metal, drew my attention to the passenger side of the car. I stared through the dark and saw nothing. While my head was turned, something or someone, tapped on my side window and I screamed, leaping a good foot in the air.
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