by Ciana Stone
Morgan's first thought was to lie to him so he wouldn’t hurt her. But her anger erupted instead, making her ready to fight. She didn't owe him any explanations about anything, and she'd be damned if she would let anyone bully her.
She reached up, grabbed his thick wrist and pressed her fingers deep into the sensitive nerve center, causing his hand to go temporarily numb. As his grip loosened, she wiggled free of him and scooted up toward the head of the bed into a sitting position.
"That's none of your damn business!" She snarled at him, feeling the tender skin around her neck where his hand had left soreness.
Victor lunged at her with a snarl issuing from between his tightly clenched teeth. Reacting instantly, she rolled sideways off the bed and landed lightly on her feet, looking around for her clothes while at the same time watching him.
She didn’t see her dress, but his discarded shirt lay on the floor. Warily watching him as he sat tensely on the bed, ready to spring, she slid her arms into the sleeves and pulled the shirt up over her shoulders.
Morgan backed away from the bed and made her way across the room to the door. The moment she reached it, she flung it open and took off through it, slamming it shut behind her. "Shit!" She looked up and down the long hall, "Which way?" The house was so big, she couldn't remember the quickest way out.
Having no time to waste, she turned to the right and raced down the hall. She had to get out of sight before Victor emerged from the bedroom, so she dashed through the door at the end of the hall.
"Oh, shit!" She looked around the dark room in dismay. She had walked into what looked like some decorator's demented idea of a scene from the Arabian Nights.
Aside from thin gauzy curtains that billowed in the breeze from the opened windows, the only furnishings in the room were large upholstered floor pillows and several low wooden tables holding glass decanters containing various colored liquids.
"Nowhere to hide," she looked around with increasing dread.
The door flew open and Victor stalked into the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.
Silently they eyed each other, two adversaries intent on sizing up the other's weakness. Victor's initial rage had abated somewhat. The thrill of the fight and the excitement of the conquest sang in his veins.
Quite a challenge, this one, he marveled at her tenacity in spite of himself. All the others were so easily tamed, so manageable. Juro was right. This one is indeed different. Even under the effects of the drug, she dares to defy me.
With lightning speed, he attacked, seeking to catch her off guard. Morgan sidestepped his advance and circled him. "So, it is a battle you seek, my love," he teased, edging in closer as he whispered to her in the shadows.
Circling one another slowly, they spiraled in, each orbit bringing them nearer. Victor made the first move. Dropping down with his left leg bent, he extended his right leg, spinning as he dropped, seeking to sweep her feet out from under her from the rear.
Just as his foot came near her leg she jumped and extended her left leg in a snapping motion. Her kick caught him across the cheek and the force of the blow threw him off balance. He rolled back and bounded to his feet, clearly surprised she’d outmaneuvered him. Paying closer attention, yet still confident, he prepared to move against her. He had underestimated her the first time. That wouldn’t happen again.
He stepped in with a karate-style high round kick. The air sizzled with his speed. Morgan stepped straight toward him, driving her fist into his midsection as his foot whizzed harmlessly by her head. Immediately following the punch, she hooked her left arm around his upraised knee and threw him to the ground.
With a howl of rage, he shot to his feet, coming at her with a flurry of rapid-fire punches, unbalanced in his rage. She crouched as his first punch neared her face, then sprang forward, butting him in the chest with her head as she raised her forearm to deflect the punch upwards. Quickly sweeping out with her right leg, she knocked his foot out from beneath him.
Victor rose again, breathing heavily, "This is growing tiresome," he said. "Stop this foolishness immediately, Morgan. I have been easy with you. I do not want to have to hurt you. Give up this silly act and come back to bed."
Morgan circled, her words short and harsh. "What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? Are you crazy?"
Victor had no intention of explaining himself. He had never answered to anyone for his actions and he didn’t intend to start now. “Look at me.”
She complied and he continued with a smile. “Don’t fight me, darling. You can’t win.”
"Wanna bet?" her voice came back, strong and clear.
Victor stopped dead in his tracks. The drug was not supposed to act this way. There was something wrong. He stalked closer.
Watching nervously as he approached, Morgan looked around for some kind of weapon. As she retreated, her leg brushed against one of the large floor cushions. A sudden inspiration hit her. She grabbed the cushion and tossed it toward Victor, moving quickly backward to locate another as the cushion sailed through the air toward him. "Catch!" she said in what she hoped was a playful voice.
Victor caught it easily and tossed it aside. No sooner had he grabbed the first, another flew toward him. Laughing at her game, he casually knocked it aside, inching closer to her.
Three more cushions were thrown, and each was aimed a little more toward his face. All three were caught or brushed aside. Finally, she was down to one cushion. Aiming directly at his face, she threw it with all her might. He caught it and had just moved it from in front of his face when Morgan flew at him, catching his exposed body with a powerful side kick to the sternum.
The breath whooshed out of him as the force propelled him backward, stumbling over the scattered cushions. He lost his balance he went down.
Morgan saw her opportunity and fled for the door. She fumbled with the lock, got the door open and ran back down the long hall, coming to the winding staircase that led down to the front of the house. At a dead run she descended to the ground level.
Spotting lights on in the front of the house, she turned and ran for the terrace. Surely there was a way out. Once on the terrace, she scanned the area. No one was around that she could see. A large iron gate set in the wall to the far right of the pool drew her attention.
She leaped over the rail that edged the terrace and dropped to the smooth marbled surface that surrounded the pool. Quickly but carefully she made her way around the pool toward the gate, cautious not to slide on the damp surface.
When she reached the gate, she tried to open it. "Damn, locked!" Frantic to escape she looked around for another exit and made a desperate decision. With her back to the wall, she made her way back over to the terrace. A balcony extended over it, running the length of the house. If she could get up to it, she could make it to the top of the wall surrounding the pool then jump down to the other side.
She climbed onto the terrace rail, crouched and jumped as high as she could. Her fingers just barely managed to catch the bottom of the balcony rail. Her arms strained as she swung suspended from the rail. It took all her strength to pull herself up, but she managed, and then climbed over the railing and ran down to the opposite end.
The wide stone wall lay about six feet below. She climbed over the railing, took a deep break and jumped.
Her feet had no more contacted the ground when two men appeared before her. One man reached out and grabbed her right wrist with his left hand and raised his right fist to strike.
Before he had time to act, she drove her left fist into his face, at the same time twisting her wrist so that her captured arm came up and then circled under her attacker's grabbing arm. Morgan shifted her body back, with her right leg hooking around his left. She pulled and sent him to the ground with a scream of pain as his shoulder dislocated.
The second man moved in, throwing a straight front kick at her face. She blocked the kick with her left arm, dropped to one knee, and drove a straight arm punch to his groin.
The man howled as her fist made contact with his unprotected testicles.
Morgan jumped up, turned to flee and ran head on into another man. Just as she gained her balance to attack, two other men grabbed her, one on each arm. She struggled to break free, pulling and kicking at them. "Let go of me!"
Her arms were suddenly twisted painfully as the men pulled them straight out to her sides, forcing her to bend forward at the waist in an effort to relieve the strain.
Leading her stumbling and bent over in pain, they shoved her in through a door the third man held open. The door slammed shut behind her as she straightened up, rubbing her aching wrists.
She looked around. She was in what looked like a large office or study. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases, laden with thousands of books. An enormous oak desk sat at one end of the room.
At the other end, a fire burned brightly in the marbled fireplace. Two large leather wing chairs sat before the fire. As she looked in that direction, Victor rose from one of the chairs and turned to her.
She backed up a step and groped for the door knob, discovering it locked. With ever-increasing apprehension, she watched as Victor walked toward her. His face wore an expression she couldn’t read as his eyes shot blue sparks in her direction.
Sudden confused and blurred images burst in her mind, causing her to stagger under their violation. She could make no sense out of the chaos that filled her mind. The peculiar feeling she had experienced before began to take hold. Struggling to maintain control she stood with her back pressed up against the door as Victor stopped just inches from her.
Like a fierce predator closing in on its prey, he smiled down at her, the strange blue flames within his eyes dancing wildly in his eyes. "No more games," he hissed as he reached for her.
Well, it certainly isn’t looking good for Cord and Morgan, but the tale is far from finished, so do come back for more in the next installment… Relentless.
From Ciana
I've been a reader my entire life, finding solace, excitement, happiness, fear and love in the pages of books. If anything has been a constant in my life, it's reading.
I also remember all of the times in my life when being able to buy a book was a luxury, a treat that I didn't get every week. I've never forgotten those times or how much those books meant to me.
That's why I am so grateful to you, the readers. Regardless of your level of income or profession, I understand how precious your reading dollars are and I feel humbled that you've used some of those dollars to purchase my books.
I hope my stories prove worthy of your investment and thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Many blessings.
Ciana Stone