Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Calm down, everyone— calm down! ” Micah scurried toward the coffin. Glass crunched beneath his feet. “No one has been harmed.” His hands waved in the air. “Calm. Down!”
Royal forced his gaze off Violet. He slowly turned his attention to his target.
The asshole frowning at the wreckage.
“Looks like one of the clamps came off one of the Fresnel lights that had been mounted above the stage.” He grimaced. “Not ideal, certainly but…”
“Not ideal?” Royal echoed in disbelief. “You better be shitting me right now.”
Micah’s head swiveled toward him.
Royal realized he was still holding tightly to Violet. He also realized that he didn’t want to let her go. But if he was going to rip apart the prick glaring at him, Royal did need his hands free so…
Carefully, he put Violet on her feet. His gaze swept over her. “You hurt, sweetheart?”
She shook her head. But there was fear in her glorious golden eyes. He hated that shit. “Stay behind me.” He turned to face the artistic director who was begging for a beat down.
Happy to oblige you, asshole.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Micah snapped. “This is a closed rehearsal. Doesn’t matter how much money you throw around to get a dance with Violet, you should not be here!”
Royal kept his hands loose at his sides. “If I hadn’t been here, Violet would have still been trapped in that coffin when the light came hurtling down.”
“It could have killed her!” Simone called out once more. She’d edged toward the stage. She peered up at them. She’d been near the orchestra pit, and the horror was clear to see on her face. Her gaze darted toward Violet. “My God, Violet…”
“Maybe some cuts,” Micah dismissed. “Hardly a life-threatening situation. Just calm down, everyone. I get that you’re a dramatic lot, but take a minute and breathe, would you?”
And Royal lost it. He bounded forward. Fisted his hand in Micah’s shirt-front and yanked the dick toward him. “You think the prospect of Violet’s face and body being slashed by glass is no big deal?”
Micah’s eyes bulged. “I-I didn’t say?—”
Royal leaned in closer to him. Growling, he bit out, “If I slash your face, will it still be no big deal?”
All of the color drained from Micah’s face. He swayed. “S-security!”
Knowing that only Micah could hear him, Royal softly promised, “Security won’t be able to protect your ass from me. If Violet ever gets hurt and you just stand there saying it’s nothing, believe me when I say that there will be no one on this earth who can save your sorry ass.”
“Y-you wouldn’t…”
“I would do anything.” Still low. Still a promise straight from hell. “You do not know me. You have no idea what I am capable of.” But push a little more, and you will find out.
Soft fingers tapped on Royal’s shoulder. “Let him go, Royal.” Violet’s voice. “I-I really want to get out of here. We need to get a maintenance crew in. The mess has to be cleaned up. The theater reset.”
She couldn’t be serious.
“Please?” A careful entreaty from her. “Just let him go.”
He knew a deadly promise would still be in his eyes, but Royal slowly released his prey. For the moment. “You’re not calling a damn maintenance crew to clean up,” he told Micah.
Micah’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I-I’m not?”
“You’re calling the cops,” Royal snarled. “Because this looks like an attempt on Violet’s life. So no one touches anything. No one moves anything, not until the cops and the crime scene team have gone over every single inch of this place.” His gaze swept over the assembled dancers. The crew. They were all staring with wide eyes and…
Worry.
Fear.
“You…you aren’t serious,” Micah gasped out.
Royal glared at the idiot. “Do I look like I’m standing here making jokes, dumbass?”
Murmurs swept through the crowd. It was one thing to have a mishap with a piece of equipment. It was another to have just witnessed an attempted murder.
Suddenly, Micah was grabbing Royal’s arm. “You think…” A swift glance toward Violet. “You think the man who took Violet just tried to kill her? In my theater?”
He didn’t think this was the prick’s MO. But he also didn’t buy that two weeks after being taken, Violet suddenly had someone randomly throwing big ass rocks at her house and having a light fall and nearly kill her while she was trapped in a freaking coffin.
A few things needed to be made clear. Right the hell now. “The set will never be closed to me.” Micah needed to understand that vital fact. “Where Violet goes, I go. Consider me her personal bodyguard.”
Micah’s hand dropped. His lips twisted as some of his cockiness returned. “A billionaire bodyguard? Is that even a thing?”
Royal stared back at him. Just stared.
And Micah lost his twisted smile. He backed up a step. More glass crunched.
“It’s a thing right now,” Royal assured him. “If I’m not with Violet, one of my team members will be. Obviously, you can’t see to her safety. So I will.” Her fingers still pressed to his shoulder. Was she trying to calm him down? Not going to happen. He was close to exploding. She’d been fucking trapped in a coffin. A coffin. The big light had hurtled right for her. No way that was a coincidence. “You will be providing me all-access to the theater and to Violet from here on out.”
Micah bobbed his head in agreement. “I’m sure we can make arrangements for you.”
“Good. And the next thing you’ll be doing…” He looked at the crowd. “I want the name of every person here.”
“Uh, you’re not the cops…” Micah began as his shoulders stiffened.
“No, I’m something a whole lot scarier.” He needed everyone to understand this. “Violet isn’t going to be hurt. Anyone going after her will have to fucking claw through me first.”
“They’re my friends.”
Royal and Violet were in her dressing room. The cops had come. They were currently still talking to the crew and performers. A crime scene team was collecting evidence. Hours had passed.
And Royal still hadn’t calmed down.
He and Violet had recently gotten the all clear to leave, and he’d followed Violet back to her dressing room. No way was he letting her out of his sight.
She sat in front of a vanity mirror. Soft light spilled from the round bulbs that circled the mirror. He stalked up behind her as she stared into the mirror. Her gaze darted to his reflection. “My friends wouldn’t hurt me,” she said.
Was she trying to convince herself? Or him?
“They wouldn’t,” Violet insisted.
“Everyone out there isn’t a friend, sweetheart.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You need to be careful who you trust.”
A soft, almost broken laugh escaped her. “Those people out there didn’t kidnap me. They didn’t put me in his trunk. They didn’t?—”
“You were taken from the theater. You were just nearly killed in the theater.” And there was something else that burned in him. Something that he needed to tell her. Something he’d held back, but they were supposed to be partners now and—dammit. This was going to hurt her. “I have the theater’s security footage from the night of your abduction.”
Her eyes were still on his in the mirror. “I want to see it.”
Yeah, he’d figured she would.
Violet wet her lips. “And do I want to know how you got the footage?”
“I have my ways.”
“Of course, you do.” A shake of her head. “So, you’re my bodyguard now, huh?”
“I’ve played the role before. I can do it again.” Actually… “I’m pretty damn good at it.”
“You saved me today.”
He’d gone to the theater after talking with Beau because he’d had an overwhelming urge to see her. Was he developing his own obsession? Maybe.
She caught his hand. Brought it to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you.”
Okay, shit. Probably. Or even… definitely. He was definitely developing an obsession. He knew he had to tread carefully. He also had to tell her the truth. For some reason, the truth mattered with her. “I think someone else was in the video.”
“What?” Her grip tightened on him.
He inhaled. Exhaled. “After you’re taken…when the sedan drives off…” Because he’d kept watching. Hell, he’d watched and watched the video endlessly in the last two weeks, and each time he’d seen her attack, rage had filled him.
That same, dark rage filled him now.
“If you look closely in the footage,” Royal told her grimly, “you will see the flash of lights.”
In the mirror, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“It’s the flash of lights as in…someone is turning on a car.”
Her lips parted.
“Someone could have been out back.” Someone had been out back. “Parked in the theater’s rear lot, just like you were, and that person could have seen you getting taken.”
She shook her head. “No. No one reported that. No one said anything about seeing the abduction. You’re wrong.”
He’d like to be wrong. But Royal didn’t think that he was. And, deep down, he wondered if she believed what she was saying. Or if she was afraid to face the truth.
“You are wrong,” she argued. “Because if someone…if someone had seen him take me…” She leapt to her feet and spun toward him. “They would have helped me.”
He stared at her. Such a lovely face. Silken skin.
Someone cutting her face? Micah being okay with her having a few fucking slashes? Oh, hell, no. He’d be paying a visit to Micah again soon. They needed to have a little one-on-one chat. Because when it came to suspects, Micah was at the top of Royal’s list.
“If they didn’t help…then…they’d be okay with me dying.”
He stared at her. “You aren’t dying.” His hand lifted. The back of his fingers slid over her cheek. Never going to get cut. “You have me now.”
“You’re…dangerous.”
“Yes.” Why deny the truth? “But not to you. I’m not ever going to hurt you.” The chair was between their bodies. In his way. With his free hand, he shoved the chair to the side. She inched toward him. Her body brushed against his. “Are you scared of me?” Royal asked her.
Seemed important to know.
“I think I am.”
Fair enough. His hand dropped.
“But I want you far more than I fear you.” Now she was the one to touch his face. Her fingers curled under his jaw. “Kiss me, Royal?”
His eyes were on her mouth. “Probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not in complete control right now.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
It was. “If I start kissing you, I may not stop.”
“Promises, promises,” she murmured.
His hands closed around her waist. He lifted her up and sat her on the dressing room table. The soft lights were behind her, sending a glow spilling around her body, and damn if she didn’t look like an angel.
Fitting, since he felt like the devil. But an angel wasn’t supposed to wind up with the devil. That wasn’t the way things worked in this world. “You shouldn’t be with someone like me.” Yet he didn’t take his hands off her.
“Why not?”
“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Then tell me.”
Maybe he should. But if he laid bare all of his deep, dark secrets, then she would fear him, more than she wanted him.
“Who are you, Royal Boudreaux?”
“Not even my real name,” he heard himself say.
A faint line appeared between her brows.
“I was thrown away. A freaking two-year-old kid. Found wandering around Royal Street in New Orleans. No parents ever claimed me. The name I got came from the street I walked.” An exhale.
Her eyes widened and then…a tear slipped down her cheek.
“What the hell?” Royal stared in horror at that tear drop.
Then another fell.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Violet!”
She swiped at her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”
His chest burned. Ached. Burned.
Another teardrop fell.
“Stop it.” He didn’t like her tears. This time, he was the one to wipe the teardrop away. To catch it on his hand.
No one ever cried for me before.
Why was she crying for him?
“I like your name,” she said, even as another tear leaked down her cheek. “I like you. I want you, Royal, and I?—”
He took her mouth. He could taste the salt of her tears, and she should not be crying. Not Violet. She should not be crying for me.
His hand curled carefully under her jaw. Her mouth opened beneath his, and her tongue snaked out to meet his. She kissed him tenderly, as if he was somehow the fragile one, when the truth could not be further from that.
He pushed closer to her. Stood between her spread legs. And the hunger he felt for her burst free. He’d been riding a dangerous river of adrenaline ever since he’d seen her on that stage. Trapped in the coffin. Shoving her hands against the glass.
Get her. Save her.
Take her away.
He kissed her with growing hunger as his control fractured. This wasn’t the place for her first time. He knew that. Knew that he should exercise restraint and caution.
But restraint and caution had always been so very boring.
Letting lust reign. Letting need dominate? So. Much. Better.
She’d changed her attire after getting back to her dressing room. Put on soft, supple yoga pants that hugged her legs and delectable ass. A loose top that fell off one shoulder. Her hair was still twisted up into a bun, but loose tendrils had escaped to tease her cheeks.
A moan slid from her throat, and he greedily took the passionate sound. She hadn’t turned away from him when he’d started revealing his past to her.
Thrown away. Left behind.
And she’d cried for him.
She knew about his hunts. About the twisted extracurricular activity as Avalon called it.
Hunting like a monster. Feeding the darkness inside.
And she wanted to be his partner. She wanted to hunt with him.
How the hell was he supposed to stop from absolutely consuming her?
Her hands slid over his back. She pulled him closer. “Royal…” A husky cry of his name.
He forced his head to lift. Violet blinked up at him. Eyes heavy with passion, not fear. She wanted him. No lie. He was ready to fight the world for her.
Or to just kill some deserving bastards. Whatever worked.
“You’re coming home with me,” Royal told her, all too aware that his voice had gone ragged.
She licked her lower lip.
Sonofa—
“Safer that way,” he rasped. “I’ve got great security. You’ll be protected at my place.”
“Right. Protected.”
Her voice dripped over him like the best sin.
He sucked in a breath and decided to give her a fair warning. “You’ll also be fucked.”