Chapter Twenty-Two #2
My heart kicked, immediately thinking about Krish. “I have one of those too.”
“I remember.” He snorted. “Although...I can’t imagine he’s like mine.”
I shook my head, fondness and longing squeezing my chest. “No, I can safely say mine is nothing like yours. He’s...different. Wonderfully different.”
He stiffened. “Just like you’re different?” Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “Don’t answer that.”
His gaze dropped to my collar.
His hands balled.
Whatever he saw when looking at me summoned silver shadows in his stare.
Ever so slowly, he stood.
My skin prickled.
My nipples pebbled.
Every urge and ache from before returned with a desperate, unwanted agony.
I hated that I wanted him to touch me.
I cursed myself that I desperately needed him to—
“Don’t.” Looking away, he ran both hands over his face. “Christ, don’t.”
Don’t?
Don’t what?
Be vulnerable?
Be sad, afraid...needy?
I frowned. I went to ask—
“Don’t look at me with your golden eyes. Don’t—” He cut himself off, glancing at the cameras. Whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t want Victor to hear.
Victor.
The ringleader of this awful circus.
The director of every terrible, tragic thing we’d had to do to survive.
Helplessness rose inside me, knotting itself to all my fury and fear.
My pulse pounded as I let just a fraction of lonely weakness escape.
“I think I’m allowed to be a little on edge after what just happened, don’t you?
I’m allowed to cry if I’m sad. I’m allowed to be angry that I’m trapped. I’m allowed to want—”
“Careful, Ily.” He went fatally still. “Be very fucking careful.”
I didn’t know if his warning was for the cameras or genuine.
I tried to read his stiff body language.
But I couldn’t.
And suddenly...it was too much.
I couldn’t be around him feeling the way I did.
I couldn’t allow myself to feel anything.
Especially not need or attraction or confusion or anger or resentment.
I’d say something that would get us killed.
And I probably wouldn’t regret it.
“You know what?” I crossed my arms, shuddering as I brushed my nipples. “I think I’d prefer to sleep with the other jewels tonight.”
He dropped his hands, rearing back as if I’d slapped him.
I swayed on the bed.
Where had those words come from? I hadn’t even been thinking them. I hadn’t even acknowledged where I would sleep or what would happen now we were alone. All I knew was the urge to run returned with an unbearable burn, and I didn’t know how much more I could stand.
Peter.
I wanted his prickly no-nonsense attitude. There were no shades with him. No script I had to follow. I wanted to sleep beside all the other jewels so I could strengthen my vow to stay strong and save them.
Swinging my legs out of bed, I sucked in a breath and stood.
My white negligee might as well have been nonexistent.
I felt naked and exposed.
Collared and cuffed.
And alone.
So horribly, horribly alone.
Henri glowered as I stood on the other side of the mattress. The carved wooden spirals of the four-poster bed speared toward the black-painted ceiling. “You’d prefer to sleep with him you mean.”
I frowned. “Him? Him who?”
Moving predator-slow toward me, he tipped his chin down. His shadowed eyes shot messages I couldn’t decipher. His clenched teeth tore at things he would never say. I couldn’t move as he crossed to my side of the bed, slinked his fingers through my hair, then tipped my head back.
I gasped as his lips found my ear. “We can’t talk freely in here.
There are cameras fucking everywhere, and we can never forget our roles.
You can’t talk to me like that and get away with it.
Victor will see. He’ll challenge me to punish you.
So...what is it you really want to say? Say it now, and we’ll act it off and go to sleep. God knows we both need to rest.”
His rich, rumbling voice echoed right in my heart.
He’s right.
Sleep deprivation would only get us pissy with each other.
That’s why I’m out of sorts.
Why I’m twitchy and jumpy and itching for a fight.
Not because I was horny. And definitely not because I couldn’t stop my mind from replaying him mounting and taking me.
I’d had no visual.
I hadn’t dared look.
But by denying one sense, I’d only amplified the rest.
The way he’d grunted with every thrust.
The way his cock stretched me with ownership.
The way my tongue burned with the taste of leather.
But most of all...the way my skin sparked with blistering, blinding light as if a million suns burned me alive.
God.
It’s too much.
All of it. Him. This place. What we’d done.
He let me go as if sensing how close I was to breaking.
I wrapped my arms around myself, flinching at the coldness of metal around my wrists. The weight of my cuffs refused to let me forget what I’d become. The slimy wetness between my thighs screamed that he’d been inside me. I couldn’t even tell if what we’d done was consensual or coerced.
Crowding me, Henri placed a hand on my cheek.
I froze as his gaze dropped to my lips.
My heart thundered as every part of me clenched, craved, invited.
I hated this power he had over me.
Hated that there was something about him. Something violent and protective. Something not entirely human.
When he didn’t speak, I licked my lips and forced myself to sound brave. “How...” I cleared my throat to a whisper. “How much longer until they come for us?”
Shadows gathered as his face turned unreadable.
Sighing heavily, he replied ever-so-quietly, “Dawn if things go to plan. I’d hoped Victor’s signal scrambler wouldn’t affect GPS frequencies but judging by the fact that no one has come, I think we’re shit out of luck.
I...I’m going to figure out a way to turn off the scrambler when everyone goes to bed.
My broth—, eh, my unit will hopefully find us and come within a few hours. ”
Shudders and ice.
Horror and despair.
I came face to face with the very real notion that Henri was just as vulnerable as me.
“You mean...your team didn’t follow you from Paris? They didn’t foresee something like this? Not a single person knows where we are?”
Wait.
Another question popped into my head. One I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten.
“How did you pay Victor? How am I here right now? Surely, your boss didn’t give you two million euros to pay a trafficker?”
His breath tickled my nape, teasing all my nerve endings. “The less you know, the better.”
“But—”
“Enough.” He shook his head. “He’s coming. That’s all you need to know. I’ll make sure of it.”
My knees wobbled as exhaustion set in.
We’re doomed.
Lack of food and hope made me dizzy.
I reached for his broad wrist, needing support.
The moment my fingers curled around him, he swallowed a curse. “Goddammit, you really shouldn’t touch me.”
I ignored the blistering heat in my belly; the feathering clench from his husky, dark voice.
“H-How do we turn it off? The scrambler, I mean,” I whispered. “How do we get everyone free?”
“We?” His voice strangled. “There’s no we, Ily. I’ll take care of it on my own.”
“But...” I blinked. “We’re in this together.”
A low, gut-wrenching groan escaped him.
He shook off my hold and put some distance between us. The way he paced made me wonder if he felt anything at all for me.
Did he want me as much as I wanted him?
Did he feel the same prickly pain whenever we were close?
With swift steps, he flicked a look at the cameras and marched back into me. Pinning me against one of the posters of his medieval-looking bed, his hand went to my throat.
I shuddered.
He swallowed hard.
Power arched through his touch, far too potent and threatening.
His breath came a little thinner as he whispered, “I told you, I have a plan.”
“A plan?”