Chapter 21 - Elexia
Elexia
The last thing I remember is the taste of copper and the smell of ozone.
I struggled for thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of screaming, of clawing at the massive, gloved hands that pinned me to the sheets. I’d managed to land one solid kick to someone’s shin before a sharp, clinical pinch in my upper arm sent the world spinning into a gray kaleidoscope.
Whatever they used, I hope they measured the correct dose. The spin was too smooth for a paralytic. Too warm for propofol. Likely…a sedative. Professional. That worries me more.
All I remember seeing was a tall man with silver hair and wearing an expensive coat who oversaw the abduction.
Now, the world returns in a rush of cold air. I hear the hum of high-end machinery.
I groan, my eyelids feeling like they’ve been glued shut. For a few minutes, I let my body adjust, sensing a leather sofa beneath me. Once I blink my eyes open, the view makes my stomach drop.
Manhattan.
I’m in a penthouse, so high up, the cars look like ants crawling through a canyon of glass and steel. Nothing but a floor-to-ceiling wall of reinforced glass separates me from the sea of glittering lights.
I sit up, my head spinning. I’m still wearing the sheer silk chemise. My gut clenches. I look around, taking in the minimalist decor, the abstract art on the walls, and the four security guards posted like stone gargoyles near the exits.
I’m shaking. And it’s not just from the February chill.
“So this is the little whore who saved the scum.”
The voice is reedy, high-pitched, making the hair on my arms stand up. I look up to see a man leaning over the back of the sofa. Through the cuts and bruises and bandages, he looks like a weasel—sharp features, a cruel, hungry mouth.
Before I can scream, he grabs a fistful of my curls, yanking my head back until I’m forced to look at the ceiling.
“Finn,” a firm, cultured voice rings out from across the room. “Release her. That is no way to treat our honored guest.”
He releases me instantly. Finn, aka Weasel-face, stalks away, his left cheek twitching.
I scramble to the edge of the sofa, clutching my arms around my chest, as the silver-haired man from the manor approaches.
His charcoal overcoat looks like it cost more than the florist shop.
Up close, he has the same piercing features as Liam, but where Liam stares at me with a stormy warmth, this man’s stare is cold as a mountain lake.
A few feet away, he stops. I stiffen. Without a word, he sheds his heavy coat, steps forward, and drapes it around my shoulders. My lips part in shock as I take in the scent of cedar and expensive tobacco.
“It is truly a pleasure to meet the young woman who has managed to ensnare my nephew,” he says, his baritone smooth enough to melt steel as he reaches out to cup my chin.
I tug my chin away, narrowing my eyes even as I shiver. “Where is he?”
The man laughs softly, a dry sound, then drops his hand to his side. “Such a sweet girl. So concerned for him and not yourself.”
I purse my lips, shaking my head slowly. “Why should I be? You’re the one who should be concerned. No, you should be terrified of what he’s going to do to you.”
“Oh, I’m looking forward to his arrival.” He briefly stares at the elevator. “I suspect he will be here within the next hour. But come.” He gestures to the nearby supper table, set with fine china and a silver tea service. “You must be hungry after your ordeal.”
I glance at the table. It’s nearly three in the morning, but there’s a spread of smoked salmon, thin cucumber sandwiches, and a bowl of fresh berries. I wrinkle my nose—nausea still swirls in my stomach.
“And how do I know it’s not poisoned?” I wonder, quivering, hating how weak I sound.
He chuckles and moves to the table, pulling a chair out for me with a practiced, old-world gallantry. “Oh, Elexia Carter, we have no intention of harming you. Not yet, at least. But trust me when I say you will need your strength.”
“Oh? And why is that?” I press my lips into a tight seam.
“That would be telling.” His eyes glint with dark amusement. “I can’t spoil the surprise. Now, come, sit, and eat. I am a six on the Kinsey Scale and have no interest whatsoever in your…figure.”
I read between the lines instantly. He’s gay. Not a sexual threat to me. I’m a solid three on that scale—fifty-fifty bisexuality, though I was more eighty percent women to twenty percent men…until Liam. Liam, who ruined me for anyone else.
“But O’Malley there…” He indicates the loathsome weasel leaning against a nearby pillar, gaze hungry, predatory. “He is of a different breed. So, please, sit and enjoy a light meal.”
Slowly, I approach the table, legs heavy as lead. I eye the food, frowning as I lower myself into the velvet-lined chair. I feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter.
“My last supper?” My whisper shakes.
He smiles, thin and razor-sharp, as he moves to the other side of the table. “I suppose that will depend on Liam.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I reach for a piece of smoked salmon, my hand trembling.
Eamon sits in his own chair across from me and wags a finger. “Another spoiler, Elexia.”
“I won’t let you use me against him.” Pain tightens my chest, and I glance at the wall of glass. “I’d sooner jump out those windows.”
“Intriguing,” Eamon remarks, calmly observing. He reaches for the silver kettle and offers, “Tea?”
I accept with a numb nod, cupping the warm porcelain with both hands. I don’t drink it. I stare into the dark liquid, lost in thought.
“Such a strong bond formed in so little time.” Raising his hand in the air, his thumb rubs his forefinger as he regards me.
I square my shoulders. “He makes it easy.”
Eamon inspects me like I’m a puzzle, an enigma.
“You speak of him with such…devotion.” His low timbre resonates; he picks up a sliver of salmon with his fork, his movements precise and clinical.
“It’s almost as if you believe he has actually changed.
That he can be something more than the instrument my brother built.
He hasn’t evolved, Elexia; he’s just…dormant.
And with your life hanging in the balance, we’re going to ensure he wakes up.
He’ll become the devil we need just to keep you alive. ”
“No…” I hate how my lungs squeeze, my breath thins, and I shiver because, deep down, I know he’s right. To keep me alive, Liam would become a monster. They’d stick me in some dungeon cell. Or keep me far away from him, using me as leverage.
“He is more,” I snap, my fingers tightening around the teacup. “He’s more than anything you could ever understand.”
“Devotion is such an expensive delusion.” His gaze is unwavering, unnerving.
“You believe you’ve tamed him, but blood always remembers its origin.
Liam was forged to rule, not to play at being a saint.
By the time he storms this room, he won’t be a businessman.
He’ll be the beast we require to secure our legacy.
You should feel honored. You will be the catalyst to return our dynasty to its former glory.
We’re going to use your fear to remind him of who he truly is. ”
Glowering, I set the teacup down hard, the liquid splashing onto the table. “I am not afraid of you. And he will prove you wrong. And if any of you so much as touches me,” I glance at Weasel-face, “he’ll make sure you bleed out. Slowly. Painfully.”
“Speaking of blood…” Eamon looks toward the heavy mahogany doors at the far end of the room. “We have another honored guest who has been waiting most patiently to meet you.”
The doors swing open with a heavy, ominous thud.
A man strides in. He’s older than Eamon, his hair a shock of iron-gray, his frame massive and imposing. He’s dressed in a tailored navy suit, and the power radiating from him is absolute.
I drag rapid inhales through my nose. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I have no idea who he is, but every instinct screams at me to run.
He doesn’t stop until he reaches my side of the table. He focuses on me. His eyes are the exact same shade as Liam’s—that icy, piercing blue—but where Liam’s are filled with a fierce protection, cold, predatory hunger infects this man’s.
He reaches out and scoops up my hand. I tug away, but his grip is like iron, his skin rough and calloused. He brings my knuckles to his lips, but he doesn’t just kiss them. He rubs his mouth against them, slowly, lecherously. My stomach churns.
“So…” The deep, gravelly voice rumbles through my skin. “This is the lovely little lady who saved my son’s life.”
Panic spikes my pulse. My head spins, and I shake with visible tremors. “Liam…Liam said you were dead. He killed you.”
“I was for some time.” He leers down at me. “A pleasure to meet you, Elexia Carter. I am Darragh Donovan.”
The greeting is low, menacing. He doesn’t let go of my hand. He just steps closer, his breath smelling of expensive brandy and something dark and metallic.
“My son has always been a bit imaginative.” His gaze drops to the swell of my breasts above the silk chemise. “But he lacks the vision to see that some things are simply too strong to die. And he certainly lacks the vision to see a prize like you…shouldn’t be wasted on someone so…cleansed.”
Terror bolts through me, sharp and cold as a blade. I remember Liam’s story. What Darragh did to Liam’s mother. The woods. The blood. How he left her body to the wolves.
He’s a rapist. A murderer.
And judging by how Darragh inspects me now, the way his fingers trace the delicate bones of my wrist, I know. Men like this never stop at one. Their appetites never end. They collect victims. She wasn’t the first.
And despite the predatory gleam in his expression and the way he’s touching me, like I’m already his to break…I refuse to be the next.
And Liam will summon the legions of hell to make it so.