Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Air whooshes from my lungs as my back slams against the cold, mirrored wall of the elevator. Keeping me pinned in place, Karson shifts to press the button for the top floor.
“Where are you t-taking me,” I choke out under his firm grip, trying my best to convey my fury and not let slip that I’m fiercely fighting the pain in my chest–desperate for air.
He says nothing, adjusting his grip on my throat, allowing me to suck in a quick breath.
He levels me with a menacing look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
My fight for survival is quickly overcome with rage once again.
My arms reach up to grab his wrist, and I dig my nails into his skin with as much strength as I can muster.
The bastard chuckles and steps in closer to me.
“Are you done, terror?” He squeezes, the nickname rolling off his tongue in a dark, ominous tone.
“Not even close,” I manage to get out before readying myself. I go to lift my knee, but he's quick, sliding back just enough so that the blow doesn't land. He raises me slightly so that my toes barely leave the ground and steps back into me.
“Uh-uh,” He tuts. “Calm down, doll.” He brushes the hair that's fallen in my face behind my ear, leaving a frenzy of goosebumps in his wake.
Don’t…no…NO!
I yank my face away from his hand, my jaw clenches tightly as I let out a harsh breath.
Refusing to look at him, I watch our reflection in the mirrored wall.
His gaze never strays from my face, his body pressed into mine keeping me flush against the wall.
His thumb strokes my pulse point, causing the temperature in the elevator to rise and a shiver racks my body.
He hums from deep inside his chest, and I can feel the sound trying to crack my resolve.
I don’t think so.
Turning my head back to him, my gaze crashes into his. His steel-colored eyes don't shy away, nor does his expression change. He just watches me with an intensity I can't put my finger on, and for a moment, I feel myself start to slip. Catching myself, I stiffen my spine and raise my chin.
“What’s wrong, nut job? Are you jealous that another man touched me and I didn't immediately want to vomit?” I snark. His body tenses, but he doesn't tighten his grip, keeping me in place by my throat. He lowers me to my feet and cocks his head to the side.
“You think I’m jealous, terror? No. Not even a little.” He presses his chest into mine. “This isn't a game to me, Ashlynn. That idiot could have hurt you.”
My eyes roll. “He was drunk and he bumped into me.”
“And he should have left it at that, but his repulsive hand touched you. Grabbing your waist in some fake ass attempt to save you from falling. No one touches you. I’ll cut off his hand if I see him again, but that’s not what this is about.
” His voice is controlled, but I see the warring emotions in his eyes.
“Then what is it?” I snap. “My shift isn’t over for two more hours and you just carried me out of there like a fucking cave man! Take me back down there now.” Rage builds in my chest again, and I want to scream. To punch him again. I’m so sick of being fucking controlled.
A growl rumbles deep in his chest as he turns and smashes the emergency stop with his fist, nearly shattering the control panel.
My eyes widen as he whips back around to look at me.
The elevator comes to an abrupt halt, causing my insides to somersault.
The lights inside the suspending box flicker, making his expression more intense, more threatening. I shudder.
“You’re not going back down there. Not tonight, and not ever if I have anything to do with it.” His jaw tightens and I feel the energy in the cage of the elevator shift.
“Over my dead body, Karson.”
“It isn’t safe. Rapture isn't safe.” There’s a calmness in his voice that I don't understand given he punched the stop button only a second ago. His free hand grips my chin, not harshly, but enough to keep my attention on him. I’m struggling to keep my senses in check—it’s nearly impossible when the man in front of me is as chaotic as a hurricane.
“What are you-” I hiss, but my words are cut off by his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. My body freezes as I watch the storm in his eyes settle. The clouds lift and a calmness takes over them. He leans into me, brushing his nose against my neck.
“It isn’t safe,” he whispers. His breath lands on my neck sending goosebumps all over my skin. The air around me gets sucked away, and my chest tightens.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He straightens back out and his eyes land on mine once more. He watches my face, looking for any hint of what I’m thinking.
“You’re not safe.” My voice comes out in a stuttered whisper, my body betraying me as it softens under him a little. My chest rises and falls harshly as I try to regain control after he’s thrown my resolve on its ass.
“I’m the safest option you have, doll. I need you to trust me,” he says.
No menace or smugness in his tone. It’s calm, laced with a hint of desperation.
His thumb strokes my cheek slightly, sending a shiver racing down my spine.
His eyes soften when mine slam into him, silently demanding a reason I should.
“Why should I?”
“Because I would never let anything happen to you. I’d torch this shit hole to the ground if it meant you were safe.” Still watching me, his head tilts slightly and his eyes continue pleading.
I can't think straight. What I want to do is tell him to fuck off and die, to leave me alone forever.
That I never want to see his face again and get back to work.
But, that's never worked before and I shouldn't delude myself into thinking it will now.
Especially with the urgency in his tone when he told me it wasn't safe.
“Where are we going?” I change the subject.
He turns one more time, pushing the button again to start the elevator. We continue our ascent to the penthouse floor.
“You’re staying with me tonight.”
“Like fuck I am!”
“Jesus Christ, will you just stop?” His voice raises slightly, his temper starting to fray.
His arms raise and he fists the hair at the nape of his neck briefly before he drops them and crosses them over his chest. “Stop. This isn't negotiable. You’re staying with me tonight. End of discussion. Tomorrow when the sun is up, you can fight me all you want and hightail it back home. But for now, just stop-” He wraps his hand around my throat again, his grip tightening slightly to accentuate his words, “fucking fighting me.”
Clearly, if I try to run when these damn doors open, he’s just going to drag me back to him. I’m tired and don't know that I have the energy to keep this up much longer anyway. But I won't let him know that. As soon as the sun rises, I’ll haul ass and go home.
“Fine,” I grit out. I can feel the blaze in my eyes, but he visibly relaxes. He removes his hand from my throat and steps back.
“Good.” He nods, watching me warily.
The signature ting of the elevator signals our arrival and the doors slide open. He throws his hand out in a you first gesture, and I exit. He steps out behind me, placing his hand on the small of my back then ushers me forward.
My heart hammers in my chest as we walk down the hallway and come to a stop at a room.
The gold placard on the door reads The Ninth with Private Residence underneath it. My eyebrows furrow and I turn toward him as he fishes out a key card from his wallet.
“The Ninth?” I ask.
“Nine circles of hell,” he answers without looking at me. He waves the key card over the scanner, and the door unlocks with a click. He pushes it open and waits patiently for me to step in.
“After you,” he says.
“Entering the ninth circle of hell with you? Sounds ominous,” I mumble as I slowly step inside. The door closes behind us, and a weight settles in my gut.
“I’ll show you to the room.” Karson grabs my hand and walks in front of me. The contact makes me jump, and the air leaves the room around me once again.
Fuck, fuck…fuck.