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The receptionist beamed at him, clearly happy in her role as co-conspirator, and handed him the plastic key. “She’s popular, your wife is. A girlfriend of hers stopped by an hour ago as well.”
He got halfway to the elevator before her words registered in his brain, and he stopped dead in his tracks. His blood ran cold, and his heart clenched in his chest.
He slowly turned. “A friend?”
“Yes, a pretty girl, about your age. Perhaps you know her as well?”
He wasted no more time or effort on the receptionist and bolted to the staircase. His legs were faster than any elevator could be.
“The elevator’s quicker, sir,” called the desk clerk from behind him, confused.
He arrived at her doorway in seconds, but the sinking dread in his heart told him she’d already be gone.
Or lying on the floor completely drained of blood.
He threw open the door and searched for any signs of Sabrina. The covers were wrinkled where someone had once lain, but the bed lay empty. He recognized her unopened overnight bag on the chair by the window. A pillow lay to the floor, and the bedside lamp had gotten tipped over. Of Sabrina, there was no sign. He growled in his throat and turned around. He ran out of the hotel room and through the lobby, not caring if anyone saw his mad dash.
The time for appearances had ended. He needed to find Sabrina before he was too late.
He didn’t stop to search for Elijah—he couldn’t afford the delay. Every minute wasted added to the minutes Sabrina would be scared, hurt, tortured, or even killed.
He ran faster than ever before, pausing for nothing. He could barely even see where he ran, his speed too fast to concentrate on anything. But that was okay, for he knew where he needed to go. Normally he would at least attempt to calm his raging emotions, to lower the risk of any unwanted injury or damage from the storm he had unleashed.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he welcomed the damage he caused. Tonight, he embraced the danger with open arms, relished the sound of trees crashing to the ground. Let the storms take down the whole country of England and everyone in her. He didn’t give a damn, as long as he could save Sabrina.
Every step he took, he saw her cry out in pain as Louisa broke her arm, broke her fingers, and broke her neck. He roared and amazingly, his speed increased. A cracking sound met his ears as a tree broke and collapsed to the ground in front of him. He hurdled it effortlessly and continued on.
Nothing would stop him.
***
Sabrina lay upon the bed sleeping when she heard the light knock on the door.
“Housekeeping, please open the door.”
“I don’t need room service. Go away,” she mumbled sleepily. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Sleeping helped her forget what she’d done. Sleep was necessary for her sanity.
Another knock sounded, and it was more insistent. She heard the shuffling of the cart the maids always pushed through the hallway and glared at the door.
“Housekeeping, ma’am.”
“Can you please leave? I don’t want to be disturbed.” She sought and found the stupid sign on the door where it hung on the inside doorknob, and she cursed.
“Housekeeping,” the voice repeated.
She gave an annoyed sigh and glowered at the ceiling. It was nighttime. Why would there be someone knocking on her door at this hour? Maybe they did things differently in England. To be honest, she didn’t care; she just wanted to be left alone to wallow in her misery. She might as well let the bothersome maid in, and maybe she would leave.
Swinging her feet out from under the blankets, she rolled lazily out of bed. The pillow fell off the bed, and she stared at it for a moment.
Let the maid earn her salary. She can pick it up.
Shaking her head at the laziness of such an action, she nevertheless walked to the door, leaving the pillow where it lay. Not pausing to look at the maddening maid, she unlocked the bolt, turned the knob, and swung it open.
“Come in.” She stomped back to the bed in a huff. Her hands were braced on the bed to climb in when the maid spoke.
“Thank you, Sabrina. You made it even easier than I thought it would be.”
