I scrub a hand over my face.Fuck, the way I’m tempted to do just that. My groin throbs painfully, hunger clawing like a demon beneath my skin.
Technically, the dress isn’t a requirement for her trap, but London uses her expensive suits and tight little pencil skirts as armor, a disguise. I want her stripped of her defenses, out of her comfort zone.
Besides, I took meticulous care selecting her attire for tonight. The black satin will cling to her curves, and the deep-purple slip beneath matches the tinted beads woven through the pearl shawl, reminding me of her lilac scent.
I yank the dress from the hanger and unzip the back. “Take off your clothes.”
She steps backward. “No.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Another two days in the cage, then?”
A derisive laugh tumbles out. “You don't have that kind of time.” She crosses her arms. “I might be feverish, but I’m stillyourdoctor. I can see it in your jumpy muscles, your anxious movements and labored breathing. Whatever awaits me outside of this cage is far worse than what I suffered inside it.” She studies me closely. “And people are looking for me. They’re getting close, aren’t they?”
Tossing the dress to the floor, I close in. “If you don’t undress, I’ll do it for you—and I’ll make sure to enjoy every second.”
Her features harden. “You were kidnapped as a child,” she fires back, retreating another step. “That’s why you always refused to talk about your parents during sessions.”
I halt in front of her. “Mind games are for later, doctor.”
She tries to move, but I lunge forward, giving her just enough room to turn before my arms seize her waist from behind. Her strength is depleted—she fights weakly as I wrestle her to the floor, flipping her onto her back and pinning her wrists beneath my knees.
“I was hoping we could work in a little foreplay before dinner.” I grab the collar of her T-shirt and tear it down the center, revealing her beautiful body beneath.
“You’re sick?—”
“We’ve already established that.” I shift just slightly so I can reach her sweatpants.
She takes advantage and wiggles a hand free. Before I can recover her arm, she brandishes something silver clutched tightly in her fist.
“You can dine with the devil, you evil bastard.” She plunges a fork into my abdomen.
“Motherfuck—” Sharp pain radiates through my stomach. And yet, I can’t help but laugh at the twisted irony as I grip the utensil buried in my flesh.
“Do you stab all the men who lock you in a cage?”
“Fuck you—” She uses her knees to shove me off. Then she crawls toward the door, getting to her feet when she clears the cell.
I roll onto my back and brace myself, gritting my teeth as I yank the fork free. My hand comes away with blood, my shirt absorbing the red. Pressing my palm to the throbbing wound, I assess the damage to the side of my abdomen.
Painful—but not fatal.
I’m tracking her down the hallway when I hear her scream. It doesn’t take long to locate her, sprawled across the floor, her foot caught on a tripwire.
I grab the waistband of her pants and lift her off the wire. Flipping her onto her back, I straddle her thighs. “I’m going to assume you meant to miss vital organs.”
She spits in my face, and I love the way the motion makes her tits bounce.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, tasting her. Then I wrap my hands around her slender throat and bear down on top of her. “Sweet dreams, London.”
Her desperate gasps pulse against my palms as her nails rake at my hands. Blood vessels burst in her eyes, her struggle becoming weaker.
When her arms drop, I loosen my grip, slanting my mouth over hers to taste her last shallow pleas before darkness claims her.
27
DARKNESS
LONDON
