Why not make the best of it?
“This chicken’s not half bad, Beta.”
“Would you care for another napkin, Miss?”
“Nah, Beta. I still have one.” Quinn hid her victorious sneer against the billowing sleeve of the dress shirt. No longer pristine, the glowing white forever marred with garlic sauce and the juices of the rather delicious chicken. Wiping her mouth on the back of the sleeve once more, she turned her attention to the potatoes gracing the plate. Holding a forkful to her lips, the vibrant pink of her tongue touched the golden flesh. The warm yellow dressing had the spicy tang of mustard. That would leave a glorious stain on the pale gray trousers and rug.
“My name is Curtis, Miss.” Each word was bit out around clenched teeth, the fullness of his lips compressed to a strained line. Every muscled angle of the male was taut with aggressive displeasure.
“Oh, am I supposed to call my captors by their names now?” A twitch of her hand sent the well sauced potatoes tumbling from her fork. Feigning just the right amount of exaggerated dismay, Quinn watched them pitch down her thigh to land with a wet smack against the plush rug. “Oops.”
“What do you think you are doing?” Curtis snarled as he dropped to a knee, snatching the unused napkin from Quinn’s loose grip to blot at the creamy, saffron hued mess.
“Eating, as I was commanded to do.”
“You are acting like a child, throwing a temper tantrum because you aren’t getting your way.”
“So what I’m hearing is that not only is he a rapist and a kidnapper but also a pedophile?”
The tight, jerky movements of his hand as he scrubbed at the dark green nap were a warning she decided not to heed with a twitch of a narrow shoulder hidden beneath the Alpha’s shirt. Looking around the table, she examined the elaborate spread that the Beta had arranged with studious care atop yet another blinding white piece of linen. Pale gray eyes didn’t just gleam, they damn well sparkled as they lit upon the bottles of wine. There had been some nonsense about the red not going with the chicken, but he’d offered it all the same.
Stupid man for not getting it out of her reaches sooner. Deciding it was his own fault for not thinking ahead, she slipped the cork free as he continued to mutter and growl beside her chair. Another feigned gasp preceded a waterfall of thick crimson washing over the edge of the table as she knocked the glass over. The leg of the trousers was soaked through, the dusty scent of fermented grapes billowing through the air as the wine made a delightful splash against the floor.
“Oh, dear. I seem to be all thumbs tonight.” Delivered in a flawless deadpan, Quinn stared at him from only inches away. A tic started at the corner of his left eye, rich brown irises promising a world of agonies.
Curtis stood with mechanical strain. Glancing down, he brushed at the growing stain of vermillion on his pant leg. Without a word, he spun on his heel and marched from the room, bearing straight and tall.
Quinn let out a slow, shaky breath as the door closed with too much care. She might have pushed him a little too far. The bitter scent of his anger clung to the back of her throat like hot ashes and she washed it away with a long gulping drink of water.
Seconds ticked by as she waited for the storm to erupt. He’d come back enraged, taking it all out on her. As she began to wonder if she had pushed too hard with some stupid wine, she realized she hadn’t heard the lock engage. The door had been almost silent as it closed, but there hadn’t been the hard snick of a key turning.
Jumping up from the table, she rushed to the door and set her fingers on the knob. Turning it, she had to swallow the furious howl of victory when it rotated. She had wasted precious seconds waiting for the Beta to return with his impotent fury. She had to hurry.
Within the space of a few trembling breaths, she had the shirt and pants in enough order she could run if she needed to. There was nothing to suffice as shoes, so she would just have to go barefoot. She gave a longing look to the half-finished meal, the instantaneous rumble of her stomach reminding her she hadn’t eaten in Gods knew how long.
With a groan, she stuffed a handful of chicken and potatoes into her mouth before running out of the room.
Laid out in an almost sterile design, it was easy to navigate to the lower levels. How she’d managed not to be seen was a mystery until she found herself on the ground floor. The house was massive, ostentatious, and all of it was dark. Not a single soul seemed to occupy the space as Quinn drifted from one shadowy room to the next. Curtis had claimed there was a cook, yet silence seeped through the darkness until every ragged breath she took was a booming thunder.
Pressed against the wall of what might have been an office, she clutched at her chest. The relentless pressure writhed. It twisted deeper, stealing what little breath she managed in its vice like grip.
She had to get out of there.
Stumbling towards a glass door with her vision throbbing red, Quinn was less careful than she ought to have been. Paper scattered to the floor in a shuffling hush that had her backpedaling. A low table caught her at the knees and pitched her to the ground in a mess of flailing limbs. With a graceless squawk, Quinn went sprawling.
Straining through the pounding in her ears, she waited for the muscled Beta to come barreling through the door. Perhaps unseen males would rush her instead. When nothing happened, she struggled to her feet and slammed into the door, fumbling the lock until it slid free and sent her out into the cold night.
Fresh air that should have given her a rush of elated freedom seared her raw lungs and turned the relentless pressure into stabbing knives.
Indecision caught her up and held her on the threshold. Nerves scraped raw, thoughts tumbled over one another in a mad dash that refused to make sense. A disturbing part of her wanted to return to the room that promised safety. It was warm and quiet. A comfortable bed and delicious food would still be waiting for her there.
Quinn scoffed at the notion. Those comforts had never driven her to such lengths of madness. To remain under the Alpha’s thumb was dangerous in ways too plentiful to enumerate. No matter how the vision of her tangled nest gnawed at her now, calling to be set to rights and burrowed into. To be wrapped safe and warm in the Alpha’s scent.
Eyes showing far too much white, panic began to scrape at the back of her neck. Launching herself out into the darkness with legs pumping, she sprinted across the perfect lawn towards the shadowy trees.
Whether she was being allowed to run or if she had slipped the leash, Quinn didn’t care. No cry of alarm went up and no lights flooded the night. She ran as fast and as hard as she could as the woods swallowed her up. She didn’t even think of stopping.
Well after dawn found her staggering down a filthy backstreet in a wavering line. Shaking with exhaustion and chilled to the bone, the wet slap of her bare soles against asphalt echoed up the towering buildings that seemed to lean in and watch her with their blank eyes. Uncertain of how many endless miles she’d travelled through the long night or how she’d gotten there through the stumbling gray haze, only the hulking brick beasts proved she’d managed to get to the far side of the city. Much further and she’d be at the docks with the ocean beyond, and even then, she wasn’t sure it would be far enough away. The ache in her chest had become sheer agony with every step, spreading until it throbbed through every inch of her body. Even her toes hurt with the violent pulse of it.
