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“Mia. Open the fucking door.”
She waited.
“Mia, if you make me open this door myself, you will regret it.”
She believed him, but she refused to go meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter. At the very least, she wanted him to have to deal with some house repairs afterwards.
The door flew off the hinges, crashing onto the floor. Even though she expected it, Mia still jumped from the suddenness of the violent action.
Korum stood in the doorway, looking magnificent and angry. His high cheekbones were flushed with color, and his eyes were almost pure gold.
“Are you seriously hiding from me in my own bathroom?” he asked, his tone dangerously quiet.
Mia nodded, afraid that her voice would tremble if she spoke. Despite her best intentions, fat tears kept sliding down her cheeks.
He came toward her then, and Mia shut her eyes, hoping that it will be over quickly. Instead, she felt his hands on her naked shoulders, lightly stroking her skin.
Her eyes flew open, and she stared up at him.
“Get in the shower,” he said. “You have his stink all over your body.”
In the shower? He wanted her clean. Mia’s stomach churned with nausea at the realization that he intended to have sex with her – maybe for the last time – before he killed her.
She shook her head in refusal.
His expression darkened. Before Mia could further contemplate the wisdom of her actions, the little dress lay in shreds on the floor and he was carrying her – naked and squirming – to the shower stall. A surge of adrenaline kicked in, and she arched in mindless panic, furiously kicking and scratching anything she could reach. Suddenly, she was standing on her feet inside the stall, and he was looming over her with an incredulous look on his face.
“Are you insane?” he asked her softly. “Did all that alcohol fuck with your brain?”
Panting from exertion and fear, she stared up at him defiantly through the tears blurring her vision. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with! I don’t want to be fucked first!”
His eyebrows rose, and he looked genuinely taken aback. “You think I’m going to kill you?” he asked slowly, as though not believing his ears.
“You’re not?” It was Mia’s turn to be surprised. Her heart pounded as if she’d run a marathon, and she could barely think.
He took a step back. He was still wearing his clothes, she noticed now. The expression on his face was strange. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wounded him somehow.
“Mia,” he said wearily, “just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean that I’m going to hurt you in any way, much less kill you.”
“You’re not?”
She had difficulty processing this. Ever since she’d laid eyes on him at the club, she’d been so certain that she would not survive the discovery.
“Of course not,” he said, still looking at her with that strange expression. “You betrayed my trust tonight, but you were drunk and stupid –”
Mia blinked. Something didn’t add up.
“– and I should have known better than to let you out like that on a Saturday night.”
She stared at him in confusion, hardly daring to hope. “You’re upset that I went out clubbing?”
“Upset is a very mild term for what I feel right now,” he said quietly. “You let that pretty worm put his hands all over you, and you kissed him right in front of my eyes. No, Mia, upset doesn’t even begin to approximate it.”
He didn’t know.
Her knees almost buckled in relief, and she grabbed the shower wall for support. As unbelievable as it seemed, his anger tonight was due to misplaced jealousy and had nothing to do with the Resistance movement.
It was a mind-boggling realization, and Mia desperately wished that she could think past the fog that seemed to permeate her every thought. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “I’m sorry,” she said cautiously. “I didn’t think you’d care if I went out tonight. I just wanted to have fun with Jessie and . . . I didn’t think you’d care either way. I wasn’t going to do anything but dance, I swear . . .”
