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But where the devil is Adrian? And more to the point, where is my princess? I rake my gaze across the room, then spot Adrian waving at me from the far corner near the stairs. I shoulder my way through the crowd. The heat presses down on me, the press of bodies pushes me in on all sides, and by the time I reach him, a sheen of sweat covers my brow.
"Where is she?" I snarl.
He jerks his chin up the stairs. "Last door on the left."
He’s barely completed the sentence before I’ve turned and taken the steps, two at a time. I burst onto the landing of the floor, then race down the corridor until I reach the last door on the left. I thrust my shoulder into the door, which swings open. Two spotlights cast their glow on the couple at the back of the semi-dark room.
She is tied to a St. Andrews cross which is attached to the wall. She’s spreadeagled, her arms and legs pulled apart, with her wrists and ankles tied to the cross. She’s wearing a thin blouse, through which her nipples are clearly visible. It dips at her cleavage. Her skirt is bunched around her thighs, high enough the white of her panties is visible. A man walks around her, coming to a stop at her side. He reaches out to finger a strand of her hair, and anger squeezes my gut. The blood thumps at my temples, my vision tunnels, and a red haze drops over everything. I hear a growl, then realize it’s coming from me. Both of them must hear it, too, for they glance toward the door. Even in the dim light, I can see the shock on her face, quickly followed by guilt.
I bare my teeth. She opens and shuts her mouth. I close the distance to thestronzowho glances between us. He’s shorter than me, somewhat muscular, but with a middle that’s flabby.
"Now hold on here." He thrusts out his chest. "This is a private session; this is—"
I bury my fist in his face.
22
Elsa
Seb punches the guy— Is his name Desmond? Dillon? Dixon, maybe? —and I hear a crunch. Ouch. I wince. That must hurt.
Desmond/ Dillon/ Dixon staggers back and slams into the wall. "Ow. ow. Ow." He wails, "What was that for?" He clutches at his face as blood drips from his nose, down his chin, and splatters onto his shirt.
Seb merely closes the distance to him, grabs him by his collar, and hauls him to his feet. "Get out and stay out. If I see you near my fiancée I’ll kill you, motherfucker, you get me?"
"Hold on," the man protests, "this was consensual; she asked me to dominate her; she—"
Seb moves so quickly, his movements seem to blur. The next moment, he’s pushed a gun into the center of the man’s forehead, who freezes.
"You will not come near her again, you feel me? You will not breathe the same air as her. You will not look at her. You will not come within a hundred feet of her.Capisce?"
His gaze widens.
"Get the fuck out before I empty this gun in your face." Seb steps back and the man rushes past him and heads to the door, which slams behind him. The music from the nightclub, which had crept into the room, cuts out again.
Silence follows. A beat. Another. Seb stands where he is, still facing the wall. He stalks over to the door and locks it.
My nerves stretch as I wait for him to make a move. I wait for him to say something, anything… When I can’t bear it anymore, I clear my throat.
"Seb?" I say softly.
He flinches, but doesn’t reply.
"Seb, I’m sorry."
He swings around to face me, the gun pointed at me now. I glance from the barrel to his face. His features are set in stone. The light from above reflects off of his eyes. They seem to glow a golden-orange, lion-like. He takes a step forward, and another, until he’s standing in front of me.
He still hasn’t said a word. He rakes his gaze down my features, my breasts, pausing at my belly, then between my thighs.
"Did you take it out?" he asks in a soft voice. There’s no hint of emotion, nothing in his tone gives away how he’s feeling. His shoulder muscles are bunched under his jacket, and his biceps seem to have gotten even bigger, if that’s possible.
When I don’t answer, he repeats himself. "Did. You. Take. It. Out?" he growls.
"N-no." I swallow, but that doesn’t help the dryness in my throat. "You told me not to."
"I also told you not to go anywhere without my permission."
"Oh." My muscles tremble like a jolt of electricity has zapped through my nerve endings.
