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While I shrank, my weak, minuscule slaps and kicks meant nothing at all.
Chapter Nine
Rafe
I tried not to stare at the clock on my office wall for the umpteenth time. With ten minutes to go to our date, I closed my laptop and stopped. Actually ceased working and didn’t do anything but go through the night I planned for her. Fifteen minutes after she should have arrived, I began to toy with my phone. She’d never once been late, but maybe traffic across town had been tight. Maybe her kids hadn’t settled for her. Maybe she wasn’t coming.
I threw that last thought out the window. Willow traded texts with me all day to my greatest distraction, and I loved it. I scrolled through them, but nothing gave me any indication she intended to stand me up. Most had a playful tone … no, something must have come up. I tapped my fingers on the underside of my desk and stared at the door, willing her to walk through it.
My fingers grazed the desk drawer that held the slim, black box. If things went well, I would offer her to be my submissive in our playtime hours. Her children formed part of her package deal, which meant I could maybe claim boyfriend status … for now. One day, there would be a second black box in my desk drawer, a little smaller.
I checked the clock again.
Willow was thirty minutes late. I drilled my fingers into the desktop as the second hand made another full rotation and then sent off a message.
Are you safe? Getting worried for you. Don’t stress if it’s family stuff. I’ll be here.
I almost addedworking, but that would be a lie.
The message sat there, unopened. I put my phone down and picked it up again. Finally, I hitcall, but it went straightto her voicemail. Frustration rose in me, and I pushed it down. A message to know she was all right would be great. I shoved my phone into my back pocket and headed for the main floor. Maybe I could ply myself with alcohol and watch the door until she arrived. Then … then I’d get on my knees and grovel for her to be mine.
I paused at the door to my office and inhaled a long, slow breath. Barging in on her walking down the back corridor would scare her, give her reason to run from me, and I couldn’t bear for that to happen a second time.
The door opened into an empty corridor. I made it to the bar unaccosted by my pretty little quokka before Killian found me. His hand locked in a tight grip on my arm. “Room four. Have you got a key?” He stared at me with wild eyes, dragging me toward the stairs to the lower level.
“What?” I stared at him, my lip half curled. “What’s got your panties all twisted up?”
“Willow. She arrived, and someone saw her go downstairs.”
“What?”
“The keys for four are missing, and the camera is off in that room. It’s locked, and we can’t see a damn thing.”
“What?”
“Did you plan a playdate with her down there tonight?” Killian’s brown eyes begged me to say yes.
I shook my head. “I told her never to go down there again. Not with me or anything else. Not after—”
“Fuck.”
“Are her things in the locker room?”
“I’ll check.” Killian raised his hands, palms out.
“Good.” I turned toward the stairs and leapt the first few.
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t bother to answer as I hit the ground in a fewstrides and charged straight for the door.
The lower-level rooms were lockable and soundproofed, but that didn’t mean they were impenetrable. Every room contained cameras, and every door wasn’t quite as sturdy as they appeared for exactly this sort of circumstance.
I put my shoulder down and hit the door at a run. It burst open and flew back. I stumbled into the room and stared into the horrific, mad mind of Martin Lansdown.
My little quokka lay spread-eagled on a small table, fully transformed. Every soft piece of flesh had been pinned by a needle. My fingers shook as I plucked the first free, making sure to start at one side and work in a circle. If I knew Martin’s handiwork—and sickeningly, I did—he used a pressure point around the neck area to force the change in a shifter.
“Nice of you to burst in on our private moment.” Martin spoke from behind me.
