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And I hear Ralph click the safety back on his gun.
“Good dog,” snarls Ralph viciously as I hear the soldier clamber to his feet. Nobody’s laughing now. “Now finish your fucking security sweep and then get out.”
My heart sinks as I hear the men mobilize again.
That window of opportunity has closed.
My throat runs dry as I hear the bathroom door open in the distance. Now footsteps approach the closet door. Amelia’s still draped all over me, but I rip her off me now, drag her towards a hiding place behind Ralph’s suits. I can’t let them enter the closet and find her. Best option now is to explode through the door with both guns blazing, make sure I close the door behind me before I go down, do my best to take Ralph out before my lights go out.
And then suddenly I see white light move past me, hear Amelia’s whisper like wind against my cheek.
“Trust me, Zedd. Stand behind me. Follow my lead. Don’t draw your weapon. Trust me.”
Then I realize it’s not white light moving past me but a white dress.
A wedding dress.
Amelia rushes past me.
And flings open the closet door before I can stop her.
17
AMELIA
“What the fuck?” says Ralph Romero as I stand there in my crumpled wedding dress, crooked veil, tennis shoes on my stockinged feet, boobs almost hanging out of my bra because of the weight of the handgun sticking out of my cleavage. “No, seriously, what thefuck!”
Honestly, I have no idea what.
What I’m doing.
What I’m thinking.
What I’m feeling.
All I know is that some instinct in me stopped Zedd from bursting through the door to what would have been his death. It probably would have saved my life, but that’s not good enough.
Not when there’s a chance to end this our way.
“Hi, Ralph,” I say, straightening my veil, somehow finding my voice. Zedd’s behind me now, and I spread my arms out wide, blocking the closet door, protecting him with my body, praying he trusts me enough to follow my lead.
Even though I’m not sure exactly where I’m going.
But my intuition is buzzing, my body whispering to keep going, that my brain will eventually catch up to this plan hatched by the woman in me.
The woman who noticed how Zedd’s jealousy had been triggered by even thesuggestionthat another manmighthave had me.
There’s something about competing for a woman that gets an alpha man’s blood boiling, makes him want that woman with desperate urgency, a violent possessiveness that’s far beyond simple attraction. I remember reading some psychological studies about it, social scientists speculating on how those fundamental drives of sex and violence played out over two million years of evolution, most of which was spent in a brutal struggle for survival and reproduction, when dating meant killing the other caveman because you wanted to fuck his cavewoman.
Now it all comes back to me in a rush, and my brain starts to catch up with my intuition. Yes, there’s something in how sexual competition has evolved in humans that makes a man yearn to fuck a woman he knows is already taken, has just been taken. A primal drive to flood her with his seed so that his swimmers compete against the other guy’s sperm deep inside her pussy, taking competition to a different level, a deeper level.
Zedd understands it too—he’s muttered something about how the bulbous protrusion of a man’s cockhead is designed to scoop out any other sperm that might already be inside a woman’s vagina. The in-out thrusting motion sucks out another man’s semen so that the alpha can flood his woman’s precious womb with his own powerful seed, breed her with his genes, pass on his own line.
It’s savage as sin, primal as pain, filthy as fuck.
But it rings true, and I see it in Ralph Romero’s eyes, the way his gaze flicks involuntarily to my cleavage, then darts towards Zedd towering above me from behind like a guardian, a protector, a possessor.
Clearly the sheer insanity of seeing the Volini mafia princess burst out of a closet in a wedding dress has thrown the entire room of gangsters into shocked confusion. But the shock lasts only a second, and now every Romero soldier whips out his weapon and points it at Zedd.
