“She’s fine,” a man whispers. His voice seems familiar, but at the same time, it doesn’t. Everything sounds far away but close. It’s a strange feeling and not something I can break free from, no matter how hard I fight to rise.
I mumble and fall back into the darkness I’ve been in for however long. At some point, I become aware again but can barely open my eyes.
“I don’t think it’s a good—” another man says through the murky depths.
“I don’t care what you thin?—”
Darkness.
I swim to the surface like I’m at the bottom of the ocean and running out of air. It’s right there, and yet, so far away. Something keeps pulling me down, preventing me from taking a full breath.
“Say, I do,” the first man whispers in my ear. Fingers trail over my forehead and down my temple in a loving gesture. I don’t understand why he’s touching me like that. I don’t know him.
I mumble again, not understanding what I’m saying.
“Open your eyes.”
My eyelashes flutter, fighting the sleep that holds me. Everything’s so blurry that it’s hard to make out the masculine face in front of me. All I see is tan and black. I jolt at the feeling of his lips on mine. His kiss is rough and demanding, with his teeth nipping my bottom lip. He smells like he ate candy corn before this.
I freeze in surprise. The man continues kissing me, urging me to respond with little nips here and there as his fingers tighten in the hair at the back of my head. He still seems familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
I shiver and attempt to pull away. Instead, I slump forward into his embrace and kiss him back. In my mind, I imagine it’s Jaxon because of the way he sucks my bottom lip and squeezes my ass cheek. He pulls away from my mouth and leaves a trail of kisses from my jaw to my ear.
“You’re mine,” he says huskily. “No one will take you from me.”
Then everything goes dark again.
Icome to, groggy and having a hard time opening my eyes. My eyebrows pinch together as I try to orient myself to my surroundings. The seat behind me moves with the familiar feeling of a car traveling over the road. I turn my head, staring out a window at the night whizzing by. Looking to the other side, I slowly blink to make sure what I see is right.
“Wh-who are you?” I whisper to the man wearing black clothes and a crimson demon mask.
The demonic form is made of my nightmares and the things I’ve been seeing. As we pass by the few headlights and streetlamps, it glimmers, exposing the black base colors and delicately carved designs that could be easily overlooked if one isn’t paying attention. Which I wasn’t in the elevator.
He doesn’t answer, only turns his head to look at me through the holes for his eyes. His skin underneath is dark, like he painted his face before he put on the mask. I wince at the annoyance in his bottomless eyes. He may as well have stabbed me because of how much that one glare affects me, and I don’t know why.
I lick my lips to moisten them. It doesn’t help. Swallowing to wet my dry throat doesn’t either. I don’t know what the hell this dude injected me with, but it’s messing with me still. Everything feels heavy, like I’m being pinned down with bricks stacked on top of each other.
I shift in my seat and slowly reach for the door handle. I won’t jump out of the car while we’re going eighty miles per hour, but when he slows down, I’ll tuck and roll. I just hope to god that I survive this.
“I don’t know what you want,” I slur. “But if I were you, I’d take me back right now before something bad happens to you.”
He turns his head, taking his creepy time about it. It reminds me too much of those eerie dolls that turn their heads by themselves and have a hard time doing it. Mirth shines in his gaze and crinkles the corners of his eyes from a hidden smile.
Okay. That’s annoying. Why isn’t he taking me seriously? Yeah, there isn’t much I can do at the moment, but if Jaxon doesn’t get to him first, then I’ll fuck him up by myself.
Keep telling yourself that, Dahlia, I chide in my thoughts.
Either way, he’s a dead man walking because there’s no way my brother will let him get away with this. My chest tightens until it hurts, and it becomes hard to breathe. I just hope Jaxon is alive and looking for me.
My kidnapper turns his attention back to the road and lowers his foot on the gas pedal. The engine purrs with the speed increase, and the streets fly past us in a blur.
“Don’t you fucking cry,” I whisper to myself. A lump forms in my throat, and I look out the window, hiding my tears from the stranger. I swallow hard a few times to clear my throat, and I try to be stealthy as I check my pockets for my phone. My shoulders slump and more tears sting my eyes. Allof my things are gone, including the ChapStick I carry with me everywhere.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice coming out clearer and less drunk.
He’s quiet, which pisses me off, but I’ll take anger over sadness any day. I cling to it until all I feel is rage and the need to beat his ass. Who the fuck does this man think he is? He clearly doesn’t know who I am or that his life is in danger because of my obsessed brother.
The rest of the drive is tense, and the small space electrifies me with a heady amount of fear and anger. Meanwhile, my kidnapper is sporting a boner. My hands tremble more from adrenaline than fear—which, yes, I’m scared, but I don’t plan on letting him take me to a second location without a fight.
