Page 6 of Trapping His Angel

She was there, standing at the doorway, her figure shrouded in shadows. Her hair fell wild around her shoulders, her steps slow and deliberate as she moved barefoot, toward the hall. My pulse spiked.

“Isadora,” I called, my voice rough, barely above a whisper. She didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back. Something about the way she moved, graceful but detached, like she wasn’t entirely there, set my teeth on edge.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. She was leaving, walking out of the room, and I wasn’t about to let her disappear into the night. Not her. Not my Isadora. She said she would be good, but she was being a naughty girl. How dare she leave without my permission?

Dragging myself to my feet, I stalked after her; the adrenaline burning away the haze of exhaustion. “Isadora,” I growled, louder this time, my voice echoing down the empty hall. Still, she didn’t respond. Her steps were steady, her arms slack at her sides, her head tilted slightly forward, as if she were being pulled by some invisible force.

I reached her in seconds, my hand shooting out to grab her wrist. Her skin was cold and clammy. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I hissed, yanking her back toward me.

She turned, her eyes half-lidded, unfocused.Sleepwalking.

Her lips moved, barely forming words. “I… I’ll be good. I s-swear I’ll be good.” Whimpering cries sounded from her throat.

“What the hell?” I spat, tightening my grip on her wrist. She tried to pull away, weakly, her body resisting without purpose, without thought. It pissed me off more than it should’ve; her helplessness, her lack of fight.

“You’re not going anywhere,”I growled, my voice sharper now. “You belong to me. Do you hear me, Isadora? To me.”

Her only response was a soft murmur, something incoherent, her head lolling slightly to the side. The sight of her like this, lost, vulnerable, sent a sharp jolt of anger coursing through me. Not at her, but at whatever part of her mind thought it was safe to wander away from me, even unconsciously.

I moved quickly, wrapping one arm around her waist and lifting her off the ground, as she struggled weakly against me. Her nails scraped against my forearm, but it was like she didn’t even know what she was doing. I carried her back toward the bedroom, her body rigid against mine, her breathing shallow.

“Stop fighting me,” I demanded, my voice low, venomous. “You’re going back to bed, whether you like it or not.”

She whimpered softly, the sound barely audible, but it cut through me like a blade. I ignored it, shoving the door open with my shoulder, and kicking it closed behind us.

When I reached the bed, I dropped her onto the mattress, not gently, not carefully, but with just enough force to make her still. Her body sank into the sheets, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Stay,” I ordered, my tone leaving no room for argument. I pressed my hands to her shoulders, pinning her down, as her body writhed faintly beneath me. “You don’t get to leave, Isadora. Not now. Never.”

Her eyes fluttered, a flicker of consciousness breaking through the haze. For a moment, she stared at me, wide-eyed and confused, her lips parting as if to speak.

I leaned in close, my breath hot against her ear. “You’re mine, Isadora,” I whispered, my voice a dark promise. “Even when you’re asleep. Do you understand?”

She nodded weakly, her body going limp beneath my hands.

Good.

I stayed there for a moment longer, my grip firm, makingsure she wouldn’t move again. When her breathing evened out, and her eyes finally closed, I released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed.

I slid my cock back inside of her, whispering my love while I thrummed her clit, roughly flicking her to a passionate release. As she throbbed her orgasm all over my cock, I came deep inside of her. In the aftermath, I felt her walls squeeze my dick in time with my migraine.

The throbbing in my skull settled after a while, to a dull ache that I welcomed now. It reminded me I was alive, that she was safe, and that no matter what haunted her dreams, I would be there to pull her back. Even if I had to do it savagely.

CHAPTER TWO

ISADORA

“Lick her clit, Isadora,” Headmaster Mikhail ordered, as I held one of my sisters down in front of him on his desk. “Think of it as wife training,” he sneered.

Tears filled my eyes. “N-no.” I could feel nausea welling into my throat.

He sighed. “Back in the tomb for you.”

He dragged me back down into the catacombs as I screamed, clawing at his hands, and yanking my hair. He threw me into the tomb, my body bouncing off the bones in it.

The sounds of the rats’ claws, as they made their way toward me, echoed in my mind. They crept closer, and I heard the slithers. When the rats came, so did the snakes. After all, predators loved their warm-blooded prey.

How much more could I endure before I lost my will to fight completely?

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