Page 86 of High Sea Seduction

“Fuck you,” I say. The feeble power in my voice bolsters me a little. “Fuck you! Fuck you!FUCK YOU!”

“Dammit, Dorian. This again?”

I jerk at the bored, disembodied drawl. The murmurs from behind the curtain stop, and that scares me even more than anything that’s gone on so far.

“That’s fucking strike two. You know what happens should you commit a third foul,” continues the voice.

Dorian/Leo shakes his head. “She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Did you not invite her?” the voice queries.

“Yes, I did, but?—”

“And what do the rules say, Dorian?”

His jaw clenches tight for a minute, and terror slashes across my every nerve. “‘One for all. Free for all.’”

“Prepare your guest, Dorian. If you can’t calm her down, help will be provided. But remember, that’ll be a third count against you.”

The voice shuts off and a feed that sounds like a radio’s echo sounds through the room before the voices rise again.

Leo raises his head and I see determination in his eyes. I shake my head as he advances toward me.

“No! God, please, no! Leo, stop this. You don’t have to do this.”

He reaches me and grabs my arms. “Dammit, Keely. Shut the fuck up!”

I fight with renewed strength. Whatever he’s planning to do to me, I don’t intend to make it easy for him.

“You weak, fucking pathetic asshole! Why did I think you were even worthy of onesecondof my time?” I snarl, my voice shaky with terror.

“That was your mistake, not mine.” His fingers dig into me as he hauls me toward the chair.

I kick and scratch and spit. Some blows connect. Some hurt me more than they hurt him. My knee catches a sharp corner of the chair and it doesn’t move. I realize it’s bolted to the floor, and I fight harder. Leo’s shirt rips beneath my frantic effort to escape my reality. The stench of blood and fear gags me as I’m thrown into the chair.

That’s when my screams finally step up to the plate and put in the performance of a lifetime.

I’m hoarse by the time the first rope snakes around my calf.

The radio feed slices through the air again, and I hear a sigh. “That’s it, Dorian, you’re out. Space Cadets, step in and secure our guest,” the voice says.

Leo freezes, then shuts his eyes for a sick little second. “I warned you, Keely. You should’ve listened.”

25

MASON

Nothing will ever compare to the black rage that has lived in my soul since Toby died. I feed it, constantly and affectionately, to ensure it thrives. It has become the central nervous system that dictates each moment in my life.

Thus far, I’ve believed that I have no room in my life for anything else.

And yet, as I listen to the words falling from Keely’s lips, an expanse shifts within me, a cavern widening itself to accommodate the sweet agony of new, undiscovered rage.

She stops suddenly and flinches.

I jerk back into myself and realize my fingers are digging into her hip. I let go, flex my fingers, but I don’t feel right. This rage is different. It drills into me with a relentless single-mindedness that makes thinking an impossibility. I can’t catch my breath, and it slowly dawns on me that I’m not as calm as I was when I set out to avenge my son’s death.

My vision is blurred with red rain, and I can’t tell whether I’m sitting or floating.

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