Page 123 of Black Castle

“Sorry, what’s going on here?” Ian’s eyes shift from Zev to Vivienne, then to Zev again. “Is there a problem?” He looks back at Vivienne. “Do you know him?”

“I have a history here, so I don’t want to make a scene.” His tone is layered with something lethal, seeping into their skin. “And I’d hate to be forced to.” His eyes fall on Vivienne, and the storm roaring in the depths of his gaze makes her want to shrink and disappear. “Get up.”

“But—”

“Trust me, you don’t want me to repeat myself.”

Vivienne has never seen the worst of Zev or imagined the extremely wicked things he could be capable of. But somewhere at the back of her mind, she knows his threats can’t be so empty. It isn’t just a means to scare her into obeying his command. She feels like those are just things he can do without remorse. So, when she pulls her chair back and stands, she knows this is the best decision for not just her but for Ian, too.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” Ian proceeds to his feet, ready to defend. “Who is this man, Vivienne?”

Slamming his hands on the table, Zev narrows his eyes at Ian. “Take a step from where you are currently standing and you’ll not be walking ever again.”

His words are cold, laced with vice and a promise. Vivienne knows it, and she guesses Ian knows it too as, indeed, he doesn’t even take another step or dare to blink.

“Move,” Zev orders, his eyes fixing on Vivienne.

Vivienne can barely make any other bodily movement other than forcing her legs to move. She doesn’t even dare to glance back at Ian. Her eyes remain pinned on the exit door just a couple of steps ahead.

And the closer she gets to the door, the louder the voice at the back of her head echoes. How did he find her?

How the hell did he find her?

“Did you put a tracker on me?” Vivienne’s question shatters the heavy silence of the long-hour drive from the coffee shop to the apartment.

She has spent every second of this ride trying to dissect how he found her. And the only answer that makes sense is the fact that somehow, there might be a tracker placed on her. The possibility alone coils tight in her chest like a warning.

“I’m asking a question,” she presses when he doesn’t answer. “You’ve been tracking me. I just want to know why you feel the need to do so and since when has this been happening.”

Still, no answer.

She is glaring at him, but that’s hardly anything effective as his eyes are closed—has been closed the entire ride back to the apartment. His jaw keeps flexing, a vein pulsing at his temple.

He is fuming. But she doesn’t give a damn.

“Zev—”

“Get out.” His eyes are still shut, but his voice is razor-sharp, laced with barely restrained fury.

“Did you put a—”

She doesn’t get to finish the question. In the next breath, his presence engulfs her, his massive frame eclipsing the space between them. His fingers clamp around her throat, shoving her back against the door with a force that sends a shockwave through her spine. Pain cackles through her, sharp and electric.

“Now, listen to me and listen good. ” His words are a blade slicing through her resolve, gruff and layered with something wicked. His voice is hot, laced with the scent of dominance as it ghosts over her skin.

“You are going to get out of this car, go to the room, strip, and wait for me.” His fingers flex around her neck, a reminder that her life is just a fragile pulse beneath the weight of his fingers.

“Nod if you understand.”

Her heart hammers against her ribs, the pounding loud in the car’s suffocating silence. Fear curls in her stomach like smoke.

Finally, she nods, but his fingers linger around her throat before he finally lets go.

She scrambles for the door handle, her fingers shaking as she pulls at the silver lever and stumbles out. Her legs feel weak and wobbly as if she has taken too many shots of something potent. And the whisper of wind against her skin is a cruel reminder of how unsteady she is.

She glances ahead, and her eyes land on the soldier who always stands a couple of feet away from the entrance. Her cheeks tint in embarrassment, knowing even though he always seems unblinking, like a statue, he is watching her through his coal-black eyes; he is always watching.

She wonders what he thinks of her. The house might be sound proof but he must have heard something he didn’t wish to hear. She wonders if he sees more than a stupid high-school girl who gets railed against every surface in the house. Does he also think she is a dumb girl who foolishly got herself tangled up in a web of power and obsession? So, so naive she mistook darkness for love?

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