Page 4 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
“I’ve run out of patience. Tell me where it is.”
“I can’t.” Slipping her left hand behind her, she extended her arm. “What is it that you want from me?”
“Do what I tell you… Or I will choke the life out of you. Here and now. I have nothing to lose.”
Her fingers closed around the pen.
“I have nothing for you,” she cried.
He cupped her chin in his rough fingers. Revulsion rippled through her.
“Liar.” His words seemed a low growl. “I need the bloody map.”
“Map?” She pulled in a gasp of air. “I…I don’t know what—”
“Give it to me.” His fingertips dug into the tender underside of her jaw. Holding back a cry, she winced against the pain.
His thick neck offered a vulnerable target. Her pulse roared in her ears at the sickening thought.
Clutching her makeshift weapon tight in her hand, she hesitated. For a heartbeat, no more.
She had no choice.
With a quick, savage motion, she plunged the pen into his flesh.
At the last second, he jerked away. The silver nib pierced his skin. Slammed into his collar bone.
Blood bubbled up around the weapon as a hoarse cry escaped his throat.
Suddenly, he stilled. Silent. Dazed.
His lids shuttered his eyes.
Alex battled the horror that threatened to overwhelm her.
God above, have I killed him?
Uttering a raw cry, he opened his eyes and clawed at the implement, wild as a beast in a snare. A horrid sound escaped his throat, a cross between an animal’s cry of misery and a moan of despair.
His fingers closed around the pen.
He tore it from his body.
Hurled the bloodied barb to the floor.
Adrenaline and terror coursed through her veins.
Slamming the heels of her hands against his chest, she gave a hard shove and bolted past him. He reared around, capturing her in an unyielding hold.
Her arms pinned to her sides, she struggled wildly to escape. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a shadowed figure prowling noiselessly into the room.
A man. Tall and lean, he moved stealthily toward her. Keeping to the periphery of the room, away from the faint light streaming in from the corridor.
Darkness obscured his features. Even in silhouette, it was clear from the breadth of his shoulders and the boldness of his movement that he was a powerful man. Carrying a long, blunt object in his hand, he stalked soundlessly toward the oaf who imprisoned her in his rough hands.
Moving closer with each stride.
Near enough to strike.
