Page 8 of Dormeo
I can’t see anyone, but I can tell which direction their voices have come from. Even if they didn’t speak, I think I’d know; such is the power of their mere presence. As my body continues to awaken, my fear rises.
Where the hell am I?
My heart pounds, and I squirm, trying to will my useless body back to life faster. Reality is beginning to set in.
I’m helpless, vulnerable, and unable to move or defend myself, in a strange room and a strange place, with at least twomen, one of whom is already talking about taking me without my consent.
Run, Rose, run!
My breath comes out in ragged sputters as panic takes me in a chokehold. I’m completely at their mercy.
“Shh. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” The other man coughs, and I hear the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting soft flesh.
They’re not completely in agreement on that point.
“Yet,” the other voice corrects. “We’re in hell, Ash. You can’t guarantee her that.”
I whimper, but my fingers tingle with the adrenaline flooding through my system.
Is that what’s happened? I’m dead, and I’ve been sent to hell for all the times I wished my father ill or had impure thoughts about the rugged horsemen who often visited our home.
“You’re not in hell.” He soothes. “But you’re not at home, either.”
Despite how vulnerable I feel, and how terrified, this man’s husky tones somehow soothe me, and as his shadow falls over me, I calm down.
His scent reaches me before I can even see him. He smells like smoke and whiskey.
My fists unclench, and my frantic attempts to rock myself across the mattress come to a halt. That was never going to work anyway, so there’s no point in ending up on the floor with a broken nose to make this day even worse.
A single tear falls from the corner of my eye as I stop fighting and screw my eyes shut tightly, confused and scared.
“Look at me.” He demands, and the other one, the mean one, chuckles when I keep my eyes firmly closed. “Look at me!”
When he barks the second order, my eyes fling open, and I squeal, before he slams a hand over my mouth to drown outthe sound. Leaning over me is not a man, but a massive horned creature, with rust-coloured eyes, and muscles layered upon muscles.
“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats.
“Unless you ask nicely,” the other one comments, chuckling. “You might reallyenjoybeing here soon.”
Black smooth skin covers thick muscle, and I can see the cords flexing underneath with every movement this big, scary man makes. Dark eyelashes frame his intense eyes as he studies my face, waiting to see if I’m about to freak out. I get a glimpse of strong, white teeth as he growls, a low rumble that passes all the way through my body, right down to my toes.
He comes dangerously close as he leans in, taking a lungful of my scent deep into his chest.
It feels intrusive, sensual, and when his chest vibrates even harder, the atmosphere becomes even more charged.
And yet, I say nothing, grateful my paralysed body can’t react properly, and carefully weigh up my limited options. Now is the time to assess the precarious nature of my situation with a calm head, not run screaming.
“Where am I? Why am I here?” Much as the next part pains me, mentioning him might be my best chance of getting out of here, unscathed. “Where is my father, Lord Farly?”
He stoops down so I can see him properly from my prone position.
“Most certainly not here,” he says dryly.
I can feel the heat radiating off his rock-hard body, even through his thin shirt, and when his arm brushes mine, I startle. Liquid warmth spreads through my veins. Despite the dim lighting and dark shadows, it’s impossible to ignore the sheer size and impressive physique of this man.
“You’re in my bed,” he states simply, before adding, “You’re at the gates of hell, little one, and currently at my mercy.”
This is an apex predator if I ever saw one. Even if I was able to move, I wouldn’t have a hope of getting away from him.
