Page 88 of Cruel Master
Sad that it took him kidnapping me for us to finally talk about all this properly.
I go to draw a line on the page, and my pencil lead snaps. Right. It’s a sign. I’m getting nothing useful done any timesoon. I stand to investigate the replenishing chest when the door clicks.
He’s back. He only just left. Is it bad that not a single part of me is upset about it? I drop to my knees, but the look on Hadrian’s face as he enters the room freezes the smile on my face. Something is wrong. Really, really fucking wrong.
Hadrian is deathly pale, and he comes to a stop just inside the door and pauses, hand still resting on the door. He doesn’t close the door behind him, and his hand shakes as it falls to his side. All thoughts of protocol and training leave my head as I get to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me, and I cover the distance between us. When I reach him, I hesitate. His chest rises and falls as if he’s just run a marathon. “Hadrian? What is it?”
He doesn’t correct me on the use of his name. If that isn’t a red flag, then I don’t know what is. His voice is raspy. “You need to go. Out into the office. Now.”
I just look at him as my brain tries to process the words. I need to go? As in, just me? Without him? My mouth is suddenly dry. “I don’t understand.”
He rubs a hand through his hair, and it makes it stick up just like it used to. It could be funny, except nothing is funny about the expression on his face. It’s like he’s staring into his own coffin. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and grips my arms.
“Juliet. There’s no time to explain. Go. Now.” He glances around the cell before adding, “And take Charlie.”
The last instruction is what tips me over the edge from unease into terror. I shake out of his grasp, and he lets me go, hands dropping limp to his sides. “What the hell? Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
He shoots a glance up at the ceiling, and it sends a fresh shiver down my spine. I can’t see the cameras in here, but I know there are some—and I’d bet my fucking house he just looked at them. Someone is watching us. He can’t tell me what’s going on because someone doesn’t want him to.
Am I being paranoid? I’d love to say yes, but I don’t think so. I jump when Hadrian moves, storming over to Charlie’s tank and snatching it up. I’m frozen to the spot as he deposits it outside, then whirls back to face me.
This time, the lost look is gone from his face; there’s only resolve. “Out. Now.”
“No. I—”
He’s over to me in two strides, then wraps his arms around me and lifts me off my feet. For a second, I’m too stunned to struggle, but then I twist in his grip as he hauls me out of the door. Once we’re in the bare corridor, he sets me on my feet.
“What’s going on? Talk to me, please. We can—”
He grips my hair and pulls me in for a kiss.
I should fight it. I should, but there’s something so desperate about the way he’s holding me that I can’t make myself do it. He presses me to his hard chest, and I part my lips. I melt against his body as he kisses me roughly, the type of kiss that will leave my lips bruised. He tightens his grip in my hair, and the jolt of pain leaves my knees weak.
I wrap my arms around his back, clinging to him, though I’m not sure why. Everything about this is wrong, wrong,wrong. He breaks the kiss before I’m ready and stares into my eyes.
I gather enough breath to ask, “Hadrian, what’s—”
“I love you.”
What?
I’ve heard those words a million times before, but I never thought I’d hear them again. Now, there’s an ominous color tothem, and my stomach drops even further. It feels like goodbye. How can it? He kidnapped me. What the fuck is going on?
Before I get the chance to ask, Hadrian shoves me away. I stumble, drop to one knee to keep from face planting, and before I can get to my feet, he’s gone. The door to my cell slams shut, sealing him inside.
What the hell?
Why?
The metal door is smooth against my hand. I press my palm to the opening device, but it doesn’t even beep. I slam my hand against it and yell. “Hadrian. Hadrian! What the fuck? Let me in!”
It’s not completely lost on me that I’m demanding to be let back into my prison cell and that I might have lost my mind, but I don’t care. I can’t shake the feeling that if he doesn’t open that door, I’ll never see him again. My chest constricts, solid bands wrapping it.
No. I’ve only just got him back.
I get no response. Can he hear me? Probably not. I never heard a single sound when I was in my cell. I hammer the door again anyway, so hard it jars my wrist, before a sound distracts me. The click of a disengaging lock.
