Page 15 of Ice Cold Christmas
“Thought I heard you,” he rumbled in the deep and dark voice that seemed to sink straight through her. Anger flashed in his eyes, igniting the darkness and stealing her breath. Victor was intimidating and dangerous, and he’d kissed her like he’d been starving for her. Something that made no sense. None at all.
But, evidently, Victor was the one in control at the mansion. Not Sebastian. Not Dario. Victor. The others seemed to follow his commands. And if she wanted to stay…
Then Victor had to be on her side.
Hell. She grabbed the bottom of her sweater, and she lifted it up. She yanked the sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor. “I have the scar.” Her hand gestured toward her right shoulder. “Happy now?”
His eyes widened. Then they dropped—they dropped to her right shoulder. To the curve where a faded, white line cut across her skin. The scar on her shoulder pointed toward her collar bone.
But his gaze didn’t stop on her collar bone. Instead, that dark gaze of his went down…down to the long scar that cut across her stomach. A slash that wasn’t quite as faded as the one on her shoulder because it was far more recent.
“What in the fuck…” Victor began.
“Hey!” A shout from behind him. Dario. “What’s happening?” The shuffle of footsteps. Then he was shoving his head—followed by his whole body—out of the doorway. “Holy shit, is she stripping?”
A growl broke from Victor even as he surged toward Melody. His arms wrapped around her, and he hauled her forward, shielding her with his body. Curling himself around her. “Get the fuck back inside!” Victor blasted.
“You love that word,” she murmured, even as a shiver skated over her. “I think fuck must be your favorite.”
He said it again, and she wondered if he’d done it just for her, but then he was yanking off his shirt. Shoving her arms into it. Buttoning it crookedly and then, what in the world?
Victor lifted her into his arms. Started carrying her back toward the staircase.
“What is happening?” Dario yelled after them. “You tossing her out?”
Fear coiled within her. “Don’t.” A breath. “Please.”
“You’re not going any fucking place. You’ll stay here. You’ll stay with me.”
Aw, he’d said the fucking magic word again.
Then, louder, Victor announced, “I’m taking Melody back to bed. She’s tired, and she’s confused.”
She was tired. She was not confused. Well, maybe a bit. Why do I feel so strange each time Victor touches me?
“Tell everyone to get to bed!” Another command from Victor as he mounted the stairs. Mounted them carrying her and the man wasn’t even slightly out of breath. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Shouldn’t you be kicking her ass out?” Dario’s steps followed them.
Victor stopped midway up the staircase. His gaze fell to collide with hers.
Melody held her breath.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Victor said, and the words were a vow.
Her arm lifted and curled around his neck. It was a tentative movement, one mostly borne out of fear because she worried that he might drop her. But at her touch, he stiffened. His hold became even stronger, even more determined, and then he was double-timing it up rest of the stairs with her. He didn’t stop, not until they were back in her guest room. He kicked the door shut behind them. Stood just beyond the threshold with her in his arms.
His shirt felt soft against her skin. It carried his scent. Masculine. Woodsy. Her nostrils flared as she drank in that scent. There was something familiar about it. Comforting? Her head tilted a bit closer to him. She almost put her head on his shoulder, but stopped at the last second. He wasn’t some sort of safe port for her.
What on earth was she thinking? He was dangerous. Everyone in that massive house was dangerous. She couldn’t trust any of the people there.
Melody cleared her throat. “Are you satisfied now?”
“This is not my fucking satisfied face.”
She peeked up at him. Nope, he did not look satisfied. Far from it.
“Though you do know that face.”
