Page 39 of Taken Off Camera
I shake my head. “No, and he wouldn’t knock. He’d just use his key.”
Sebastian’s hands, gentle on my back moments ago, now grip my waist with sudden urgency as he lifts me off his lap and sets me on my feet. “Stay here.”
The transition from lover to protector happens so fast that it leaves me disoriented. “What are you?—”
“Stay. Here.” His tone brooks no argument, an Alpha command that straightens my spine on reflex.
His footsteps retreat across the apartment, leaving me standing in the kitchen, robe hanging open and body cooling in the aftermath of our shared pleasure.
The floorboards creak under Sebastian’s weight as he approaches the door, and for the first time, I hate how the blindfold renders me vulnerable in my own home. The lock clicks, the door opening, followed by Sebastian speaking to someone too low for me to catch the words.
A stranger responds, his response muffled.
The exchange lasts less than ten seconds before the door closes again, the deadbolt sliding back into place with a definitivethunk.
Sebastian’s footsteps return, accompanied by a rustling sound that puzzles me.
“Sebastian?” Feeling exposed in a way that hasnothing to do with my state of undress, I pull my robe closed. “What was that about?”
“There was a delivery for you,” he replies in a neutral way that raises the hair on my arms.
“At this hour?” I tilt my head, straining to identify the rustling sound. “Who delivers packages this late at night?”
Sebastian doesn’t answer right away. The rustling grows louder as he handles whatever was delivered. My fingers tighten on the belt of my robe, cold fingers of unease creeping up my spine.
“Sebastian?” I prompt again.
“It’s a package addressed to Elliot,” he says from near the dining table, accompanied by more rustling. “No return address.”
My stomach clenches. After the underwear incident, any anonymous package fills me with dread. “What’s inside?”
“Do you want me to open it?”
I swallow, my mouth drying. “Yes, and tell me what’s inside.”
The sound of packing tape being removed fills the apartment, the harsh rip loud in the tense silence. Paper rustles, followed by a soft thud of a package placed on the table.
Then, complete silence.
The quiet stretches, becoming its own form of torture. No footsteps, not even the sound of breathing reaches me from where Sebastian stands.
“Sebastian?” Worry fills me. “What is it?”
The silence continues, broken only by fabric moving, like something being wrapped.
Fear bubbles up, replacing the warmth of our earlier intimacy. “Sebastian? You’re freaking me out.” My fingers reach for my blindfold. “I want to take this off.”
“No.” The sharp word freezes me in place, then more gently, he adds, “I don’t want you to see what’s inside.”
Cold fingers of dread wrap around my spine. Whatever’s in that package is bad enough that Sebastian wants to shield me from it. My imagination runs wild, conjuring images each worse than the last.
Movement resumes, footsteps crossing to the door, then the sound of it opening and closing again.
Did Sebastian leave me alone in the apartment? Before panic can take complete hold, the door opens once more, and his familiar footsteps approach.
Warm hands grasp my shoulders, pulling me into a protective embrace. I cling to him, clutching at his sweater.
His arms wrap around me, one hand cradling theback of my head to his chest. “Have you been getting any strange packages lately?”
