Page 70 of Emperor of Corruption
Locke opens the car door for me, staring down at me impassively. When he gets a good look at my expression, whatever it is, his eyes softeneverso slightly.
“Come on,” he says. “Killian will take care of you.”
“I’d really like to go home.”
His only response to that is offering me his hand. I sigh and accept it, letting him pull me up and walk me into the apartment building. He rides the elevator to the top floor with me, and flashbacks of the last time I was here—when Killian coerced me into dinner anddruggedme—flash through my mind.
But what just transpired in the alleyway was worse—so muchworse.
The elevator door slides open with a ding that makes me jump. Killian is standing in the doorway, dressed down in grey sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt that accentuates every bit of his muscular torso. He looks strong, warm, and oddly,safe. Logically, I know he isn’t, butemotionally…
He steps into the elevator, gently wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into his apartment. I bury my face in his shirt andsob, letting all the terror and pain pour out of me. He absorbs it like a sponge, stroking his hand through my tangled hair while murmuring something to Locke under his breath. I hear the elevator door slide closed behind me, but I don’t want to abandon the warmth of Killian’s arms.
He's the most dangerous individual in my life; he’s done worse things to me than those men in the alleyway, and yet, right now he feels like the only stretch of land in an otherwise endless stormy sea.
He lifts me up into his arms bridal style, and starts carrying me through his apartment. I rest my cheek against the hard planes of his chest, fists buried in his shirt, heedless that I’m covering the material with tears, snot, dirt, and blood. I’m a mess right now, and perversely, Killian King—my tormentor—is the one who’s holding me together.
He moves to set me down somewhere, and I clutch him tighter in a panic.
“Easy, Lyra. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to look you over.” He carefully sets me down on a cold, hard surface—acounter, I realize. Abathroomcounter. Gold-dusted white marble greets me from every direction, gleaming in warm light. The shower is glass enclosed, there’s a bathtub large enough to host an orgy, and a counter large enough for six people to use it simultaneously.
Killian wordlessly begins to peel away my shirt, lifting it over my head. My arms fall limply by my sides, and his eyes fill with menacewhen he sees the dark bruises already blooming across my abdomen, coming from the two punches I took.
“They will die inagonyfor what was done to you,” he says. The words are dark and deadly, a vow sealed in the promise of violence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”
I blink blearily. “Why… why wasLockethere?”
Killian pulls me off the counter to tug my pants down, not bothering to respond. My hands land on his shoulders when he helps me step out of them. “Killian—why was your guard dog in downtown Manhattan at 11p.m.?”
Killian rises to his full height. “You don’t want the answer to that, do you?”
My temper flares. “I deserve it.”
Killian examines me for several moments. “He was there because I told him to follow you. After the incident with you and Rhea meeting in private without my knowledge, I figured it’d be a good idea to have you monitored to make sure you didn’t do anything else that was stupid.”
My stomach bottoms out, and vague nausea rises up. Bile coats my tongue.
Locke has been watching mefor weeks. Does he watch me in myapartment? Oh God, if he does, then he knows about my second laptop and phone.Oh fuck oh fuck oh—
Wait. If he knew, I’d already be neck-deep in trouble with Killian. I might even bedead.
A soft breath whooshes out of my lungs. No, he doesn’t know about those things, but he knows about a lot. My routine at work, the train I take home, the places I get coffee from…
Killian slides his palms up my thighs. I shove him away. “Don’t touch me!”
Herolls his eyes. “Calm down. You can’t blame a tiger for his stripes, or a wolf for his teeth. Putting Locke on you was more for your protection than it was mine.”
He cups my chin and angles my head upward; I slap away his hand. “Fuck off!”
“Lyra.” His tone has hardened into the same one he uses when he’s about to spank me until I’m crying. “Don’t fight me right now. I’m not going to hurt you, and I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Then whatdoyou want?” My voice cracks.
He blinks slowly, brows furrowing, as if he hadn’t thought about it yet. “I want to take care of you.” The words come out like a question—not to me, but to himself, as if he can’t understand what he’s doing. “Bottom line; some fuckers were stupid enough to put their hands on you. The only person allowed to put their hands on you isme.I am going to deal with them accordingly, but in the meantime, I’m going to look after you.”
I swallow. “But you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. Never did. Would I chase after someone I hate as much as I’ve chased you?” he arches an imperious brow. “For whatever ridiculous reason, Ilikeyou.”
