Page 47 of Vengeful King

I try to pull my ankles away from the chair. It’s hard to get leverage; I can’t feel my binds loosening an inch. So I tug at my arms again and again, until I think I can feel something.

I hold my breath. I don’t want to imagine something is there when it’s not, but I feel something. Like the last time he tied me up, he didn’t do as good of a job. I pull again, and this time, I feel something loosen.

My pulse surges.I can get free.

The thought blinds me, deafens me to anything else. It’s real; it’s happening, and I need to act on it. Now.

I pull harder. The more I pull, the more I feel it loosen. Soon there’s a gap and I slide my left hand out, uncaring of the burn and pain when I yank it before it’s really free. I almost laugh when my hand jerks free. It takes all my control not to yell in triumph.

One hand is free. A second later, so is the other.

I have to run.

I don’t know whether to sneak out or just make a break for it. I have no idea where I am; I don’t think I’m at the club, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know what I’ll find when I leave the basement, much less the building. I could walk out into the middle of the city, or I could be in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get out.

As those thoughts swirl in my head, all I can do is shut everything out. I can’t wait to make a plan or sneak around. This might be my only chance to get out. I have to take it.

I make my way up the same stairs I’ve seen Lachlan climb so many times before. They’re wide and concrete, and my legs burn with each step. It feels like I haven’t stood or moved in weeks. The door to the basement is heavy, but unlocked. I open it just enough to slip through and dart up the rest of the stairs.

When I emerge, it’s nighttime. The room is dim. To my right are tall glass walls looking out toward a lush garden and backyard. To my left is a wall and a hallway. I’m standing right at the edge of a living room; there’s a large carpet laid over slick floors. The furniture is sleek, colorless. Every surface is clear or polished and reflective. It feels like I’m in a glass cage.

I can’t stick around and look. I turn the corner and find a hallway; I blindly follow it, running a hand along the wall to keep track of where I’m going. I turn left, then find a dead end. There’s another room, a workout room. I turn around and try the opposite direction.

It feels like I’ve been wandering forever. The more I turn, the more I feel like I’m in an endless maze. Panic is settling in my gut, fear rising in my blood. I have to get out. Every second I spend here, I’m in danger.

Finally, I turn and see a hallway leading to a door. I don’t think twice. I run for it, my steps almost silent, barely touching the ground. It feels like I’m flying.

My hand closes on the doorknob. I reign myself in, hold my breath. I turn gently, trying to stay quiet, hoping there won’t be any noise. Hoping I’m not opening the door to him.

But just as I’m pulling the door open, I feel a rough hand grab my arm. I look back fast, my head snapping around, and see Lachlan.

He caught me.

It happens in a flash and then my adrenaline surges, rushing through me like a wildfire. Every cell in my body screams at me to fight. I twist in his grip, a wordless cry of frustration leaving my lips. I can’t let him take me back. I won’t go back again.

I try to pull my arm away, but he drags me from the door. No matter how hard I try to grab for the doorknob, it slips out from my fingers. I try to catch the door frame; it’s just out of reach.

As much as I struggle, he’s too powerful for me to get away. I don’t want to make it easy for him, though. I struggle as much as I’m able, throw my hands and fists in every direction, trying to make this hard for him. I get a few hits in; I can feel them connect. I know it won’t hurt him. I just want to make this as much of a pain in the ass for him as it's been a nightmare for me.

He doesn’t have much trouble pinning me, tossing me over his shoulder. He’s pissed, all muscle and anger as he grapples with me. When he throws me over his shoulder, it’s careless. Like it’s no struggle at all. It’s an inconvenience to him.

He takes a few turns. I try to remember the way, even if I don’t know that it was the front door that I reached. He takes me up stairs, and I count each one. I watch hope disappear around a corner as he brings me to the second floor.

He opens a door and suddenly, he’s throwing me onto a bed.

His bed.

I know it’s his; it smells like him. Like the cologne that drew me in when I was in his office, when I was unable to resist him. The soft sheets and pillowy mattress feel incredible to my exhausted body.

But more than that, knowing I’m in his bed sends a rush through me. My limbs feel like they’re buzzing. Even though he hasn’t touched me except to pick me up, I’m already on edge. My body is already tuned to him.

Lachlan has always seemed controlled, almost cold. But he doesn’t look controlled or icy as he looks down at me. All I see in his eyes is heat.

And my body responds.

I’m getting wet despite myself. It’s infuriating.

Before I can react, he’s tearing my dress off. I can hear it rip, then feel it torn from my body. I’m so shocked that I don’t move. I just lie there, exposed.

---