Two of his men surrounded me, keeping watch while Alexander lunged toward the assailant taking swing after swing. There were no questions asked, my captor and savior not interested in learning why the stranger attacked me.
The assailant rallied, spinning and kicking, catching Alexander in the chest. But the brutal kick wasn’t enough, Alexander grabbing and twisting the man’s arm. Even over the loud music, I heard the distinct crack as the assailant’s arm was snapped.
Howling, the masked man didn’t stop, still fighting. A flash caught my attention and I screamed, but Alexander caught his other arm, smashing his hand into the wall several times until the weapon tumbled over the iron railing to the concrete floor below.
I fought my way past the two soldiers, fighting to keep from screaming.
Several additional punches were thrown until Alexander had the assailant by the throat, tossing him halfway over the railing. “You will die for touching her.”
“Alexander!” My yell echoed in the stairwell. Without breaking his hold on the masked man, Alexander turned his head toward me.
For a split second it seemed as if he was listening to me. His features softened, but it was the look in his eyes that kept me breathless.
But I was obviously wrong.
He lifted the assailant over the edge as if the man weighed nothing, tossing him like a ragdoll.
“No!” The horror of what I’d just witnessed pivoted me forward. I gripped the railing with both hands, staring down at the man’s twisted body, his neck obviously broken. I was shocked, unable to feel anything. Unable to move.
“Catherine.” The softness of Alexander’s voice was such a contrast to what I’d just seen that I couldn’t respond. There were no words to express the way I felt.
Numbness tricked me into silence, only able to take shallow breaths.
“Catherine. Look at me.” His voice was more insistent.
“No,” I managed.
“Search his body then get rid of it.” His bark to his men was in contrast to the tone used with me. Two sides. Jekyll and Hyde.
What was happening?
When Alexander touched the side of my face, I flinched and moved away. “Don’t.”
“Come on, my angel. It’s over.” He tried again and I reacted as any normal human being would.
“I’m not your goddamn angel. I’m not your anything. Except your fucking prisoner! Don’t you touch me. Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” I’d never been so enraged. Backing away, I almost tripped on the top stair. As soon as he reached out to steady me, I recoiled strongly enough he narrowed his eyes. “How could you do that? How? Why?”
He took a step closer and I took a long stride farther away, doing everything I could to avoid touching him. Because I knew what would happen as soon as I did.
Unable to control my breathing, I slapped one hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. My nerves on edge, I took a quick look down the empty corridor. Two of his other men were keeping anyone from partaking in the spectacle.
Or just ensuring I couldn’t run away.
His sigh heavy, to Alexander’s credit he remained where he was. “If that man had managed to take you from this building, there is a good chance I’d never see you again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He slowly lifted his head, the overhead light in the stairwell allowing me to see the pain and concern in his eyes.
“You killed him.”
“Yes, because I had to. I would do anything to keep you safe.”
“Including murder.”
He grumbled something under his breath, his entire expression changing to the cold ugliness that everyone feared. Except for me. The hint of frustration I’d seen one too many times followed, his exasperation increasing. “Yes. Including murder.”
The spell had been shattered, the one that allowed me to believe for two strangely beautiful days that Alexander Prince could be just a normal guy, passionate and demanding yet allowing me to feel so alive. Now I knew him for what he was, a killer. I could no longer hide behind the veil even if I wanted to.
But the words, the warning that the man who’d attacked me lingered in my mind. There was fear, not of what he’d done or what would happen to me, but of losing him. Oh, God. What did that say about me? What was wrong with me? How could I care about a man who’d just murdered someone in front of me?
