Her furious eyes lock onto my hand, "Yes. I am."
"No. You're not. Sit the fuck down and eat." I'm playing with fire, pushing her too hard, but quite frankly, I don't care. She's going to cooperate whether she likes it or not.
"Fuck you," she starts to turn to escape again, but I'm on her before she makes it two steps, one hand around her waist and the other gripping the arm I already know would try to swing at me first. I forcefully deposit her back in the seat, narrowly escaping the pathetic blows she tries to throw at me. She shrieks at me, calling me a fucking asshole while I use a harsh grip on her shoulder to keep her in the chair.
She lands a single slap—hard—against my cheek, and before I realize what I've done, her long, silky hair is wrapped around my fist, freezing her fight completely. Her lids flutter as I tug on the strands, pulling her head back until she's staring up at me with glassy, hooded eyes, the gray and gold flecks disappearing as her pupils dilate. Her hands remain between us, against my chest, but not pushing me away. Certainly not pulling me closer, but utterly frozen in my harsh grip.
I beg my body not to look at her perfectly defined lips, not to watch as her chest rises and falls rapidly, not to catch the scent of arousal that neither one of us is equipped to face right now. But I notice everything she does, no matter how badly I wish I didn't. And the peaks of her perfect tits become harder and harder to ignore the longer we stay this close, breaths only inches away from each other.
Fury still radiates from her features, warring with her body's reaction to me. If I leaned forward just a bit, I could taste the rage coming right from the source. Could taste her delicious mouth again, force our tongues together in a dance so violent it steals the air from her lungs.
My hand flexes against my will, and a small whimper leaves her lips, sending a shiver through me and making my lower belly heat further, my cock growing painfully hard just from that tiny, pathetic, needy sound.
With more force than necessary, I release her hair, creating much-needed space between us and pointing at the food again before storming out of the kitchen, off to throw blows at a dummy downstairs. It's far less fun than fighting with Isla since the dummy can't hit back, but I also don't want to fuck it, so it'll have to do for now.
A handful of suspicious men have been waiting outside Isla's apartment since we left it two weeks ago. A frantic phone call from her stalker across the hall went out to his superiors when she didn't come home that night. From the camera I placed in her hallway, I could only hear his side of the conversation, but it certainly didn't sound good.I have no idea where she went. She vanished into thin air. Perhaps she went to Vegas again to see the one with two demons.
It's disconcerting to know that they still have eyes on Bel, Cas, and Fritz, but I'm sure they've learned at this point that the three of them are far more trouble than they're worth. Isla is the real prize, and they know it.
Which is why each day, another able-bodied man has subtly joined the fray, dressed like fucking frat boys and rich hipsters. A handful of them managed to even get into Isla's apartment, only barely missing Kyle throwing himself out the fire escape. Through the cameras, I watched them start to dismantle the few things we left behind, searching frantically for clues they sure as fuck won't find. Letting them take her things is probably going to add to the list of shit she'll never forgive me for, but maybe they'll take one of the cameras somewhere even more useful. Perhaps I'll even get lucky enough that they drop off one of the trackable ones in a compound. I'm not holding my breath for that to happen, but it would be nice to get a fucking win for once.
The longer I watch the false hipsters and frat boys, the more the niggling in my brain worries for Bel and Cas and Fritz.
They mentioned her onlyoff-hand,and really only because of her closeness to Isla. Still, paranoia gets the best of me, and I pick up the phone to dial the number of the demon in Vegas I can stand to listen to for longer than two seconds.
"Eamon," Caspian greets barely above a whisper. "Is everything alright?"
The one thing I've learned I can depend on Cas for is his no-bullshit attitude. After everything we've been through together, he knows damn well that if I'm calling, it's for good reason. He wastes no time getting to the point while somehow managing to hold a polite, aristocratic air about him.
"I'm fine. Everything isprobablyfine."
"But probably fine and definitely fine are certainly not the same thing," he supplies.
I nod, unsure if he needs to hear this or if it's something he already knows. "It looks like the Sanctum is still keeping an eye on the three of you. There don't seem to be any plans to make a move, but they're very aware of your presence there. It may be a good idea to make a change or lay low."
He sighs heavily, "Yes. I assumed that was a possibility. You don't think they're a direct threat to Bel any longer?"
A brief chuckle escapes me, "I think they've learned twice now that the trouble they'll get from your girl isn't worth any information they could get out of her. Isla's the one they want, the one they're focusing all their efforts into finding. For the time being, you guys are in the clear. I just wanted to touch base with you. Make sure you're keeping your eyes open."
"I appreciate that." He clears his throat, and the sound of rustling reaches my ears as he whispers to someone near him that he'll just be a moment. Sleepy, muffled giggles radiate through the line, followed by louder rustling and a small, feminine yelp. As the sound turns into a soft moan, it fades further into the background, thankfully. "Hey, listen. Is Isla doing okay up there? Bel believes something's terribly wrong and Fritz and I can only keep her... occupied for so long. She was searching for flights just yesterday morning to surprise Isla."
It can't be easy for Cas and Fritz to be keeping this from their girl. A secret like this could take a long while for her to forgive. And I don't have an answer that would help him anyway.
"She's alive and unharmed, which is a lot more than I can say she would be if I had left her there," I bite, unable to hide the resentment I hold for them allowing her involvement. I know she would have inserted herself into the catastrophe that was Bel's abduction one way or the other, but someone should have been keeping her from trying to kill herself.
A beat of silence awaits me on the other side of the line, Caspian not confirming or denying blame for any of it before he responds, "I don't fault you for doing what you felt necessary, Eamon. I would do far worse if someone were to threaten Bel. Again."
No."Let's not get this twisted, Caspian." I explain, "You love Bel. Isla and I barely tolerate each other, but the consequences ofthe Sanctus Sculitis getting their hands on her would be nothing short of cataclysmic."
I can almost imagine the smirk lifting a corner of his mouth, his disbelief nearly audible through the receiver, "Right. Of course. I must have imagined the kiss and the coat and the-"
"You've been spending too much time with Fritz. His idiocy is rubbing off on you." His deep, ground-shaking laughter fills the line, and my teeth grind together before I can stop them. "Keep an eye on your girl, Cas. That's all I called to say. Isla is fine."
His laughter still doesn't stop, and I end the call because I'm not putting up with one more second of those lovesick demons.
Islaisfine.
She's just fucking depressed and devastated and trapped away from the sun and drowning her sorrows in tequila every night and not eating.
