The guard’s hand drops from his gun, but his eyes linger on Emma’s bare legs, and a knowing smile teases his lips. I shoot him a look that promises violence, letting just a hint of my bear bleed into my expression, and he spins away, suddenly finding the ornate wallpaper very interesting.
“Blue wing,” he mutters, jerking his chin toward the sweeping staircase that curves up into darkness. “Up the stairs, take a right, then another right. Third door on your left.”
I start climbing, my boots heavy on the marble steps, with Emma still thrashing against my grip like a wildcat. An eclectic variety of swear words and insults tumble from her mouth, but I ignore her futile attempts to get away.
God“I swear to god, if you don’t put me down, I’ll… I’ll…” She lets out a frustrated scream that’s more feral cat than scary warrior.
“You’ll what?” I tighten my grip on her thighs, my fingers drifting dangerously high on her leg, my self-control is hanging by a thread. “Bite me again?”
She stills.
“No,” she says quietly, her breath hot against my back through my shirt. “But I’ll think of something.”
I grit my teeth and take the stairs two at a time, my boots echoing off the marble in the cavernous stairwell. The hallway at the top is long and dimly lit, lined with identical doors set into dark wood panelling. Oil paintings of hunting scenes line the walls, with horses, hounds, and men with rifles. All of it reeks of old money. Kozlov’s trying to buy the illusion of a respectable background and true wealth.
I shoulder Emma’s bedroom door open without breaking stride and carry her into a huge suite that’s more modern than I’d expected. A large bed dominates the space, covered in a blue silk coverlet that matches the heavy drapes framing a sash window. An ensuite bathroom is visible through an open door, all white marble and gleaming fixtures.
It looks like a luxurious guest room, but the heavy lock on the door makes it clear what this place really is. Nothing but a gilded cage.
I cross to the bed, then unceremoniously tumble her down onto the mattress not at all gently.
She bounces once, her golden hair fanning out around her head like a halo, with her dress twisted around her thighs in a way that’s making my mouth go dry. Before she can scramble away, I’m leaning over her with one hand planted on either side of her head, caging her in against the silk coverlet like I did in the car.
Her chest heaves beneath me, straining against the low neckline of her dress, and her green eyes blaze up at me with fury, shining with a fiery passion that’s making my blood run hot.
“Get off me.” Her voice is breathless, her pulse fluttering visibly in the hollow of her throat, which I can’t seem to look away from.
“Listen to me.” My left hand shifts on the ornate headboard as I speak, fingers finding the gap between the carved wood, and the wallpapered wall behind it. The tiny camera Chase gave me, which is no bigger than a shirt button, slips into place without a sound, angled to capture the whole room. “These men are dangerous. I know you’re pissed off, and you have every right to be, but if you keep acting up, theywillhurt you.”
She laughs softly, her head falling back against the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat in a way that makes me want to lean down and drag my teeth across her pulse point. But there’s no humor in the sound, just a hollow, brittle edge that makes my chest ache.
“They’re going to hurt me anyway,” she says quietly, the fight draining out of her voice as quickly as it came, leaving something raw and weary in its wake. “So, I’d rather it be on my terms.”
I stare down at her, this fierce, stubborn woman who’s been thrown into hell and wants to go out swinging.
The animal inside roars at me to tell her the truth, to gather her close against my chest and promise that I’ll get her out of this, that I’ll kill anyone who so much as looks at her wrong.
But I can’t. Not yet. Not with Igor’s footsteps already echoing somewhere in the hallway, getting closer by the second.
So instead, I let out a slow breath, letting some of the tension drain from my shoulders, as I hold her gaze and dip a little closer, my beard brushing against her cheek, and our hips lining up perfectly.
“If any of them fuck with you,” I whisper, my voice rough. “You tell me. Understand?”
Her brow furrows, a crease forming between her eyes as confusion flickers across her face like a shadow. “Why would you care?”
“Just… tell me.” My stern tone seems to reassure her that I’m serious.
Something passes between us in the silence that follows, the air thick and charged in the narrow space between our bodies. A question. An answer. A fragile thread of something that isn’t quite trust, and not exactly a promise, but could maybe become one given the time we don’t have.
Her lips part, soft and pink, and for one insane moment, I think she’s going to say yes. That she’ll do what I say, maybe even acknowledge this inexplicable pull between us, this gravity that keeps dragging me toward her no matter how hard I try to resist.
“Lennox?”
Igor’s voice shatters the moment, echoing down the hallway and breaking whatever spell had settled over us.
“In here,” I call, pushing off the bed and stepping back, schooling my expression into indifference as his footsteps nearby.
Emma props herself up on her elbows and studies me.
