Flashbacks of me on his desk and his mouth between my legs flip through my mind like a movie. His tongue. The way it moved with perfection. Butterflies swirl in my stomach.
Voices echo just behind the door.
Samara… she’s laughing.
Using the hard stone wall as a guide, I follow the steps down one at a time and notice there’s a slight spiral in the shape. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t see shit, because the wall to my left seems to have fallen away, which could mean the center is open. My heart thumps harder and harder. Well, it would be awkward as fuck if I fell to my death while they were trying to hide me from the person who wants to kill me. Well, I assume that’s what she wants to do… eventually. I imagine she would try to extract as much out of me as she can…. What, I don’t know, but I sure as shit don’t want to find out.
The images of me, tied to a device with my limbs chained and tubes draining my blood, play on repeat.
A moment later, the stairs end and I’m walking on flat stone. Reaching my hand out tentatively, I find the wall to my left has reappeared. I look up to see how far I’ve come, but still can’t see shit. I would have thought my eyes would have adjusted by now, but there is literally not an ounce of light in here. For all I know, it was a short flight of stairs even though it seemed longer because it took me forever, testing each step before I took it.
Something I should be doing now. Fuck! I walk straight into a door, my face taking the brunt of it.
“Fuck!” I groan, then quickly put my hand over my mouth. Shit! What if she heard me? Heard the bookcase yell fuck?
Damn it!
A warmth tickles my nose and when I swipe it away, I realize it’s blood. Quickly, running my fingers over my nose, I try to feel if it’s broken, but it doesn’t seem to be. Just bleeding.
What am I supposed to do now? Callum didn’t give me instructions for when I get to the bottom of the stairs. My hands slide over the walls, feeling for any sort of button or lever. When I don’t find one, I push on all the stones, thinking there’s some hidden stone, but nothing shifts.
What the fuck, Callum?
I’m scared to bang on the door because I don’t know what’s on the other side, and I don’t want the noise echoing back up to the library. Why would he let her come up there? Oh Goddess, what if she finds my underwear? How’s he going to explain that one?
Nerves crackle through my skin like electricity. I feverishly run my hand over the door in front of me and find a handle.
Fucking Everlee. Why didn’t you check that first?
I twist, cautiously, and push the door open and low light pours into the small space, as well as hushed voices I don’t recognize. There are several females talking and a few men.
Where am I?
Did Callum know where he was sending me?
I step through the door and find myself in a storage room of some sort. There’s a hint of light filtering in from underneath the door, but after coming from complete darkness, it seems like an abundance.
Fully stepping into the room, I look around and find shelves with a mixture of things. Mostly plastic bags, and tubes, some chains, locks, metal bars.
Where am I?
I push the door closed, which is on the back side of a shelf. Even though it appears to be weighted down with a lot of boxes, it glides along the floor easily and clicks locked with a thunk.
Trying to force my heartbeat to slow down, I take several slow and deep breaths with my hand on the handle. Building up the courage, I twist and push the door open.
What the fuck?
It’s a large open room with lights on in only half of it, so the left side is too dark to see anything. Sitting in a chair in the corner is Emmett, talking to three women and a man who are also sitting in chairs along the back wall. They have tubes coming out of their arms hooked to blood bags, with trays and a drink beside each of them.
Emmett looks at me, then at the four individuals, before his eyes snap back to me. His eyes settle on my face. On the blood that is still trickling out.
Fuck.
His eyes pulse at the same time his body becomes ridged and his hands grip tightly onto the handles of the chair he’s sitting in.
The four individuals don’t notice the tension in the room, or the micro movements of Emmett trying to restrain his bloodlust.
“You need to go,” Emmett says through gritted teeth, eye set on me. The girls stare at me casually with a smirk on their face.
