“If you don’t let me go,I’ll—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “I’m in a bad mood, and I’m extremely tempted to take it out on you. Don’t provoke me anymore than you already have. It won’t end well for you.” Then, he’s hauling me up by my waist, andthrowing me over his shoulderlike I weigh nothing.
“Help!” I screech at the top of my lungs. I don’t like playing the damsel in distress, but if I’m forced to, I will. “Somebody, he—”
I hear a tearing sound, and pressure on my dress.Did he rip it?My stomach drops as he sets me back on my feet, only long enough to shove the torn fabric from the hem of my dressinto my mouthand tie it around the back of my head. He fuckinggaggedme.
Whoever thisMaxis, he’s fucking insane, andfartoo good at binding and subduing a woman for my comfort. He’s a beast.
“If anyone sees us like this and tries to come to your aid, you should know I’ll kill them,” he says casually. “Therefore, if you have any regard for human life, you’ll tell them we’re into some kinky shit.”
“Fuck you!”I shout, but it comes out asuk oo. He still seems to understand me, because the fucking bastardchuckles.
I have never wanted to murder someone more than I do now.
A little-known secret about me these days is that I don’tlikekilling people. Most wouldn’t be able to discern that, considering my methods and the trail of bodies I leave in my wake. I only do what I’m ordered to do, and I take no pleasure in it. I’ve killed dozens of Dagon’s enemies, but I’ve never once enjoyed it.
Max, however? I’dloveto kill him.
He carries me back to the motel lot without incident, footsteps quiet in the dark of the night. We go up a staircase and into the motel complex, and after a moment, he fumbles in his pocket for a set of keys and unlocks the door. He steps inside, me still slung over his shoulder, kicks the door shut behind him, and flicks on the lights.
The motel room isn’t too bad. I’ve stayed in worse places before.
Max dumps me on the bed, and says, “Stay.”
I glare at him. I continue glaring at him as he rummages around shitty drawers and cabinets until he finds a mini fridge, cracks open a bottle of vodka, and gulps it down in one go. He selects another bottle and glances at me. “Want some?”
Desperately, but I haven’t had a sip of alcohol in years. I long to get blackout drunk, maybe even drink myself into a coma and early grave, but I can’t. There’s too much riding on me staying sharp.
Namely,her.
When I don’t respond, Max shrugs. “Your loss.” I expect him to down all the available liquor, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sets the bottle on the wooden dresser and starts unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging out of it. Beneath is a secondary shirt, this one a bit thinner. It takes me a moment to realize that the shirt is the reason my bullet didn’t kill him. Whatever it’s made out of was strong enough to withstand a point-blank gunshot.
Then, he pulls it over his head. Something warm curls through my stomach as inch after inch of perfectly-sculpted muscle is revealed.
DearGod, my temporary, soon-to-be-dead captor takes care of himself. There’s a blooming bruise on his chest and his arm from bullets, but that can’t mask his perfection. My gaze lingers on his abs—he has aneight-pack, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.
“Like what you see?” he asks, a grin stealing across his annoyingly perfect lips. Everything about him is infuriatingly gorgeous. While he was actively kidnapping me, I was only looking at him to catch weak spots, butnow…now, I notice everything.
Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Straight nose. His eyes are the color of boiling whiskey, littered with flecks of molten gold and hooded by thick, dark eyelashes. There’s a smattering of barely-visible freckles across the bridge of his nose.
“Careful, Flame. You’re making me hard, and if my hard-on persists, I’ll expect you to take care of it.”
I recoil, pointedly looking away. Getting kidnapped is already embarrassing enough; getting kidnapped and raped is a stain on my reputation that I’ll never rub clean. Dagon will kill the only thing in the world I care about just for sport if he finds out someone had me before he did.
“Hmm,” Max hums thoughtfully. “Alright—here’s what’s gonna happen, Flame.”There’s that nickname again. It stirs something in the back of my mind. “I’ll take off that gag, and then I’m going to ask you questions. If you respond honestly, we won’t have any issues. If you hold out on me, I’m going to add to your punishment. Got it?”
My next breath shudders out of me.Punishment.I’m intimately familiar with the concept, and I can tolerate alotof pain, but I don’t enjoy it. I don’t look forward to it. I just… endure it whenever Dagon’s in the mood to hand it out.
These days, I prefer it when he leaves anypunishmentto his soldiers. I can knock those little boys out and go about my business. Dagon, however? I can’t lay a finger on him without paying a price I refuse to pay.
Max approaches me with lazy, unhurried footsteps. His fingers hook under the fabric of the makeshift gag, then pull it down. I continue staring at the wall to the side of me, even if glimpsing his muscles in the corner of my eyes tempts me to take another, longer look. Max cups my chin in his hand and jerks my head to face him. I stare at his chest, trying not to appreciate it too much.
“Look at me,” he says simply.
“Already am.” I force a yawn. “I’m not seeing anything impressive.”
He releases a low, raspy chuckle that hardens my nipples and tightens my core.The fuck?
