He even has a crooked smile to match his pretty eyes. He swoops in close to the shell of my ear. “You look like you need a drink”. And holy bananas his voice is pure sex. Each word a caress.
Just by looking at him, I know he would smell divine. He looks exactly like what I need right now—a wickedly beautiful mistake.
Not that I’ve been with anyone besides Ayden, but all of a sudden I wish I was a lot more sexually experienced, he’d be perfect if I was keen on revenge.
Before I can remember how to speak, much less function properly, Bradley rushes out of the shadows on my left, his eyes locked on the barman. I flick my hand up to stop my security with a dismissive wave of my hand, stunning myself.
It’s embarrassing how entitled I act, but I’m so angry with my security team, and I don’t trust their motivations. Now is not the time or place for my security team to be acting like this. And the tattooed Alpha keeps doing what he set out to do. He does more than any other person here tonight has done: he makes me feel seen. I don’t even bother trying to unpack the way I feel safe at the small challenge in his eyes. I’m the first to admit I’m so far-off my game it’s not funny.
I accept his drink and knock it back, keeping his stunning green eyes locked on mine while I swallow. An explosion of tasty flavour follows—tart orange sweetness burns my taste buds before the suppressors kick into gear and dull my responses again.
I’m sure I pull a face like I’ve sucked on a lemon. Instead of laughing at me, I get this sense he’s laughing with me while plying me with Dutch courage and false bravado, but I take it. Our strange moment is interrupted when I check on grandma’s watch to confirm I need to leave. Nodding my head in thanks, I move off with an unexpected pep in my step.
Graham and Joseph fall into step behind me. The three of us stick to the edges of the room as we move towards the discrete entrance to the stage area. Once the door shuts behind us, it’s all systems go as the tech team fit earpieces and microphones for our speeches. As soon as the techies are done, a make-up team rushes in to smooth out my long-curled hair and redo my lipstick. And then the event coordinator is in front of me, guiding me to the edge of the stage to ensure I walk out on time.
My nerves are strangely settled. Someone passes me a bottle of water and I accept it without looking, drinking nearly half of it while the MC introduces Graham, Joseph, and me. As soon as I hear our cue, we step out together, like we’ve practised this over and over.
The lights are blinding and the attention of the crowd pushes against me. But I take a moment to sink into my nervousness before I start speaking.
Without a fumble or even a pause, I say my piece. I know I did well, I can feel it in the support of the crowd and hear it in their applause. I feel both good and hugely relieved as I stand behind Joseph and Graham ready for them to speak about the success the Verdune Foundation has had over the past twelve months.
Graham has barely started when I’m hit with a sudden and oppressive heaviness. The feeling descends on me in crashing waves. I blink past the first peaks, quickly realising I’ve been drugged.
Of course, I have. Being drugged in front of everyone, after all their warnings about my security is the perfect scripted end to my bullshit night. Despite my thoughts clunking together, I still have enough wits about me to know I can’t let everyone see me like this.
I spin and make a quick but discrete exit off the stage. I thumb a message for my driver, asking for the car to be brought round the rear and already have Bradley’s number on my phone, but the earpiece I’m wearing makes it hard to hear what’s going on around me. I rip it from my ears and untangle it from my hair.
Walking seems to be getting harder, but I make it down the stairs without tripping or passing another person, everyone congregating on the opposite side of the stage. My eyes are blurry, but I make out a toilet sign and instinctively I know that will be the safest place to hide until my security team comes to me.
With each step, my legs become rubbery, and my vision blurs so bad I can’t see anything but shapes, but nothing will stop me from getting to the restroom.
Locking my eyes on where I need to go, I’m thrown into a world of panic when the hallway plunges into darkness. Keeping a hand on the wall, I look behind me, searching for light, but it’s a complete blackout.
Not being able to see or think is made a thousand times worse by the sounds radiating from the function centre. Panicked screams and frantic yelling bounce around in my sluggish thoughts, completely destroying my survival instincts.
And then something wet hits my face.
Instinctively, I squeeze my eyes shut, but before I even get my hands up, something is shoved over my mouth with such force that I can taste blood. My hair is yanked backwards, and the searing pain destroys my focus. My neck bends backward so hard and fast I think it’s going to snap. I scream.
And then I fight. I fight with everything I am. But nothing is happening like it should. The drugs have me barely moving. I honestly don’t really know what is happening anymore.
Except there is a part of me still functioning properly. My internal voice is fear laden, but it keeps a running commentary on the strangest things, like reminding me I did the right thing by calling for help.
I really wish the drugs knocked me out cold, but I hear a hiss of warning while missing a handful of words. Either way, the Alpha gives himself away. His Alpha presence steals my submission as he uses rough hands to intentionally cause pain.
I can feel myself blinking, despite not being able to see. And even though I don’t physically experience it, I’m flooded by an overwhelming sense of being so fucking small and helpless.
He strikes like a cornered snake; his menace purposely searches out the last of my fight and it shreds it. And only when I’m more submissive and more aware does he keep doing what he is doing.
ChapterSix
Igo from dead asleep to hyper alert in an instant.
I’m buzzed off my head. And I hurt. I try to stop whimpering, but it doesn’t work.
In front of me, a woman appears. “You’re okay, honey, I’m your nurse, Iris. You’re in Our Mother of Mercy Private Hospital. You were injured in an attack, but you’re safe now.”
Her voice is soft. The compassion in her eyes hits hard. And she must see my panic because she blinks again before it’s gone. Instead of sympathy, there’s a more professional look on her face.
