Her voice is a siren’s song, and my eyes close as I fall under her call.
“Honey, I don’t give a shit whose cock you are about to suck. My issue is not about you being a whore. Honestly, I think sex workers deserve more respect in the world, so don’t even bother going there. Anyway, the problem is, you’re a fucking thief, wearing my lingerie you stole from my room. That’s gross.”
Two things happen at once. Three things, if I’m honest.
My eyes burst open, and I see the moment the stranger with the pouty lips and foreign accent raises her eyesat the screen. She looks right into the middle of the camera, like she senses someone’s watching. I was right about the smile; I see the carefully concealed humor in her eyes. I’m here, and every cell in my body wants to be there, to be a part of the fun she's having. With her.
The yank from before was her.
I’ve seen those eyes. I thought it was a fever dream.
The thing that was tugging before breaks free. At a speed of a thousand miles an hour. I fall against the wall, my focus on the screen, every part of me wanting to get closer.
Whatever it is inside is now alive and makes me feel like I’m at the top of a roller coaster, waiting for the final loop. Backward. In the dark. With no safety harness on.
It’s equally euphoric and terrifying.
I come face-to-face with my destiny.
Her.
No matter how hard I wish differently, she’s as real as a heart attack. I didn’t imagine her; I’m pretty sure I bit her.
I look down at her hand, searching for proof. There’s no mark left of my claim, but I swear I can feel it still.
A sudden pool of worry threatens to steal the moment, not because of maybe bites, of stunning shock. It is so much easier than that. My worry centers on who she is.
She’s my Helen of Troy. Or you could call her my Nefertiti, Cleopatra, or Eve. Any name given to the woman who changed a man’s history would fit.
Consequencewhispers through my thoughts. Nalla licks my fingers as my anxiety spikes, then spikes some more. Roshka’s whole being is vibrating as he picks up on my energy, as he waits for my command to leap into action.
I can’t drag my eyes off hers, and it’s as if she can see me through the closed door.
But the floodgates of my subconscious have opened. Like a plug has been removed from something hiding my memories, I’m back in a foreign country, in a small community health center, fighting against the drugs ripping my insides apart while my life source bleeds out. Now I see the scene from a different angle, like an out-of-body experience. I watch, remembering, and it’s like the first time. Her eyes hold me hostage.
They’re iridescent blue, like the hottest part of a flame.
I remember how she set my soul alight that night too.
With a look, she does it again, and for a heartbeat, I forget there are other people around.Consequencebeats louder than the pound of my own survival.
And then the last thing I need to remember but have conveniently forgotten drops into sight. Sergey appears on the screen, his harem of demons close behind.
I have to protect her from him.
I have to twist the protective urges making me move in the opposite way I want.
But it’s an irrevocable, unchangeable, unshiftable drive, exactly like nature intended, that brings peace in the turmoil.
A bone-deep need to keep her safe strikes, like a lightening.
When I open my door, Larisa shrieks and falls backward into my suite. I don’t look at my mate, hopefully, in turn, hiding my true connection from Sergey.
My hand latches around Larisa’s throat, giving me something to hold on to as I drag her, kicking and gasping for air, right to Sergey.
I want to sweep his fiancée off her feet and keep her in my suite for the rest of my time. Protect her from him.
What I want and do are two very different things. Intentionally, I act as though she is as inconsequential as Larisa.
