Page 57 of The Masked King

“Have you ever climbed a mountain, Demi?”

My tongue is too big for my mouth, but the words try to form, allowing him to squeeze harder around my constricting throat. I claw at his arms, but he’s immovable.

“It’s hard,” he continues.

But not fucking impossible, I yell silently.

“You need the right equipment of course, climbing gear, ropes, crampons. But you could spend all the money in the world on this stuff, and you still won’t reach the top. Do you know why?”

The asshole is deliberately taking his time, watching the life ebb from me while he speaks, and enjoying every moment.

“Because there’s one thing that’s more important to the person who is determined to win. And that’s a team. You need other people to hold you up, Demi. You need other people to cut loose when they’re weighing you down. And then there’s the people who have what you need to succeed, the people you use to get you to the top and then push over the side when they’ve nothing left to offer.”

I stop fighting. My head is about to explode, and I get a macabre sense of screwed justice from the mental image of it popping like a balloon, bits of brain and body fluid and blood splattering his face and immaculate suit.

Blackness converges on the edges of my vision, seeping through the brightness like spilt ink. I cling to it the way I’d cling to debris in a stormy ocean, praying that it will get me to the other side where nothing will hurt anymore.

The last thing I hear is Enzo’s voice asking me if I’m alright. “Did they hurt you, Nyx?”

Then he releases me, and I land on my knees on the floor, clutching my throat and gulping air through my restricted airways. I can’t fill my lungs quickly enough. I roll onto my side, the carpet tickling my face, choking on the burning bile rising from my stomach.

“Breathe.”

His arms are around my chest and hauling me back onto my knees, my forehead touching the floor. He rubs my back in slow circular motions, his hand hot and heavy on my bare skin, his other arm preventing me from going anywhere.

“Deep breath in.” He demonstrates with the sound of his own breath. “And out again. Your breathing is too shallow. Keep it steady. In… two… three… out… two… three…”

I don’t want his help. I don’t want him anywhere near me, but my instincts latch onto his words like they’re all that’s standing between me and oblivion. Maybe they are. Because gradually, my lungs take in enough oxygen for me to stop coughing and spluttering, and my surroundings start to break through the black swamping my vision.

The lights are still too bright. My chest is still heaving with the effort of pumping oxygen around my body. But what makes my blood curdle in my veins is the feel of his arm around my chest.

My naked chest.

I didn’t even feel him unwrapping the towel from around my body.

I shove his arm off me and crawl across the carpet, scanning the floor for a glimpse of fluffy white cotton. It isn’t there. Suddenly aware of his eyes on me, I turn around and curl into a ball, pressing my back against the wall in a futile attempt to make myself invisible.

“Stay away from me.” I’m hoarse, the words barely more than a whisper.

He arches a black bushy eyebrow. “Or you’ll do what exactly?”

I don’t answer. He knows there’s nothing I could do to stop him from taking what he wants.

“I won’t hurt you, Demi.” He rises with surprising grace given his stature, every part of him thick and solid. “You’re worth more to me intact.”

The word makes my flesh crawl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All in good time. You should be grateful that I choose to share my hospitality with you.”

“Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“What happened to Brian and Nyx?”

“So many questions.” I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can hold an entire conversation without expressing any emotion. It’s as if he’s switched off inside. “You lost that privilege when you lied your way into my world, Demi.”

“Are they still alive?”