Chapter 8

ALLISON

Not now. Not fucking now.

I cursed silently, struggling to wrench myself free, but the arms caging me were bands of iron. He wasn’t budging. He wasn’t even straining. Even when I tried to torque my body to get a look at the bastard, I couldn’t, his hold was absolute. My back was welded to a wall of solid muscle.

Just what I needed, a drunk, clingy stranger trying to cop a feel in the middle of a mission.

I inhaled a sharp breath, willing myself not to plant my elbow in his jaw. No violence. You can’t cause a scene here. Not with Melissa so close.

“Can you let me go? I’m not in the mood for a dance,” I yelled, pitching my voice to carry over the booming bass, though I knew a simple refusal never stopped predators like this.

He gave no response. Instead, his grip on my waist tightened, pulling me impossibly closer until there wasn’t a breath of air between us.

For a fleeting second, I contemplated reaching for the blade tucked in my boot, but I crushed the impulse. I couldn’t risk a bloodbath. If I started a brawl, Melissa would vanish in the chaos.

“Let go of me, dammit! I don’t have time for this.” I twisted against him, grit and frustration boiling over.

“Why are you in such a rush?”

He whispered the words against the sensitive shell of my ear. His voice was a deep, smoky timbre that vibrated straight down my spine like a physical caress.

Against my will and against every instinct I possessed, a violent shudder racked my body.

I tensed, horrified by my own reaction. What the fuck was that?

No, I’m just stressed. That’s it. I haven’t had any release, I haven't slept, my nerves are fried. That’s why I’m reacting this way to a stranger.

I mean, not that long ago I was fantasizing about psycho vampire twins. clearly, my wiring was faulty.

I need to get away from him.

He still had one arm wrapped like a steel cable around my waist when his other hand began to move. It trailed up the side of my body, a slow, deliberate ascent over the fabric of my shirt. His fingers traced the curve of my ribcage, searing heat through the cloth, until they lingered at the swell of my breast.

My breath hitched. My blood turned to liquid fire.

His thumb made a slow, arrogant stroke over the flesh before his hand engulfed the mound, claiming it.

A jolt of electricity shot through me, a lightning strike that bypassed my brain and went straight south. My lower belly clenched in a hungry, traitorous spasm, and my breathing grew ragged.

Dammit! Why am I getting turned on by a stranger? Why do his hands feel... right?

He continued to mold my breast, kneading the flesh with possessive strokes. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. For a second, I thought he was sniffing me like an animal tracking a scent.

“The fuck are you doing?” I tried to snap, but my voice betrayed me. It came out breathy, needy, stripped of all malice.

Gods, this is disgraceful.

“It fits my hand so perfectly,” he groaned against my neck, squeezing firmly to punctuate his statement.

My knees buckled. A shiver cascaded down my spine. His voice... it was narcotic. I was helpless. I knew I should be breaking his fingers, but I couldn’t think clearly enough to remember why. Logic dissolved into mist as my body became a slave to the sensation.

At some point, the arm holding me in place had moved, sliding up to claim my other breast. Now that I was technically free, the thought of escape didn't even cross my mind.

My world had narrowed down to his hands.

When his thumbs grazed my nipples, hardening them instantly, a moan slipped past my lips.

When had his hands slipped under my shirt?

Better yet, why wasn’t I stopping him?

He answered my moan with a guttural groan of his own, and my belly twisted in a knot of desire. It was such a raw, masculine sound.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He pressed his hips firmly into my lower back, grinding forward enough for me to feel the hard, unforgiving length prodding my backside.

That couldn’t be his...

I gulped, my throat dry.

Big... it was big.

I want to touch it.

Fingers tweaking my nipples sent shockwaves through my system, fogging my thoughts until the club disappeared. The music, the lights, the danger, it all faded to grey. I could only focus on the heat of his skin against mine. My nether regions throbbed, wet and aching. I was close. If he continued to touch me like this, I would unravel right here on the dance floor.

“Your scent is getting sweeter, little Hunter,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the sensitive cord of my neck. “You’re close, aren't you? If I dipped my hand down there, I just know I’d find you soaked.”

More moans spilled from my lips, shameful and sweet.

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

I wanted to scream yes. I wanted to beg him for it. The orgasm was approaching like a freight train, and I knew it would be earth-shattering.

And then his words struck me.

‘Little Hunter’.

The fog snapped.

I shoved off him with a burst of hysterical strength, my heart stuttering as I spun around to face the male who’d almost brought me to climax.

His lips were pulled back into a smirk as he stared down at me, his devastatingly beautiful face twisting into something sinister.

My heart stopped the moment my gaze locked with crimson fire.

Him.

Like I’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, every ounce of arousal vanished, replaced by cold, paralyzing terror.

Why was he here?

I tried to scramble back, but he caught my wrist. The smirk vanished from his face instantly, replaced by the cold mask of a King.

“Where do you think you’re going, Hunter?”

“Let go of me!” I cried, trying to pry my wrist out of his grasp, but it was like fighting a statue. I knew there was no way I’d win a battle of strength against an abomination, let alone a Royal.

“No. I have business with you, so you’re coming with me. Best be compliant, or I might accidentally break a few bones if you struggle too much.”

To punctuate the threat, his grip tightened. Pain exploded in my wrist, grinding bone against bone. I crumbled to my knees, gasping.

The cogs of my mind spun at full speed, searching for an exit, a strategy, a weapon. But I was blank.

‘If all else fails, scream for help.’

I didn’t recall who had told me that, but in that moment, I was desperate.

“Someone help me! He’s attacking me!” I screamed, my voice tearing through the booming music.

I looked around, praying for a hero.

But the crowd didn't rush to save me. They backed away.

The sea of bodies parted around us, creating a wide, terrified circle. Their eyes held no pity, only fear as they stared at my captor. No one was going to save me. No one dared to breathe wrong in the presence of a Royal, let alone antagonize one.

Dammit!

Violence be damned. There was no way on earth I was going to let this bastard take me to a second location. Not without a fight.

I reached for the sword tucked away at my hip, the only thing that never failed me. But before I could draw it, Something hard collided with the back of my neck.

“Troublesome Hunter,” I faintly heard his deep voice grumble.

Then, the world dissolved into blessed, silent black.