Like electricity sparking through every nerve ending all at once, with a heat and fluidity that made me want to rock my body.
Yes, the dark knight is good at what he does. He’s damn good at making me want to cave and give in to both his desires and mine. I lick my lower lip, wincing at the cracked skin as my back stiffens and I glare at the steel door that refuses to budge.
As if knowing I was thinking about him and what he could do to me, the door to this prison opens and my hardened expression shifts to one of worry, curiosity, and eagerness.
I hadn’t realized how dark it was in the room until the bright light from just beyond the cracked door makes me wince. My tired eyes sting with the need to sleep.
I suck in a small breath, but I don’t cover my eyes or leave them closed for long. Pressed against the wall, I wait with bated breath until my eyes adjust.
I expect to hear the door close, but it stays open.
And the man I thought was coming in? It’s not him. It’s not Carter.
Thump, thump. My heart slams hard in my chest as Jase takes a step inside. Still the door stays open and my eyes have to glance at what’s beyond it.
A hallway and nothing discernable, but I know it’s freedom. That barely ajar door leads to freedom.
“Now don’t make me regret this.” The deep voice seems to echo in the small room and I swallow thickly. It’s only when my throat stings and I feel as if I could choke that I realize how dry my throat is.
“Jase?” I chance a word and it makes the man smile. I remember him from the night I was taken. That’s what Carter called him. He put the rag to my mouth. He’s one of them.
He gives me a sexy lopsided grin that should frighten me. But instead, his charming looks put me at ease. He must be younger than Carter. His eyes are softer. But I remember them all too well, for the wrong reasons.
“You remember me?” he asks me and takes a step forward, grabbing the chair that Carter uses. He’s just as tall as Carter, but leaner and in only a white t-shirt and faded jeans, he looks less threatening.
But looks are deceiving.
My lips part to speak, but I can’t get out a word. A million questions are running through my head.
Why are you here? Where’s Carter?
Are you going to let me go?
I can only nod.
“You’re looking a little on the rough side,” he says and then his voice drifts off as he looks behind him. I follow his gaze to the open door, but quickly my sights are back on his and the chair in his hand that scratches along the concrete. Turning it backward, he sits on it. As if he’s deliberately acting casual.
He is. This is a setup for something. In my head, my words are strong and demanding, but when forced out they sound weak and desperate.
“What do you want?” I swallow, and this time the scratchy sensation in my throat is almost soothed. But the pain in my chest grows with every thump in my heart.
Jase breathes in deep and turns to look back over his shoulder, toward my freedom, and then points to it with his thumb. “He doesn’t seem to be taking care of you, is he?”
Thump. Another thump.
“Is this a trick?” My question is meager at best.
Jase’s chuckle comes from deep in his chest and his smile widens, showing his perfect teeth.
He shakes his head. “No tricks. I just know he can be stubborn and sometimes he gets in his own way.” He’s being far too kind. There isn’t an ounce of me that trusts him.
My gaze falls to my feet. My dirty feet and scraped knees. And then to my nails, the dirt beneath my fingers that doesn’t seem to leave.
My teeth dig into my lower lip to keep me from spilling all the desperate pleas begging me to come up, but it hurts. “What does he want?”
“You.” Jase’s voice is soft and at ease. As if the answer was simple.
“What about me?” For the first time, my voice is as strong as I imagine it would be.
Resting an elbow on the back of the chair, Jase places his chin in his hand and considers me. He parts his lips but then closes his mouth.
“Just tell me,” I beg him.
“I don’t know. This…” Jase trails off, then clears his throat and looks away from me for a moment before looking me back in the eyes to continue, “isn’t something he does.”
“This?” I ask sarcastically, and like a madwoman, a grin forms on my face and I swear I could laugh. “Which part of this?” I dare to spit back at him. And for the first time since Jase has walked in here, pure fear pricks down my spine at the sight of his expression.