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Hands grip my shoulders and neck, forcing me down onto the ground as my knees hit the floor. The trembling becomes worse, tears hot as they slip down my cheeks, my mind spinning with the realisation of what’s about to happen to me.
Then suddenly, a sharp pain.
A prick felt at the side of my neck.
Slowly, the world tilts, even in my state of total darkness, as my entire body becomes heavy, my limbs unresponsive. My body sways, and my heart rate picks up. Something in my vision changes, and then—pure darkness. It swallows me whole, taking me under, before I can even think another coherent thought.
Chapter Three
Chiara
Everything is spinning all around me.
I’m vaguely aware of movement, the low hum of an engine vibrating beneath me, but even then, I’m not too sure. My thoughts are too confusing now, and my memory is hazy.
There’s a voice, deep and low, as it bounces all around. I can’t understand the words, some English, and others not, but the dark rumble of his tone is familiar. My head rests against something solid, and I feel the gentle pull of fingers running through my hair.
I wish I could move, I wish I could speak, but my limbs are useless now, and my lips won’t part open. My eyelids are impossibly heavy, but I fight to open them, and slowly, I feel my lashes flutter.
The first thing I see ishim.
Under the faint glow of street lights flashing through the car windows, I see him.
Pale blue eyes like shards of ice lock onto mine, and a smirk tugs at his lips—barely there—but it’s enough to make my heart skip a beat.
I moan softly.
At that sound, his fingers tighten around my hair. It’s not enough to hurt me, but it’s enough to force me in place against his body.
As he leans down, I notice the way his smirk grows dangerous, his lips parting as he speaks, his words sending a shiver through me.
“Good morning, beauty.”
He murmurs, his accent curling around each of the three words, smooth and distinctly Russian.
His voice makes my head swim as I blink sluggishly at him, trying to focus on everything that’s happening now.
He breathes me in, his eyes closing shut, and he groans.
My heart races.
They open again, his jaw sharp and clenched, as he leans in to nudge his nose against mine. My breathing catches in my throat. He looks at me—his eyes darting between either one of mine—and that’s when I spot the predator’s gaze in his eyes.
As he pulls away from me, I spot the edge of a tattoo snaking up his neck, and the scar that appears from his stubble stretches along to the bridge of his nose.
I gasp softly, and he chuckles in response. The sound is low and dangerous, and as he begins to play with my hair again, he brings his other hand to my mouth. My chest squeezes with panic, remembering the way his fingers were pressed against me to keep me quiet, but he only brushes his thumb along my bottom lip.
“Back to bed, beauty. We’ll be home in no time.”
My mind spins.
“Home?”
I manage to croak, the word barely able to escape my dry throat.
The man doesn’t answer me. Instead, he looks away from me, and over towards the front of the car. The weight of his palm on my head is almost soothing, and against my will, I find my eyes fluttering shut.
The fight drains out of me.