Page 13 of Love in Fear

I shiver at the feel of his mouth on my body. His hand slides up my ribs to rub small circles on the side of my breast. I lose all coherent thought at his touch on my skin. I don’t understand my reaction, I’ve never craved the touch of another like I have with him. Leaning my head back onto his shoulder, I decide to give into temptation, and let him do as he pleases with me. His hand slides up between my breasts, firmly wrapping around my throat. He doesn’t squeeze hard just enough to show that he is the one in charge.

“Now, let's get upstairs before something happens in this lobby that you are not ready for.” His words come out husky as he grinds his long, hard shaft into my backside.

I nod unable to find words. My body is on fire, and my brain has turned to complete mush. Hendrick turns us, guiding me into the elevator that the doors are still open and waiting for us to step inside. Once inside, Hendrick turns me with his hand still on my throat. He walks me backward until my back is plastered against the wall. He watches me from under his hat, still hiding his face from view. I reach up to push his hat back so I can see the rest of his face, but before I can, he grabs my wrist pressing it against the wall next to my head. His eyes trace my face, looking for what, I couldn’t tell you. Whatever it is, he seems to find it because in the next blink of my eyes, his mouth is on mine as his tongue traces the seam of my mouth asking for permission to conquer it.

I don’t fight him, needing to taste this man. To feel his danger and violence fall away and replaced with a soft and gentle side of him. That thought lasts only the barest of seconds as his kisses turn from searching and learning, to dominant and controlling. Wetness floods my panties as need wracks my body. To ease the ache, I try to rub my thighs together to find some kind of relief.

“Oh, my Little one is such a needy thing,” he purrs, raining kisses across my face and down my neck to the space between my shoulders and neck, biting there just enough to shock me.

I’m on the verge of begging him to take me. To do as he wishes, damn everything else going on in our lives if it means that I can finally get some relief. The bell on the elevator dings, letting us know that we’ve reached our floor. Hendrick pulls back, looking me in the eyes. “The mix of fear and desire in your eyes is an addiction that I’ll never stop craving.”

He moves away before I can say anything, leading us into a high-end lobby with carpet so lush that you can’t even hear our footsteps as we make our way across the room. There are single chairs dotted around with small tables nestled in-between. He leads me past a glass desk that is lit from within. I rush to keep up with him as he takes the hallway to his right. There are a number of doors on both sides of the corridor before opening up into another small lobby. It has the same type of desk as out front, and just behind that is a wall of glass, showcasing the wall of windows behind it.

Hendrick pushes through the glass door into the office that is exactly like the rest of the building so far, plated with glass and metal that’s cold and uninviting. I follow Hendrick into the office, my eyes still on the skyline taking in Atlanta from this vantage point. It's one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I make it close enough to be able to touch the glass. Hendrick comes up behind me, placing his hands on my hips. I lean back into him like I’ve done this a thousand times, and we haven’t just met, and were running for our lives only a couple hours ago.

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Why can't I go home?” I whisper, scared to shatter this moment.

Hendrick sighs, kissing the top of my head before turning away, and going over to his desk. He sits in the chair, pulling his hat from his head, and placing it on the top of his desk. I walk over to him, leaning a hip on the edge of the desk. Waiting for him to tell me, but not expecting the information he gives me in any way.

“The home that you were attending the party at is the head of the family.” He starts, leaning back in his chair watching me.

“The family?” I query.

He raises an eyebrow at my question, then answers, “Yes. I am one of the highest-ranking leaders just under him in the chain of command once my father passed.”

“Listen, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. You’re going to have to lay it out like I’m a child.” I stop him again.

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Have you ever heard of the Mafia?”

I nod at him because we all have heard the rumors that they are around, but it's more of a myth than a fact.

“Well, the man's home that you were in is the leader of the Mafia here in the Southend of Atlanta. He is, well, my boss, until the unfortunate event that took place tonight.” He stops speaking and watches me for a response.

CHAPTERTWELVE

HENDRICK

I keepmy eyes on her, waiting for her to grasp and understand what this all means. She turns from me, going back to the wall of windows staring out at the Atlanta skyline. The lights wash over her skin, making her look as if she is an angel. Isn’t that fitting for who we are, the Devil and an Angel.

“Hendrick, why does this have anything to do with me? I was just an unwilling guest at a party,” she asks, turning to me with a single tear rushing down her cheek.

“Little one, it seems you are caught in the cross hairs of a war that has been in the making for some time now. You are just the one to set it all into motion,” I explain.

She looks over her shoulder at me, and asks, “Why do you call me “Little one”?”

I tilt my head to the side, studying her, because I don’t know why I call her that.

“Is it because you don’t know my name? I’ve entrusted my life to a man that doesn’t even know my name,” she mumbles, before giggling, only her laughter is hollow.

He clears his throat and asks, “So, tell me what your name is? If it’ll make you feel better about the situation we’re currently in, I’ll use it instead.”

She narrows her eyes, not finding my statement reassuring in the least. She wraps her arms around her middle as if she is holding herself together before she starts speaking. “My name is Evora. I’ve always seemed to find myself in trouble. First as a child, I was too curious for my own good. As a teen, I was too headstrong and smart for my own good. As a young adult, I chose that asshole whose throat you slit. He was so sweet and kind at first, making me feel loved and cared for. Then nothing was right or good enough. Then there were others he would involve in our sex life.” She turns, leaning back against the window before sliding down onto her ass, and says, “The first time I tried to run, he found me, and taught me why running was not in my best interest. I lived that way for nearly two years until I was finally able to get away. Spent more nights than I’d like to remember in the hospital being taken care of because of my accidents,” she recites.

“That just means that I did what needed to be done,” I tell her, standing, making my way over to the wet bar to pour us both a stiff drink.

“You won't see me shed a tear over that man being gone.” I turn to smile at her when out of nowhere she starts rubbing at her arms frantically.

She rubs aggressively, like she is trying to scrape her skin off. I walk over to her, squatting down, and pulling her hands away. That’s when I see the splattered blood all over her arms, chest, and face.