Page 58 of Whispers of Wisteria (The Garden of Eternal Flowers #5)

It was impossible to make out anything other than wavering shadows and purposeful steps moving in my direction.

“Where the hell is Jameson?” the dragon snarled.

Shiny brown shoes stopped in front of my face and grey-covered knees touched the floor. A white shirt flashed in my vision, but I was too disoriented to fully take in the stranger’s blurry features.

“You seem invested in this one.” The newcomer didn’t answer Titus’s question; instead, he asked one of his own. “You were angry earlier too. Why do you care? Is she your mate or something?”

Titus didn’t respond, and the man—whom I now recognized as Albert—swung his fist down. The punch caught me behind my ear, and my head bounced against the floor in a tooth-rattling hit.

“You son of a bitch!” Titus was beginning to sound quite deranged. My vision had entirely blacked out and I couldn’t focus as my stomach recoiled dangerously.

A rough hand closed over my arm and I pulled to my feet. I was held against the man’s solid form. My body felt like lead and my toes barely brushed the floor—the courage and strength I’d mustered up to come here was finally gone.

“I’m going to ask one more time,” Albert continued. “Otherwise, it’ll get worse for her.”

He’d wrapped his arm around my stomach, and the light pressure of cold, thin metal pressed across my neck.

A knife.

My pulse raced and I pulled at his arm in a panic. I’d almost died the last time this had happened. I would never forget the feeling of when a power-hungry sociopath split open my neck and tried to eat my heart.

“Is she your mate?” Albert asked again.

“Yes.” The venom was heavy in Titus’s reply. “Now put her down if you don’t want to die.”

“You’d kill me anyway,” Albert replied. The pressure against my neck vanished, and he pressed his forearm across my chest, grabbing my chin. Fingers dug into my cheek, turning my face to his.

“Bianca Dubois,” he said. “I’ve looked you up—wanted to see what the fuss was. My nephew said you’re married to Bryce. He seemed certain you weren’t significant. But you being Ducharme’s mate changes things. Why would Dubois be okay with this?”

“It’s not like he can stop it,” Titus snarled.

I wanted to look at him, to make sure he was okay—especially after everything that had just happened with Belial—but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the man holding me.

Or maybe I’d zoned out. Perhaps it’d been a dream.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Albert continued, lips thinning as he spoke to Titus.

“Now you’re intelligent?” Titus asked.

But Albert ignored him. “You’d only be mated to your equal. Not some branch family distant cousin.”

He released my chin. I couldn’t breathe before he grabbed the front of my top and pulled. Titus shouted as the fabric shredded and the last of the cloth fell away.

I clawed at his arms, but my protest didn’t faze my attacker. My head spun as he hooked his finger under my bra and pulled it up. Titus bellowed as the onmyoji exposed my breasts.

“Mu…” he said, awestruck.

I twisted, trying to escape, but his hold was unmovable. He traced his finger over the mark. His touch was almost gentle, but the feel of his skin over mine made me want to throw up.

“Norman lied to me,” Albert frowned. “He has to know.”

“You’re dead!” Titus snapped. His teeth had sharpened, and his eyes glowed a bright crimson.

“So, your mate is Mu,” Albert replied, ignoring Titus’s threats. “That explains a lot.”

“You don’t get to say her name,” Titus growled, lowering his head. There was a threatening note in his voice as he added, “You don’t get to even look at her.”

The room suddenly grew colder and Titus stilled.

But Albert didn’t seem to notice. “Seeing as she’s Mu, the four of you’d have no choice but to cooperate. Plus, do you know how much people would pay for her? To have that type of leverage? She’s priceless.”

“She’s not an object!” Titus roared. He lunged forward as he dropped his arms in front of him. The chains pulled from the ceiling.

Albert let me go, and I fell to the ground as Titus swung his arms, throwing the chain back like a whip.

It flew forward, and Titus grunted, face contorted in concentration, as he aimed at the man running for the door.

The links flew through the air, and the redhead fell to the ground with a crash and shout, his arms trapped at his side.

Titus was in no hurry. He slowly stalked through the room toward Albert, the other end of the chain dragging along the floor behind him with a loud, screeching echo.

“I warned you.” Titus was almost upon him, and the scary calm of his voice shot shivers down my spine. He was calm, and his shoulders relaxed as he lifted a boot-covered foot and pressed it against the man’s shoulder, forcing him to roll to his back.

Albert jerked and tried to squirm away. “How the hell did you get out?”

Titus maintained that same scary calmness as he dropped the chain and held up his hand. “I said—” he continued, not answering Albert’s question. “You don’t get to look at her.”

Titus moved before I could blink. He struck downward, kneeling to the ground as he jabbed his fingers directly into Albert’s eyes.

He screamed as blood gushed from the wound. The red mingled with his hair, dyeing the bright orange a deep crimson.

“Plus, you touched her,” Titus continued without mercy. Albert’s arms were restrained against his thighs, and Titus reached for a hand, squeezing Albert’s fingers in a white-knuckled grip.

“You had no right to do that,” Titus said. Then he ignored Albert’s whining pleas as he crushed the man’s bones.

“And now you get to die.” Titus moved slowly, methodically, as he wrapped the chain around the weeping man’s neck. And this time, as the dragon slowly stood, swinging the chain over his shoulder, I buried my face against the floor and covered my ears as my body shook.

I couldn’t take any more violence. I didn’t like people hurting, or the pain.

I didn’t know how much time passed, but I flinched as a warm hand pressed against my shoulder.

“Bianca,” Titus said, and my quick pulse slowed. I slowly opened my eyes. The fire was gone from his posture, but he still looked like a madman with his hair wild and arms and chest coated in blood that wasn’t his own.

Yet, his hand was gentle.

Titus furrowed his brows as he moved his touch to my elbow.

“You’re shaking,” he said, sounding uncertain.

Was I?

Maybe it was from the freezing floor.

He hesitated, then locked his jaw. He squared his shoulders and pulled me into his lap.

I let my head rest against his chest. This was nice. It was so much warmer here. Still, it felt like nothing could chase away the chill that had settled deep in my bones.

Calloused fingers pressed down my arm. “Are you okay?”

That was a loaded question, and one that I really should answer. His heart was beating so quickly—he was probably worried sick.

But my lips were numb, and I was so ready for this adventure to be over.

Titus pressed across the tangled, half-braided mess of my hair until he reached the back of my head, and I winced. The pressure was a sharp reminder of the headache that wouldn’t go away.

His touch lightened further and his pulse thrummed wildly under my cheek.

“Julian…” he said. He held me against him, princess-style, and stood. “We need to get to Julian.”

Yeah, Julian. That’d be nice. I missed him.

“Let’s go,” Titus was half-talking to me, half to himself.

I closed my eyes as he moved through the room, pushed the door open with his hip, and stepped into the dark hallway. He moved with a purpose. Did he know how to fly a plane?

I pressed closer and curled my fingers into the barely-there remains of his shirt. How was he so warm when it was freezing?

He stepped into a second cargo space. Unlike the first, which had been empty except for Titus and the magical items that kept him prisoner, this one had a row of windows and seats lining the walls beneath them.

Half the room was filled with the same type of containers that’d been in the storage facility.

Titus stepped toward one and touched the bottom with his toe as he glowered. “Drugs.”

Then the look vanished and he shook his head.

“That’s something to deal with later,” he said, looking around the room. “It’s not important. First, let’s take care of you.”

My attention remained riveted to the box as he moved to the chairs. He set me down and my thoughts went blank.

I’d been numb, but now that he was slowly backing away, my anxiety had begun to return.

I didn’t even realize I was holding his shirt until his fingers closed around my fist. “It’s okay, Princess,” he said. “I’m not going far. I’ll kick out the pilot. Then we’re out of here.”

My attention wandered to the emergency exit, and Titus followed my line of sight.

His grip tightened. “Let’s not jump out of any planes today,” his voice was light, but I could hear the underlying plea. “I’m not going to be much help in the air.”

But…

My chest swelled with an unspoken argument.

He could fly. He could. I didn’t understand how, but I knew this.

But for some reason, he wouldn’t.

“Bianca, look at me,” Titus commanded. He knelt in front of me and touched my arms.

I was shivering, but that made no sense. I was no longer cold. His eyes flashed and he shrugged off the remains of his shirt—leaving himself only in an undershirt—and wrapped the once-white garment around my shoulders.

The silk felt smooth against my painful, stretched skin, and I pulled it tighter.

“Bianca…” He stopped petting me and I glanced at him. He was staring at my chest.

I held the shirt out and looked at myself. What had caught his attention? It certainly wasn’t my breasts, since my bra was covering me again.

My thoughts froze as the static in my ears grew stronger. I couldn’t feel them yet, but deep purple, red, and blue marks were already blossoming across my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pulled the garment tighter, and wrapped my arms around my stomach.

Titus’s attention moved lower, and he traced his finger along the hem of my skirt. It was ripped beyond repair, and my tights were barely held together.

My outfit was ruined.

He had to have a general idea of what’d happened—he’d said he could smell them; he’d asked if they were dead.

But it hadn’t felt real until now.

I’d almost been raped.

There were other, more important things to focus on, but my thoughts were stuck in a loop.

My usual coping methods weren’t working anymore. I couldn’t think of anything else, which was stupid, because nothing had happened.

I’d gotten away.

So why did it feel the same?

A sob hitched in my throat as the final thread that was holding my sanity in place snapped.

I couldn’t breathe as his arms closed around me, and he pulled me into the suffocating cage of his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

I opened my eyes and held on to his arm, trying to stay grounded. I couldn’t see anything past his huge chest, but I didn’t need to.

He would keep me safe.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” His voice rumbled low against my neck. He rubbed my back and added, “And I’m sorry you had to take care of it on your own.”

My grip tightened, and the tight noose that had been wrapped around my heart loosened.

“But I’m proud of you,” he said. His sincerity reached through my broken thoughts. “You did good.”

There was no way he knew what I’d actually done, but still…

The sentiment made me feel a bit better.