I was wrong.
“Listen up,” I bark. “Youmay be completely unbothered by the fact that we’re trapped in here, about to be sold into the sex trade. Or the internal organ trade. Or… some other kind of illegal back alley trade Netflix will no doubt release a documentary about in the coming months…”
He snorts.
I ignore the sound. “ButIhaven’t resigned myself to dying before my twenty-first birthday. So, let go of me.Now.”
“Only twenty,” he murmurs, his breath warm on my skin. “So very young. So very naive.”
“As opposed to you, hardened and wise in your old age?” I scoff bitterly. “What are you, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”
“Too old for you, in any case.”
“Perfect, since I’d never in a million years be interested,” I hiss scathingly. “Now, let me go. I mean it.”
“Or what?” The streak of humor in his tone tells me he’s enjoying this verbal sparring.
I clench my jaw. “I’ll… I’ll…”
“Scream at the top of your lungs? Bang your tiny little fists raw?” He chuckles again, and I fight the urge to head-butt him. “Because that plan has been workingsowell for you. “
“You’re demon-spawn.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Thank god for small miracles,” I snap. “Now let me go.”
“In a minute. When you’re calm.”
I thrash again, but it’s a halfhearted attempt. All I manage to do is land myself more firmly in his lap. Even in his semi-inebriated state, he’s far stronger than me.
Damn it.
Damn him.
Much to my dismay, I realize there’s only one way out of this. I expel a sharp breath and strive to slow my rapid pulse.
Breathe, Emilia.
Just breathe.
For the next few moments, we simply sit there — two strangers pressed together in the dark, his body cradling mine like a steel glove. I attempt to calm myself in slow degrees, focusing on the rhythm of my breaths, matching their tempo to his. And though it’s totally insane… though the man at my back is quite possibly the most infuriating human being to ever cross my path… for the first time all night, for the first time since I saw the news about the Lancasters… the panic coursing through my veins eases, tempered by the stirring of another emotion. The fight drains out of me, and in its place…
Not calm.
Not peace of mind.
Not rational thought.
My heartbeat, which by all accounts should be slowing, begins to speed. The tempo of my breath increases, faster and faster, in time with each warm exhale I feel against my neck. Without any conscious effort at all, my spine bows slightly against his chest. I feel his thigh muscles flex beneath me and an unbidden bolt of arousal shoots straight between my legs.
Oh, god.
Oh, no.
This cannot be happening.
The currents in the air change, one sort of tension fading into another so swiftly, I can’t quite define the moment I stop feeling like a captive in his hands. So subtly, I can’t pinpoint the second his hold alters from one of confinement to… something quite different.