Don't Promise (Don't 3)

I didn’t care about Sutcliffe’s warnings. Fuck caution. The hunger inside me had been growing since I awoke restless in my empty bed. Every inch of me wanting and needing another taste of Molly.

Until I had her again, I wouldn’t be satisfied.

16

Molly

The library at the Conservatory was more crowded than usual. I had to hunt for a space in my favorite corner. I was a creature of habit. I liked to sit in the same area. I frowned when I saw a guy with shaggy blond hair taking up two seats at once.

I took the table next to his, casting nasty stares in his direction. I’d never seen him here before. I cracked my laptop, skimming for where I left off two days ago.

It seemed as if every time I rounded a corner of research, it only uncovered more roads for me to follow. That was my problem now. I was at a crossroads. I had several options, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied if I took a short-cut route. The only way to move in the right direction was if I received permission from the Literary Institute in London to examine one of the rare collections they housed. But access was so limited that they regularly denied professors, let alone PhD students.

My stomach did a little backflip as I opened the application for the London Institute and began to fill in the blanks. This opportunity could make or break my dissertation. What if I was rejected? They were infamously selective about who they let in to review the texts. I crossed my fingers when I hit send that I’d be one of the lucky few.

“Holy shit,” The student next to me whispered.

I turned to tell him that if he was going to take up two seats, the least he could do was be quiet. Instead I was distracted by his expression. I looked up in time to see four men in dark suits walking toward our corner. There was something familiar about them. I didn’t have time to put it together.

They were in front of my table.

“Molly Washington.”

“Yes?” I eked.

“Mademoiselle, please come with us.”

I stared at them. Shaggy blond hadn’t picked up his jaw yet.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I looked around, searching for some kind of life line.

“Come with us.” It was an order.

“Who are you?” The guy finally spoke up, still slouched behind his computer.

The first suit eyed him, unimpressed. “This is a royal concern.” His voice boomed loud enough to silence any further interference. The quiet library was suddenly like a graveyard. Everyone gawked at me.

I pulled my shoulders back. He couldn’t be serious. I was being summoned?

“What does he want?” I whispered.

“Matters of His Majesty aren’t discussed in open forums. Come.” He motioned to me to follow.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being summoned without a reason. I didn’t like that I hadn’t heard from Damon.

I leaned forward. “No,” I whispered. “You can tell His Majesty to call me if he’d like to speak to me.” I glanced at my screen and pretended to ignore them.

I was smug. A little too smug. Proud that I had fended off the royal guard. But within seconds they had closed in around me, each one pulling under my arms and lifting me from the chair.

“Hey!” I yelped. I kicked my legs. “Put me down.”

They didn’t speak, but continued to carry me through the maze of tables and rows of books.

“You can’t just take me like this,” I hissed. I looked around for a librarian or someone to step in, but the crowd watched in awe.

I wiggled fruitlessly while they placed me in the back of a car marked with the royal crest and shut the door. I tried the handle but it was locked. There was no way out. I beat on the glass.

This was insane.