Desire curled through my stomach. “That’s good because I don’t share either, and I think you already know who I belong to.”
A growl reverberated up his throat, and he pressed his face into the sensitive flesh of my neck. “Mine,” he grated.
Shivers rushed and raced, and I tried to remain steady.
“Come on, you two,” Melanie cut in from where she waited behind. She pointed at Royce when he swiveled to look at her. “You can dirty her up later, but if you mess up her makeup right now, I’m gonna drop-kick your ass right out of here.”
He raised both hands in surrender. “I didn’t even touch her.”
“Liar. You have glitter on your face.”
Royce chuckled. God, I loved that sound.
Melanie snapped her fingers in the air. “Let’s roll.”
Royce wrapped an arm around my waist, protectively guiding me down the packed hall, shouldering through the throng of people who bustled one direction or another, through the disorder that blustered and spun, the chaos only adding to the thrill.
We hooked a right at one passageway, taking it before we made a left into another. I nearly stumbled in my tracks when I heard the voice on the microphone echoing through the theater as the year’s best video was awarded.
Cory Douglas.
I sucked in a lurching breath. My heart leapt into a rebellious sprint. As if it were making a bid to escape. To hide. To flee.
Fear blanketed my mind. Despair sinking in my spirit. Panic a stampede in my veins.
I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
“Yes, you can.” Big hands were on my face, trying to get into my blackened vision, to find me in the storm. I didn’t even realize I’d said the words aloud. Didn’t know how I remained standing as alarms blared in the ugliest recesses of my head.
Mind back in his room.
Prisoner to the depravity of his voice.
“Do you hear me?” Royce demanded, words razors, none of his fury directed at me. “You can.”
“I don’t . . .” I hiccupped over the crash of fear. Legs weak. How could one moment in time become my greatest stumbling block? But I hadn’t dealt. Hadn’t let it go. Hadn’t healed.
Kept it secreted for so long that right then, in that moment, the truth of it was overwhelming.
In the flash of a second, I was whirled around and whisked into a private spot where the only thing I could feel was Royce.
The man a tower over me.
His presence thick and severe and daunting.
“I won’t let him hurt you, Emily. Never. You are safe. Listen to me. You are safe. I will never let anything happen to you. I’ll die first. Other than getting on that stage, don’t leave my side. Remember, we are taking him down. Together.”
Royce tightened his hold. “Don’t let him steal this moment from you. Don’t let him steal another second. He’s going to pay. That bastard is enjoying his last few minutes of freedom. I promise you that.”
Struggling to see through the terror, I lifted my head to meet the murderous expression etched on his face. The savagery in his eyes.
“I want to be strong. I don’t want to be powerless.”
“You aren’t. Not even close. I can feel your spirit from a hundred miles away. You have the strength. The courage. It shines . . . burns from you . . . so fiercely that it’s blinding. You can’t let him dim it. Strength isn’t just physical, Emily. It’s what’s in you, down deep inside. Show him you’re unstoppable. Show him why he’s the one who should be afraid.”
I thought maybe he heard me trying to convince myself because he was murmuring, “I believe in you. I’ve never believed in anyone the way I believe in you.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead, and he murmured the word against my skin as if he wanted to write it on my heart and mind, “Soulshine.”
But the truth of it was that he was mine.
What made me burn.
I nodded frantically against the soft embrace. Gulped back the panic. Tried to bind the fear. “Okay,” I rushed.
Relief blasted across Royce’s expression. “Good girl. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Royce led me back to the edge of the stage where the rest of the band was gathered, waiting for our cue.
Richard shot me a look of worry, and Royce shot him one back, standing staunch at my side, a barrier from the rest of the world.
Terror quivered in a wave under my skin when Cory Douglas started to exit the stage with the members of the popular country band that had just received their award.
From where he stood next to me, a palpable rush of anxiety rolled through Richard. His own apprehensive awareness skittering through his spirit.
But I could barely contemplate it. Not with the tremor of sickness that rolled through my body.
A tumble of dread.
Blond hair unkempt the way he always wore it, the disgusting man smiling his outrageous smile, knowing people were fawning over him. Wanting to touch him and have a piece of him, while I wanted to rush out, grab a mic, and shout what he’d done.