Cruel Intoxication (Underground Kings 4)

I stare at his tattooed hand; even the palms are inked.

“I promise, it’s okay,” Owen urges me, and since I trust him, I’ll trust Jaxon.

Gripping onto Owen’s shirt with my left hand, I reach my right one out and meet Jaxon. His tattoos swim over my pale, plain skin, and I feel overwhelmed. Tears threaten to fall from the brief contact with another person, a different person. It’s so different than what I’ve been conditioned to want.

I let go suddenly, unable to hold on longer because I need a minute.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jaxon says, taking a step away.

My heart races, and sweat breaks out over my body when a loud voice booms down the hall.

“No, you eat it!”

“I’m not eating it, Heaven,” another voice says.

“I dare you. Five-thousand dollars,” the original man dares.

“I’m not eating that nasty goddamn Cheetos from your cast. You eat it!”

Two men enter the kitchen, and one is tall with brown hair, brown eyes, with an annoyed look on his face. He’s scowling at the other man who is waving a Cheeto in front of his face. The guy seems younger than the rest of them with an immaturity in his eyes that matches a teenager.

There are too many people in here. All eyes are on me. The guys stop bickering about the Cheeto when they notice me. I’m surrounded by men. Oh God.

“Hey, anyone seen my phone? I can’t find it,” another says as he enters from a different hall. “Oh, Owen, you’re back. Good, we missed ya, buddy.”

“Guys, where are the girls?”

“They went to town to get their nails done.” Jaxon rolls his eyes.

I’m alone.

With all men.

I hold a hand to my heart and take a step away from them. They’re going to kill me. The girls Owen said live here don’t exist. It was all a rouse. He trapped me here. They’re going to want to do what my kidnapper did to me. I can’t breathe. My throat is closing in. I gasp and stumble backward, slamming against the edge of the breakfast table.

“You’re okay.” Owen spins around and holds out his hand. “Remember, you can trust me. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

That’s easy for him to say. There isn’t five men looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

“You need to take deeper, longer breaths or you’re going to pass out,” Owen warns me.

I whimper when he takes a step closer. I’m so weak, but all I see and feel is the man Owen killed, the man who kept me prisoner.

Am I a prisoner again?

Owen and the rest of his friends’ faces morph into my worst nightmare. Long stringy hair, a wicked smile, and hungry eyes.

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head and do my best to snap out of this trance I’m in, this fear that’s taken root.

Owen isn’t bad. He saved me. He killed for me. He’s done nothing wrong.

“It's okay. I'm Hea—”

“Don’t fucking rush her, Heaven. Stay away,” Owen scolds his friend as he approaches.

“I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“She isn’t okay.” Owen sighs. “Give her some space. You guys are freaking her the fuck out.”