Pulling it back, he angled his head, eyes moving places they shouldn’t. “Even prettier up close, too. Distance is a disservice.”

I grimaced, words creaking, “You’re too kind.”

“Good thing I’m here . . . up real close where I can get a good look.”

Unease rolled across my flesh. A flicker of panic.

What a creep.

I looked around for Melanie or the security guard. Melanie’s head was poked outside the door, most likely talking to the security guard who was probably getting the next group. I prepared to give the signal, the one we used when someone was getting a little too friendly.

“How about you and I have a drink?” he asked.

The smile I forced was brittle. So fake I could feel it cracking. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“No, thank you.”

I started to tug at my ear the way that Melanie and I had agreed as our signal. But I didn’t have time before he flew forward, a hand pawing at my hip, the man slurring through a laugh, “Ahh, come on, you don’t have to be so shy.”

The dam holding back my panic crumbled.

It surged free.

Hitting my bloodstream at warp speed.

Hot and ugly and despairing.

There was nothing I could do.

Nothing to stop it.

Memories assaulted me. Picture after revolting picture invading my mind.

A hand on my throat. Binds on my wrists. A plea on my mouth. “Don’t. Please.”

“Don’t touch me,” I shrieked at the man, ramming my fists to his chest as a full bout of horror took hold.

Fight or flight.

I intended on doing both.

But I didn’t have the time to think another step through because the guy was being tossed to the side.

Cool rushed in to take his place, and I tried to get a breath, to remind myself I was just fine, that no one could hurt me, to clear the panic clouding sight and reason.

But the images kept coming.

Assaulting.

Bashing.

Ruining.

Tossing me back in their hole.

“Emmy Love. Begging doesn’t change a thing. A debt’s owed. Simple as that. Sorry your name came up when the debt came due. Though I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Air wheezed down my throat, and I was barely processing the menacing words that reverberated through the room. “Even think about looking at her again and you bleed, motherfucker.”

“Hey, man, I was just trying to get my shirt signed. Bitch freaked the fuck out for no reason.”

Another growl. This one low. “You really want to die tonight, don’t you?”

Anxiety seized every cell in my body.

Knees went weak.

Legs gave out.

Then onyx eyes were flashing white violence in my blurry sight.

A storm of aggression.

A blaze of brutality.

Arms were around me before I could fall, and I was suddenly floating.

Cradled.

Held.

“I’ve got you, Emily. Shh. I’ve got you.”

I loosely looped my arms around the back of his neck, pressing my face to the tattoo at the front, inhaling deep.

Safety and warmth.

“Royce,” I whimpered. There was nothing I could do. It broke, a flood of tears seeping from my eyes and into his hot skin.

My spirit wept with the realization that this might never end.

I might always be a prisoner.

Trapped.

Unable to get free of this.

A sob burst up my throat, and I buried it in the tremor of his thick throat.

“I’ve got you, Precious. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise you that.” He murmured the words as he carried me out a door at the far end of the room and into a gloomy hall that ran the back of the club.

The door slammed behind us.

Voices seeped through the walls, shouts and a scuffle, and it only made me cry harder.

A big hand was rubbing my back, the man carrying me as if I didn’t weigh a thing, his strength wrapping me whole.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He turned and slid down the wall, sitting on the floor and cradling me in his lap.

This massive, dangerous, intimidating man brushed tender fingers through my hair, whispered soothing words to the top of my head, “He can’t hurt you. He’s gone, Emily. He’s gone. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever again. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Not ever again.

Not ever again.

But he didn’t know what I’d been through. What I was dealing with now. And the last thing I wanted to be was some kind of damsel in distress. But sometimes the weight of the war you were fighting felt like too much.

I held tighter to his neck. “He touched me,” I hiccupped.

“I know. I saw. He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

My eyes squeezed shut. “I hate this, Royce. I hate it so much. Someone even looks at me funny, and I’m fallin’ apart. This isn’t who I am.”

Anger radiated from his massive body, and he tightened his huge arms around me. “He touched you without permission. You don’t have to apologize for reacting.”

The door suddenly banged open.

Our attention jumped that way.

Tags: A.L. Jackson Falling Stars Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net