Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

Until he forced his tongue in my mouth, and I paused, realizing something was off. I froze, inhaling deeply through my nose.

No Davidoffs. Not even a hint of any cigarettes on his skin, his breath, his hair...

I fought, screaming into his mouth as I ripped my arms out of his grasp and slapped him across the face.

“You’re not Damon?” I barked.

He grabbed my wrists, securing them above my head once again. His hot breath fell on my face, and I breathed fast and shallow, his weight on me too heavy.

“And you’re not fucking him like he said, are you?”

Michael? What the hell was he doing here?

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Get off me,” I growled, squirming. “What are you doing?”

It would be just my luck for one of the guys—or worse, my brother—to walk in right now and look for some way to make this my fault.

He released one of my wrists, leaning to my left, and the next thing I knew, the light was on, and Michael Crist was staring down at me.

Releasing my other arm, he propped himself up, letting his eyes drift down my body. I quickly pulled my shirt back down.

He smirked. “No wonder he keeps you under wraps.”

He rolled off me, onto his back, and laid at my side, sliding an arm underneath his head.

“I sometimes feel possessive of Rika Fane like that, too,” he said, turning his gaze on me. “Although she’s not my sister.”

I dug in my eyebrows, suddenly on alert. How did…

He knew?

Or maybe he just suspected, and I’d confirmed it when I freaked out during his little gamble.

He half-smiled, probably amused by the confusion on my face. “You look just like him. I don’t know how Kai doesn’t see it.”

“I’m not his sister, and—”

“Damon’s business is Damon’s business.” He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. “But you’re ruining Kai’s night, kid.”

I rolled my eyes, sitting up as well. “Well, I’m out of the way now,” I pointed out. “You and your bestie can go have a ball.”

He laughed, holding my gaze. “I have a better idea,” he said, giving my thigh a slap. “Let’s go into the city.”

And then he reached down, grabbing my ankles, and yanking me to the end of the bed.

“What?” I slid over the sheets, falling to my back. “No!”

But my protest fell on deaf ears. He hauled me up, and my heart caught in my throat as he threw me over his shoulder, and my whole world turned upside down as I dangled more than six feet off the ground.

“You can’t!” I thrashed, making him stumble. “I’m not even dressed!”

“Jesus Christ!” he barked, falling into the nightstand. I shot my hands out to the wall to keep us from falling.

“You know, I’m getting tired of telling assholes to let me go,” I told him.

“So, don’t. You know you want to go.”