To Save Sir (Doms of Decadence 7)

There was silence then a low chuckle. “Good to know,” the stranger said.

Then why didn’t he go away? She wanted to pet Curt some more. He was so pretty.

“I am not pretty,” he said in a deep voice.

“Oops, didn’t mean to say that out loud. Oh, well, it’s my dream. Let’s just pretend you never heard that.”

“I’m still trying to figure out what the hell you know about ménages,” he muttered.

“I’m twenty-six, not five. I know what a ménage is. Don’t want one, though.” She frowned over at where the other voice came from. There was another chuckle.

“Travis is just going to cut through that cuff from your ankle, then we’re out of here,” Curt told her.

She felt something cold against her ankle then a tugging that made her hiss with pain.

“Be careful, you’re hurting her,” Curt snapped.

“I’m trying to be careful,” the other man said in a cool voice. “The cuff is so tight it’s dug into her skin. Cover her mouth so she doesn’t make a sound.”

“I’ll be quiet,” she said, feeling panicked. This dream was taking a really weird twist. Even weirder than a possible ménage. “You don’t need to keep me quiet.”

“Just do it, Travis.”

Curt pulled her close, and she pressed her face into his stomach, breathing in his scent as the other man pulled the cuff off her ankle. She bit down on her lip to stifle another cry of pain.

“Done. Let’s go. Do you want me to sedate her? One of us is going to have to carry her since she’s so weak.”

“I am not weak.” She scowled at the asshole who’d been talking to Curt as though she weren’t even here.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to talk about other people? Especially when they’re right here.”

“Nope, can’t say she did. We have to go, Curt. I have the sedative.”

“No. No.” She grabbed Curt’s arm, urgency filling her. They’d pumped her full of something when they’d transported her here, and she’d vomited for so long she’d gotten dehydrated. It was part of the reason she couldn’t bring herself to eat, even now. “I can be quiet. Promise.”

He stared down at her for a few seconds.

“Please, Curt.” Her heart started to race. Now that she was fully awake, she realized this was no dream. He was really here. She was actually touching him. “You came for me.”

He started to pull something up her legs, and she realized he was dressing her. “Of course, I did.”

Relief filled her, along with happiness, elation, and something deeper.

“As soon as your father hired us, we were on a plane to find you.”

Idiot. He was here because he was being paid to. There was no other reason for him to be here.

“You really have to be quiet, little bit. I have a sweatshirt for you. We have to cover up all that white skin of yours.”

He helped her put on the sweatshirt; she winced a few times at the pain from her bruises. But it’s warmth soon took away her shivers. It was cold here at night and stifling hot during the day. She stank from sweat, dirt, and fear, but when she put the sweatshirt on all she could smell was Curt—and safety. She always felt safe with him. As though nothing could touch her when he was around.

He tied something around her hair. A scarf.

“I’m going to carry you now. No matter what you see you can’t make a noise.”

He picked her up in his arms, and for the first time since she’d been taken she knew she was getting out of this alive.

Because Curt was here.