He looks into my eyes. “Now stay still and let me look at you.”
I turn my head to the side.
He laughs. “Fine. You look better from that angle anyway.”
I snort.
“Your lashes are so thick. Are they real?”
I don’t answer.
“I think they are. You must be using one of Fiona’s mascaras.”
Of course I am.
He sniffs my neck. I feel his breath against my skin and my stomach tightens.
“No perfume? Pity.”
He transfers both my wrists to one hand so he can grasp my chin. I try to pull away but he holds it fast. I purse my lips.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss you. I have other things in mind.”
I suppress a shudder.
His fingers travel down my throat and then down my chest, all the way down the middle of my neckline. I tense as they wander dangerously close to my breasts.
They go further down, though, to my sash. I hear him grunt in disapproval, and then, to my shock, he grips the sash and pulls it away. Beads clatter on the floor.
What the…?
“Better,” he mutters.
Better for what?
“But now I need both hands.”
He glances at the shackles hanging from the ceiling. Panic floods through me.
No way. If he ties my hands there, he’ll be completely in control of me. I won’t be able to do anything against him.
I can’t let that happen.
As he drags me to the other side of the room, I try to think of something fast. My eyes fall on the horsewhip.
If I can get myself free of him, I can use that as a weapon and then I can escape. But how?
As he lifts my arms to put them into the shackles, I decide to turn to my side and use all of my strength to land a powerful kick on his crotch. It connects and he shrieks as he falls to the floor.
As soon as he’s down, I run to the wall to grab the whip but he grabs my gown.
“Bitch!”
I keep going, ignoring the sound of tearing fabric. I go for the whip. I’ve only just grabbed it when I feel his hand on my arm.
How is he standing?
He pulls my arm and slaps me across the face. The force knocks my breath away and sends me reeling towards the floor. I hear him laughing as I rub the mark his ring has left on my cheek.
“Looks like Gavin didn’t teach you to behave,” he says as he rubs his hands. “But don’t worry, you will when I’m done with you.”
He walks towards me. I try to get up. I still feel dizzy from his blow but I know I can’t give up. As soon as he’s above me, I swing the whip at his face with all my might.
“Shit!” he shouts.
I drop the whip and run to the door. Before I can reach it, though, he grabs me again. His eyes are full of rage now. The gash on his cheek is bleeding. He lifts the whip with his other hand as he grits his teeth.
“Why, you…”
“Stop!”
Chapter Eighteen
Gavin
As I follow Fiona across the ballroom, I can hear murmurs from the crowd. The way they suddenly fall silent as I pass by, their chatter replaced by intent gazes heavy with judgment, sends an ominous feeling to my gut. I frown.
What the hell is going on?
I barely had a moment to catch my breath after arriving, much less to get a drink, when I saw Fiona walking towards me.
Hurriedly. Not gracefully as usual. I knew then that something was wrong.
When she told me that Leah was at the party, I was shocked.
How did she get here? I didn’t tell her about the Ball. I didn’t have a chance. That’s why I didn’t have the slightest suspicion that she’d show up.
As the shock faded, confusion set in. Even now, the questions keep coming. What is Leah doing here? Did she come to see me? Why? Didn’t she tell me to leave her alone? How did she even know I’d be here when I haven’t been home for days?
Or is that why she’s here? Because she knows I’m not going to be here?
That last thought makes my stomach clench. She’s not here to meet someone else, is she?
I try to shrug it off, but I can’t. If Leah knows about the Ball, she must know about what happens during the Ball. Still, she came.
She came without me. A prize without a protector. A sheep among wolves. A deer during open season.
Fuck.
I step beside Fiona. “Where the hell is she?”
She doesn’t answer. She just walks faster, leading me away from the crowd, away from the ballroom. I follow her down some steps and a dim corridor lined with closed doors.
Wait a minute. Aren’t these rooms…?
Finally, she opens one of the doors. She stops in the doorway, though, with an expression of disbelief. I make my way past her and barge straight into the room.