Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

Straddling her body, he pushed the knife against her throat while sliding his free hand underneath the hem of her dress. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Even with the fabric preventing their skins from touching, she wanted to throw up when he lowered his body onto hers. His weight pushed her deeper into the mattress.

Nuzzling her temple, he inhaled deeply before dragging his tongue over her skin. “I’m going to cut you to pieces while fucking you.”

A shiver of horror racked her body. She allowed her hatred to fuel her courage. While he licked down her neck and back up to her ear, she searched for the cord of the chandelier that hung from the ceiling but groped nothing but air. The movement caused her body to rub against his erection. He uttered a satisfied groan and pushed the knife down harder on her neck. The blade nicked her skin, leaving a burning sensation just under her jaw.

Where was the cord? She didn’t have a choice but to turn her head for a visual, giving him better access to her neck. His hand fastened on her hip under her dress, his thumb hooking into the elastic of her underwear. Swallowing the sob that almost escaped, she sighed with relief when her fingers finally wrapped around the rough nylon. She twisted the cord around one hand while fisting the other in his hair.

He arched his back, driving the blade deeper. “That’s it. Give me a fight, honey. I’m going to come in you while you blow out your last breath.”

Using her grip on his hair to keep his head in place, she whispered in his ear, “With Angelique watching?”

His body turned rigid. He jerked his head up so hard he left her with strands of his hair between her fingers. There was so much hatred in his eyes as he stared at her, his nostrils flaring and his lips pulled back from his teeth, she was certain he was going to slit her throat that very second. Not giving him the option, she jerked on the cord with all her might.

Everything happened in a split second. The two bolts on the fitting she’d loosened dropped from the ceiling. The chandelier tilted with a fragile shaking of glass beads before the heavy weight pulled down the rest. She ducked under Godfrey’s body, holding his head like a shield above her own. With the position she’d taken, the prop hit him right on the back of the head. The sound of jingling crystal filled the room like Christmas bells. The force of the impact knocked his forehead against hers, her skin stinging from the blow, but she didn’t wait to assess the damage.

Frantically pushing on his shoulders, she managed to roll him enough to wiggle out from under his weight. She scurried to the edge of the bed and jumped to her feet, ready to defend herself, but his body was motionless. A trickle of blood ran from his crown through his hair.

Wanting nothing more than to put distance between her and the man on the bed, she forced her feet to move back to the edge of the mattress, taking stock of the situation. Godfrey’s arms lay next to his body, bent at the elbows, the knife still in his hand. She poked his side, but he remained motionless. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, giving her the strength she needed to pry the weapon from his hand. With the knife clutched in her own, she climbed over his body and pushed the point of the blade against his back.

Swallowing several times to get rid of the bile in her throat, she reached around his body and shoved her hand into the pocket of his pants. It was a tight fit and took precious seconds to pull out the key. With the means of escape in her hand, she hopped off the bed and rushed to the door. Her fingers trembled so much she dropped the key twice before fitting it into the hole. Throwing a last glance over her shoulder at the body on the bed, she fled the room. She locked the door behind her and leaned on the wood to gulp in some air, her teeth chattering.

Freedom. She’d made it. She had to get to Ivan to let him know she was all right before he gave in to Godfrey’s demands. If she ran into Boris on her way, she’d give that sick dead son of a bitch a piece of her mind. At least now she knew he couldn’t touch her, which meant physically he couldn’t harm her. Her mind was clear enough to realize that Godfrey had breached their security and somehow made it into the theater, which meant there was still a chance that someone else was waiting to finish the job. A shifter, maybe.