Page 107 of Forbidden Heroes

Her green eyes swim with curiosity and I swear I see them shift and sway like molten emeralds. “How the hell do you expect someone to think when you do all...these...these things to them? I can barely get my brain to work.” Her knees are visibly shaking and I notice Erik take more of her weight in his arms.

As usual, Daemon takes the more direct approach. “Don’t you want to know what all three of your professors would feel like? The party was just a sample, baby girl.” He hauls her into his arms and her legs wrap around his waist. She’s comfortable in his embrace, his mouth on her neck whether she wants to admit to it or not.

I smile to myself. She might be giving up a bit of a fight, but Jemma has already made up her mind. Or her body has at least.

“As long as the dean doesn’t find out…” she draws out, looking at each of us for a long moment. “One week. That’s all I can give.”

We’ll see about that.

Five

Jemma

Erik grabs their coats and we’re off. They steer me down one hall and then the other, not another soul in sight—not a librarian, student—nobody. Which is a good thing.

Everyone else had somewhere to go over winter break. Me, not so much. Going home to see my father looking at me sternly over the edge of his paper and my mother locked away in her library on the phone with one colleague or another isn’t my idea of a nice time.

It surprises me Warren asked. No one but Brooklyn has ever cared enough to wonder why I never took a school holiday.

We take a left down one hall and another left which leads us to the first level. We pass row after row and each step of the way Erik and Daemon are beside me. Their heat is like a shield against all the fear creeping up trying to get me to slam on the brakes. Warren leads the way, his massive back blocking out any random person who might catch a glimpse of me.

I cringe inwardly, hoping my father doesn’t jump out of some doorway to see his daughter between three men.

Erik doesn't seem to care about any of it. He takes my hand in his and gives the back a quick kiss before flashing me a million-watt smile.

Must be nice to be billionaires and not have many people to answer to.

“I don’t have my passport or clothes. I don’t know how well you guys planned this or if you live on the edge and kidnap girls all the time, but this girl needs her lip gloss and clean panties at least. An ID isn’t a bad idea either.”

Warren stops at the last door between us and whatever these men have planned with a wicked glint in his eyes. “If we have our way, you won’t have time to put one on and the other we’ll only smear. Everything else is taken care of.”

Okay. Well, damn. What could I say to that? Before I have time to think up a snappy comeback, freezing Connecticut air hits us all like a brick wall as the men usher me to a waiting car.

I steal a quick look to my right only to find Daemon’s gaze silently asking me, are you ready for this?

We are both about to find out.

My adventurous days extended to the one and only time I tried to sell cookies as a Girl Scout. I got a dog bite and a wicked set of stitches for my troubles.

As soon as I could lift my arm again, I hung up my sash and never wanted another chocolate mint cookie again.

This is no different. I’ve learned the hard way alphas break hearts. That freaking dog served as my initiation and my latest bout—my last boyfriend—did plenty to remind me of those hard truths.

Daemon’s eyes are dark and his chin looks like he could use a shave as always. It’s part of his broody charm. If Warren holds the gold medal for being a grouch who grunts more than speaks when not giving a lecture, Daemon holds the silver medal.

Twenty minutes of silence later I’m being strapped into a plush black leather seat with the softest carpet cushioning my feet.

“We’ll be right back.” I grab for Erik’s hand before he can follow Daemon and Warren to the front of the plane. “Hold on. Seriously? You can’t just kidnap me, plop me in a chair and walk away from me, Professor Black.”

“Erik.”

I wrinkle my nose. “What?”

“Erik, sweetheart.” His gaze drops to my lips. “We’ve exchanged bodily fluids, Jemma. Call me Erik.”

Flaming red doesn’t begin to explain the burn creeping up my neck. “Sorry. Old habits.”

I manage to swallow my utter embarrassment and find my voice. “Fine. Erik. Mind telling me how you have my passport and where we are going?”

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