Page 28 of Dominant

Alexander stepped away from me. I missed his heat, its absence became a vacuum. All I could think of was how much I wanted him, how much I needed to feel him.

Alexander.

The room spun. My thoughts became incomprehensible, and my head rolled forward, the scene fading to black.

The last thing I heard was Alexander shouting.

Alexander

“Stop!” I yelled to Sir Vicious. My voice wasn’t my own. “Untie her right now!”

I rushed forward, unclasping the cuffs from her wrists and looked to Merriman, who stood in stunned confusion, cane raised in the air. Exasperated, I pushed him away and untied Jordan’s leg cuffs, and then tried to pull her up from her shoulders. She slumped down, a dead weight.

Mark stepped forward from the group of spectators, and reached for her other arm. We lifted her off the bench, and with one hand, Mark managed to pull her dress down to her ankles. She drooped downwards but her eyelids fluttered with consciousness.

“Get my car,” I said under my breath to Mark. Jordan rolled towards me, and I squeezed her tight, pulling her upright.

He sprung into action, rushing down the hallway, while I pulled Jordan in towards me, breathing in the shampoo smell of her hair. She was boneless, falling towards the ground limply.

“Jordan,” I said urgently. “Jordan! Wake up. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she murmured softly, her head still lolling. “Alexander.”

I was vaguely aware of Sir Vicious protesting behind me, but I ignored him.

Mark reappeared with Sir Darkness and Mister Strict behind him. “We called your car,” said Sir Darkness, laying my shoes at my feet. I slipped my feet into them, and bent down to slide one arm under Jordan’s knees, picking her up and cradling her in my arms. She was slight and lightweight, and I carried her downstairs as quickly as I could. Her head rolled onto my shoulder in partial consciousness.

My driver was waiting in the driveway, and he hurried to open the back door when he saw me. I thrust Jordan inside, and hopped in after her.

“Stay here and do damage control,” I told Mark, who nodded. Then, “Home,” I said to the driver. I shifted over close to Jordan and put my arm around her. She slumped against me and fell asleep.

By the time we arrived at the penthouse Jordan could stand, but was still disoriented and out of it. My driver helped me get her into the elevator, and hit the PH button for me, while I clutched her, holding her upright.

Her head rolled against my chest as the elevator doors closed, and I let myself wrap an arm around her and hold her against me until we got upstairs, where I managed to shuffle her over to my bedroom - no small feat in a penthouse - and lay her down on my bed.

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking at her thoughtfully.

She seemed okay, passed out in the way of someone who had overindulged, and I had a sudden memory of my mother - tucking her in at night, that terrible and wonderful sense of love. The desire to care for someone. I sighed, and kissed the top of Jordan’s head despite myself.

“What am I going to do with you?” I muttered quietly.

A couple of hours later, the light in the foyer woke me up. Mark walked into the living room where I was sleeping on the couch.

“Hey,” he stage-whispered, and I groaned.

“Hey.”

“Everything okay?” He took a seat across from the couch.

“Yeah, I think. She’s in the bedroom.”

“What the fuck is happening, man? Vicious is beside himself.”

I sat up and dragged my fingers through my hair. “I have no fucking idea. I don’t know why she was there, but it’s a fucking disaster.”

Mark sighed, and leaned back in his chair, lifting his feet and resting them on the coffee table.

“Take off your fucking shoes,” I muttered as I fell back asleep.

I hated when he did that.

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