Page 8 of Brutal Ice

This time, he kissed her. Soft. Careful. His tongue dipped between her parted lips, and she was absolutely lost. No other word for it. Animal instinct took over again as a driving, primitive need swept through her. Lust. Hunger. Desire.

He kissed her with care and a tender savagery that called to something deep inside of her. He tasted her as if he had all the time in the world. She tasted him as if she’d been dying of thirst and he was truly the best drink she’d ever been offered. Her first sip of wine.

And…

He pulled away. “Go.” Gruff. “Before I decide to keep you.”

A joke, of course. Wait, wasn’t it? She scrambled toward the door even as one hand rose to her lips. She could still taste him.

She wanted more.

Her fingers fumbled and opened the door. “I won’t forget you.”

“I’d rather you did. As soon as you walk into the station, please do forget all important descriptors when it comes to me.”

She wanted to look at him again, but she didn’t. She opened the door. Stood. Felt the pavement bite into her bare feet. Violet started to take a step forward but found she couldn’t move.

“I won’t leave until you get inside the station.” Low. “I’ll have my eyes on you the whole time. You’re safe when I’m watching you.”

You’re safe when I’m watching you.

Her head moved in a slow nod. One foot lifted. Then the other. Jerky movements. Like she was one of those old wind-up robots that lurched and staggered its way forward.

Step by step, she got closer to the lights of the station. Even though the urge was strong, Violet didn’t glance back over her shoulder. One step. Another.

Inside the station, the officer behind the counter looked up. Frowned.

She kept advancing. Lurching. Creeping. Violet grabbed for the door. Her fingers curled around the handle, and she wrenched it open. “Help…” Too soft. She swallowed. “Help me!”

The uniformed cop ran from behind the counter. “Ma’am? Ma’am, what happened?”

“I was…kidnapped. Taken…”

His hands curled around her arms.

She did look back. In that last moment, she did.

She saw the Lexus’s taillights as her savior drove away.

Chapter Two

Being a hero absolutely freaking sucked. Royal didn’t care what BS the books and movies shouted to the world. Heroes didn’t win. They didn’t always stop the villain. And they damn well did not get the girl.

Instead, the villain got away. Got to slink off into the night in order to kill again another day, and, as for the girl…

She walked away. She didn’t look back. She went back to her world. The bright lights. The fans. Snow White went right back to dancing on her stage to the roar of the crowd.

And the hero went right back to hell.

And, in this particular instance, hell was the fundraising party where the rich and obnoxious of Savannah, Georgia, were currently milling around in their bright jewels, gossiping about everything under the sun, and truly destroying the last bit of patience that he possessed.

What in the hell am I doing here?

Two weeks had passed since Royal had dropped Violet’s gorgeous ass off at the Savannah PD. Two weeks since the press had gotten wind of her story. Two weeks since half the town started thinking she was a victim, and half the town became convinced she was a publicity whore trying to drum up more attendance for the upcoming production of her ballet.

The evidence said she’d been taken. Real evidence that the cops had uncovered. A surveillance video from the back of the theater that clearly showed a ski-mask-wearing prick tackling Violet to the ground before he carried her limp body off the screen. And doctors had examined her. Her concussion had been very real.

Violet had even remembered where she’d been taken. She’d been able to describe the vineyard and old winery that she saw. When I carried her sweet ass out of there.

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