Page 87 of Delivered to the Devil

With a sigh, I pause at the end of the passageway and my eyes roam across the empty space. I take a step forward, into the light, but my foot barely connects with the ground before someone shoves me back into the darkness. It happens so fast that all I see is a shadow before my cheek is pressed against the raw concrete wall and my arm is in a tight lock behind my back.

“Miért követsz engem?” a deep voice snarls against my ear as a massive hand grabs the back of my neck.

My heart pounds away with a force that has my knees trembling. But it’s not fear driving up my pulse anymore. It’s relief. Pure, earth-rattling relief.

It’s him.His touch, his size, his voice, his strength. I feel it all too clearly despite the barrier of my hoodie.

I slacken in his hold, instinctively giving in to his control even though it’s cold and detached as on the first night. I don’t care how I get it, I just want it.

My surrender seems to cause some reaction within him. His hand on my neck tightens and loosens a few times, almost like he’s feeling for something. Maybe recognition? But then his grip becomes punishing as he growls into my ear.

“Why are you following me?”

I’m too overwhelmed to react. The sound of his voice is a shock to my system—a blissful mind-numbing shock that paralyzes me. It takes me a full minute to get a choked word out.

“Janos—” My voice breaks off. The feeling of his name on my lips is too much. Tears well in my eyes, and my jaw starts to tremble.

Time stops. Janos stiffens and his hot breaths against my ear halt. A deep growl sets his breaths rolling again, this time at a hastened speed. His hand slides around my neck to wrap around the front. It’s slow and gentle, almost probing as if he’s feeling for something—checking if it really is me.

I draw in a sharp breath at the feeling of his strong hand directly on my skin. The shaking spreads through my body, and I rest my head against the collar of his hand, closing my eyes as I soak up the safety—the danger.

His thumb makes a single swipe across my skin. It’s achingly tender, but gone in a second. In the blink of an eye, he releases me and spins me around, slamming my back into the unforgiving wall. His nostrils flare as he stares down at me with furious eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I flicker my eyes across his angry features, and suddenly, I’m not sure myself. My reckless bravery goesswoosh, and all I feel is stupid and naïve as I realize he doesn’t want me here.

Turning my head to the side, I pant through the pressing grief in my throat and blink away the tears in my eyes.

“Answer me,” he growls, shaking me by the arms.

When I won’t meet his eyes, he grabs my arm and yanks me away from the wall. “You shouldn’t be here.” He hauls me out of the passageway, back in the direction from which he came.

When I dare a glance up at him, he’s staring straight ahead, his face cold and closed off.

“Keep your head down,” he snarls with a bite that’s unusual even for him.

Startled, I lower my head and glue my eyes to the pavement.

His cold demeanor is a slam to the gut, and I want to break free from his grasp and run away—abandon my foolish plan that I knew, deep down, couldn’t bring anything good. But even if I had the slightest chance of escaping him, I couldn’t do it. Because even though he’s clearly not happy to see me, the thought of being away from him is even worse than being unwanted and at his side. There’s no self-preservation left in the face of his powerful command.

Once we’re back at the solid wooden door that I’ve been monitoring for the past hour, he scans a plastic card that unlocks the door and shoves me inside. Without a word, he drags me into the elevator, where he scans the card again and presses number four. Fear creeps along my spine as the doors close and his simmering anger fills the tiny space.

When I try to lift my head and glance up, he shoves it back down with a tight grip on my neck, leaving only his polished leather shoes and my worn sneakers in my view.

His familiar scent envelops me in the enclosed space, and it’s almost too much. I long to reach out and feel his strong chest—the chest that I found comfort in so many times when he held me in my red chair or carried me to the shower after a hard night with Gabor. Or reach up and feel my hand disappear into his wide one—the hand that held mine when I was most broken and life was slipping through my fingers. The hand I haven’t felt for months.

A ding sounds, the elevator stops, and the doors slide open.

Janos drags me onto a balcony that stretches along the side of the building above an enclosed courtyard. I get the feeling that the security system is top-notch when he opens two locks on a solid door before shoving me into a hall and locking the door with as many locks from the inside.

I stand awkwardly in the unfamiliar hall, not daring to do anything but stare down at the shiny floor while Janos disappears into the apartment to draw the curtains and blinds in several rooms.

When he returns, he stops right in front of me, invading my personal space with his intoxicating scent and overpowering presence.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.

My throat is still tight, and when he pushes my hood down, his hand gracing my hair along the way, moisture coats my eyes. I can only shake my head as I try to figure out what to say.

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