Page 3 of A King So Savage

Strong hands moved Ava until she was sprawled sideways in what was obviously a man’s lap. She was cradled like one would hold a doll. Settled into a position which left her legs dangling over a pair of muscular thighs. Beneath her buttocks, something hard and unyielding twitched in response to her involuntary movements.

Ava’s eyelashes fluttered, her head tilting back. Her gaze became more focused as she stared up at the man holding her.

He was beautiful. Achingly, dangerously beautiful.

He possessed finely molded features, his skin lightly tanned and boasting a razor-sharp jawline shadowed with dark stubble. High cheekbones. Full, sensual lips, which now quirked upward with a hint of cruelty as Ava studied him in dazed confusion.

A mop of dark hair, so dark it was almost black, lay styled into well-groomed waves. Any girl would want to run her fingers through such luxuriousness with the express purpose of ruining its perfection.

Lifting a hand to do just that, she discovered her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. After a few seconds, she gave up with a little sigh of defeat.

A swirling myriad of dark blue and black fighting for dominance, his eyes were hypnotic and framed by thick, ebony-hued eyelashes.

He peered down at Ava as if he already knew every one of her secrets. As if he knew all her dreams and desires and it was his fervent mission to crush each and every one of those fragile petals into dust beneath a brutal fist.

His face was strangely familiar. Ava was sure sheknewhim. But how? Maybe he was a doctor. Here to administer emergency care.

Only, he didn’t look like a doctor. At least, not like any of the ones she’d encountered before. He looked like a terrible, dark angel sent to torment her.

Besides, would a doctor hold her in such an inappropriate manner?

Would an angel?

Attempting to place his features from memory made Ava’s head swim. Whatever they’d given her as medication was now making her nauseous.

“Free Miss Blue’s hands, Oliver,” the man murmured while returning Ava’s dazed stare. She did not realize her eyes were watering until he gently whisked the tears from her cheeks with a calloused forefinger.

I’m restrained?That explained why her arms did not work. Awareness rushed in as the man shifted Ava within the cradle of his lap. She was being held so tight. In fact, he gripped her as though she was something highly treasured. Something valuable.

Or maybe he was simply preventing her escape.

From the corner of her eye, Ava saw someone step forward. She did not know his identity, but a sharp pang of fear stabbed her gut. His face was wavy as her eyes continued adjusting to the room’s light.

The man holding her called him “Oliver.”

I don’t know anyone named Oliver…

But she recognized him, even if she had no clue who he actually was. It washim… the man who smiled at her in the hotel elevator.

Oliver’s grin was callous as he stepped forward, a razor-sharp switchblade held with casual indifference in his right hand. Light blue eyes regarded Ava with curiosity. Chestnut dark hair fell over his brow in an almost endearing manner. There was a strange gleam in his penetrating gaze. He wanted to hurt her. He would, too, if given the chance.

Fear clawed its way up Ava’s throat, panic flapping around the walls of her chest until she couldn’t breathe. Everything within her demanded she escape. Get away.

Save yourself…

Sensing Ava’s unease, the man whose lap she was sitting on again tightened his arms around her. Squeezing with subtle threat, he snaked a large hand between her bare legs. Hard fingers dug into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. With a gasp of shock, she tried closing them, but he merely chuckled at her efforts.

“Settle, Miss Blue.”

There was the likelihood of being sliced into bits by either the man holding her or his partner, but Ava froze in place at the softly spoken command. Wild tremors rushed through her body as she processed the man’s hands touching her with such intimate brutality.

Oliver snatched up Ava’s wrists and, with a smirk, sliced through the zip-ties. An older man, with a headful of salt and pepper hair and calm brown eyes, shoved past him and thrust a glass of water at her. His smile was warm and oddly out of place.

“Thank you, Paulie,” her captor murmured, his chest rumbling against Ava’s shoulder as she automatically grabbed the glass. It was cut crystal, so heavy and chunky she nearly dropped it. With nerveless fingers, she somehow cupped it within her palms.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked in a scratchy voice. Then her lips pressed into a firm line. Why was she apologizing? It wasn’t her fault her hands were numb. Staring at her wrists, she dumbly registered the faint red lines etched into her skin. The zip-ties left a mark despite her apparently being unconscious while restrained.

Plucking the glass away from her nerveless fingers with an audible sigh, the man held it to her lips. Although Ava’s brain protested being treated like a helpless invalid, she gratefully drank until the glass was lowered and set aside.

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