Page 52 of Brutal King

I pull out his New York driver’s license. Well, I was partly right. He’s thirty-five. Or he will be soon. But to my surprise, he was actually born on Christmas day.

“Now, that doesn’t make sense at all.” I shake my head as I punch his birthday digits into the phone.

Day, month, year. Year, month, day. Only the day and month. Month and year. None of the combinations work.

“Okay, so not your birthday.”

Several tries later, I’m ready to toss the phone into the fireplace and set the damn thing ablaze.

“What’s your password?” I demand and shove him. “Gideon!”

All I get from him is a groan.

I fall back onto my knees and start to cry. Not small tears, but big fat ones accompanied by loud sobs. I’ve never felt so helpless, so utterly tiny.

Then, I laugh because this is just so ridiculous, there’s nothing else to do. I’m not foolish enough to believe I’ll everactually find an impossible code. It was just something to hope for.

Leaving isn’t a possibility either. Doesn’t matter that Gideon is sick. He could be dying and I still doubt the guards would let me off the property.

I’m stuck in hell with the Devil.

Don’t give up, Sofe. Fight. Do something!

Suddenly, that desperate part of me that makes me unable to think straight takes over. There must be a clue on him!

I carelessly dig through his pockets, searching for anything. The only other thing I find is a single penny. Doesn’t he always use them in pairs? Either he dropped its mate, or he killed someone with one eye.

Dull and old, minted in1987, the penny looks nothing like the ones I saw in his room. It could be a simple coincidence that this was in his pocket, but something tells me Gideon isn’t a change-in-his-pockets sort of man.

On a hunch, I grab the cell phone and enter the year as the code. To my surprise, it unlocks. So shocked am I that it worked, that it takes me a moment to realize what I’ve done. What this means!

Before I can find the button to make a call, strong fingers wrap around my wrist. In one quick move, I’m dragged under him and onto my back. I lose my grip on the phone, too stunned to find myself trapped beneath Gideon’s massive body.

“What are you doing?!” I demand as he pins my hands by my head. “Let me go.”

Gideon blinks, as if he’s surprised I’m here. However, his surprise quickly turns to something else. He trails his glassy gaze over my face, and to the place where his hands are holding me tight.

His releases my hands, but doesn’t get off me. He pushes up so that he’s on his knees between my legs.

Again, he rakes me with that silver stare, slowly, as if his brain is lagging and he’s having trouble processing what he’s seeing. Then, he zeroes in on the hoodie and something heated and raw comes over his expression.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt,” he comments, his nostrils flaring slightly.

“You stole mine, so I took yours.”

He remains quiet for a moment, his focus solely on my chest. “What are you wearing under it?”

My mouth goes dry as I realize what he’s noticed and why he’s so intent on it. I’m not wearing anything under it. Why would I? I have small boobs and the lacy bras he got me itch. Besides, it didn’t occur to me that I’d end up in this position, with the cold of the manor to make my nipples stiff and visible through the material.

A groan escapes him when I don’t answer him, because that’s answer enough. He brings his fingertips to the hem of the sweatshirt and pushes it up, exposing my midriff. I gasp at the contrast between the cool air and the heat of his skin.

“I need to fuck you, Little Bird.” His eyes lift to mine, seductive and hungry. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to fuck you.”

Some form of a protest is on the tip of my tongue. Because Ishouldstop him, shouldn’t I? This is wrong. He’s a monster and I hate him for what he’s done to me. I should stop him.

Except, that when he pushes the material farther up my chest, I can’t speak. He exposes my nipples, and I stop breathing.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he bends down to take one into his mouth.

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