Page 43 of Savage Obsession

For a breathless second, he sways. I scramble forward, my only thought to run. But his hand snatches my wrist in a vise-like grip. Before I can yank free, he slams me sideways.

My skull collides with the mirror. A spiderweb of cracks splinters through the glass as stars burst behind my eyelids.

Dizziness crashes into me, but I fight it. I fight him.

With everything I have left, I drive my nails into the skin exposed at his throat. A strangled growl rips from his chest, but he doesn’t let go. He shifts, pinning my body against the sink with his.

The glint of something metallic catches the light.

A syringe.

Terror floods my veins as I struggle harder, twisting, kicking, desperate to break free. My foot connects with the side of his knee, and he falters, but only for a second.

Then his hand clamps down on my shoulder.

The sting is sudden, sharp—like fire piercing my skin.

I gasp, a strangled sound of disbelief.

The needle digs into my flesh, but before the liquid can fully enter my bloodstream, a sound echoes from the hallway—footsteps.

Someone is coming.

The masked man jerks his head toward the door, hesitation freezing him for a split second. Then, he makes a decision.

He yanks the syringe out halfway, ripping it from my skin in his haste.

I barely register the pain before he bolts.

His boots slam against the tile as he spins towards one of the corner cubicles in a frantic retreat. In his rush, the syringe slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor, rolling to a stop near my feet.

I want to move. To grab it. To do anything.

But my limbs feel like they belong to someone else. They are heavy and sluggish. My breath is now coming in strangled gasps—the partial dose still courses through me, dulling my senses like thick fog settling over my mind.

My knees buckle, and the cold floor rises to meet me. Or maybe I crumble down to it. As the edges of my vision darken, I hear the footsteps again. They are closer now.

Then, everything fades.

21

Aithan

Minutes pass.

Then more.

I glance at my watch, irritation prickling at my skin. She’s been gone too long, and my mind is telling me that something’s wrong.

A cold, foreign sensation slithers down my spine as I push through the crowded room, making my way toward the hallway where the bathrooms are. The moment I turn the corner, I increase my pace, my heart slamming against my ribs.

As soon as I open the door, I see Yelena on the floor.

The midnight blue gown fans out around her. Her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, and half covering her face. Her skin is deathly pale, and her breathing shallow. Seeing her like this makes my blood turn to ice.

I’m at her side in seconds, my hands framing her face. “Yelena.” My voice is sharp, commanding. “Open your eyes.”

She doesn’t move.

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