Page 5 of Bee

A big man, built like a fucking bear has come to join the party. Except he's not focused on me he's focused on the man who was just trying to rape me. Bear has his hands up in a fighting position and I watch him swing with expert precision.Even in my drunken state I can hear the snap of his fist against the other guys face.

My attacker stumbles back a few steps, his pants tight around his thighs and blood pouring from his nose. I should get up and help but I can't move.

The bear of a man lunges forward again and I see the threat before it even happens but my instincts are slow. I can't get the word out to stop him.

The other guy has pulled a knife and is already slashing it through the air.

Bear shouts out in pain but doesn't fall back. Instead he watches my attacker with fierce eyes. Both of them at a standstill. That is until my attacker realizes he's not about to win this fight no matter what he's got in his hands.

Internally I want to jump for joy but the sweet relief of unconsciousness comes first.

3

Bee

My head is pounding when I wake up.

This is a normal, everyday occurrence for me. What's different is the ache I have in my jaw. What the hell happened last night?

I roll over in my bed reaching for my pillow only to fall face first onto a thick shag carpet.

"What the fuck?" I croak and try to push myself up. The world spins, but I'm able to right myself.

I don't have a shag carpet. Blinking a few times, I take in my surroundings, and it doesn't take long for me to realize that I'm not home in my bed.

If I'm not home, where the hell am I. Reaching to my side, I search for my cell phone that isn't there. I had a bag last night didn't I? Fuck what the hell.

Climbing back up on the couch, I drop my head in my hands and groan. I've had wild drink fueled nights before but I don't remember the last time it was this bad. I fight to remember what exactly happen, and the memories come back like a tsunami.

I was leaving the bar with someone. I don't know his name and even if I really concentrate on it, I can't even remember what he looks like. Then he got pushy and I tried to get away.

A deep gasp rockets through my system when I realize why my jaw hurts, that fucking bastard tried to rape me.

Did he succeed, am I in his house? Fuck no. No way in hell. I'm going to get another set of balls for Vexx's collection.

Steadying myself on my feet, I, as silently as I can, tip toe in the direction of the back room. It's not lost on me that I don't have a weapon, so on my way to the hallway I stop in the kitchen and grab a knife off the counter. It's a simple steak knife, but it'll do. No one forces me to do anything I don't want to do. It's just not how I roll. This bastard is going to wish he never laid a goddamn hand on me.

My head is pounding. Throbbing so hard I can hear it in my ears, feel it behind my eyes. My mouth is dry, my stomach twisted up in knots, and my skin is slick with sweat even though the apartment is freezing.

I don’t know where I am.

My eyes scan the room trying to see if there are any other weapons around or anyone else for that matter. Always watch my back. I wish I was sane enough last night to follow that rule. Dark cabinets, black marble countertops, stainless steel appliances surround the small kitchen. Sleek. Expensive. Masculine. A heavy scent of coffee lingers in the air, but the pot is empty. No personal touches, no warmth. Just a place to exist, to function.

The hallway is the same—clean, sharp, too neat. Dark wood floors, sparse photographs in cold metal frames. The kind of place a man keeps because it looks good, not because it feels like home.

A pit opens in my stomach.

This is his place.

I swallow, my throat tight, my hands clenching at my sides as flashes of last night pulse through my head like a strobe light—hands grabbing me, breath on my neck, my own voice screaming, then fading.

I don’t remember how I got away.

I don’t remember getting here.

But if I’m in his apartment, then I know exactly what needs to happen next.

I make it to the back room. The door is cracked open, the air inside thick and still. I push it open slowly, my fingers gripping the knife so hard my knuckles ache.

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