Page 4 of The Chains that Bind
"My parents!" I gasp, suddenly thinking of the humiliation they must be feeling. "Richard! You can't do this to them!"
"Already did," he replies, not breaking stride. The sunlight hits us as we exit the cathedral's shadow, momentarily blinding me. I catch a glimpse of my mother actually fainting into the arms of my aunt, of my father red-faced and bellowing, of Richard standing frozen in disbelief.
"I'll sue you," I threaten, my legs kicking fruitlessly against his iron grip. "I'll press charges for kidnapping. I'll—" My words end in an undignified yelp as his hand delivers a stinging slap to the curve of my ass.
"You'll do no such thing," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Because you want this as badly as I do."
"I do not!" I protest, even as my body betrays me, softening against him despite my mind's outrage. "I was getting married!"
"No," he repeats, "you were making a mistake. I'm fixing it."
The absurd arrogance of this man—to decide what's best for me, to interrupt my wedding, to carry me off like some caveman—should have me spitting with fury. And I am furious. But something else trembles alongside the anger, something that recognizes the terrible truth in his words. I was making a mistake. I've known it for months, maybe from the moment Richard proposed. I just didn't have the courage to admit it.
But that doesn't excuse this...this kidnapping.
"The reporters," I gasp as we near the helicopter, suddenly realizing that the crowd has swelled to include more than just wedding guests. Of course. A mysterious helicopter landing at a society wedding would draw media attention like sharks to blood. And Knox's face is recognizable enough to ensure maximum coverage.
"Let them look," he says, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. "Let everyone see who you belong to."
"I don't belong to anyone!" I cry, finally managing to land a solid blow between his shoulder blades. It earns me another slap on my backside, this one harder, the sting of it radiating through the layers of my dress.
"Keep telling yourself that, angel."
We reach the helicopter, its rotors already spinning up again. The pilot keeps his eyes diplomatically forward as Knox shifts me in his arms, momentarily cradling me against his chest before depositing me none-too-gently on a leather seat. Before I can scramble away, he's beside me, one arm like an iron bar across my lap.
"Seatbelt," he says, as if we're about to embark on a pleasant Sunday drive.
I stare at him, speechless with rage and something else I refuse to name. His dark eyes burn into mine, his jaw set in that stubborn expression I know too well.
"Now, Seraphina."
My hand moves automatically to the buckle, muscle memory responding to that commanding tone before my brain can intercede. I hate myself for it, hate him for knowing exactly how to trigger my compliance.
Outside, chaos has erupted. Richard has finally found his courage, running toward the helicopter with two security guards flanking him. Too little, too late. The rotors spin faster, the wind keeping them at bay. Cameras flash continuously, capturing this moment for tabloids and gossip sites worldwide.
"You've ruined my life," I say, blinking back tears that are equal parts fury and relief. "Again."
Knox leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I've saved you," he corrects, one hand sliding up to cup my cheek, forcing me to look at him. "And I'm never letting you go again."
The helicopter lifts, the ground falling away beneath us, taking with it the life I'd carefully constructed after leavingKnox. The wedding, the safe fiancé, the predictable future—all receding as we rise into the clear blue sky, leaving behind nothing but shocked faces and camera flashes.
And despite everything—the humiliation, the outrage, the sheer audacity of what he's done—I can't ignore the treacherous flutter in my chest, the part of me that whispers: Finally.
Chapter Four
Knox
Her hair isa tangle of golden strands escaping from that ridiculous updo, her lips a swollen line from where she's been biting them in anger. Beautiful. Even in her rage—especially in her rage—Seraphina is the most exquisite thing I've ever seen. The helicopter banks sharply over Manhattan, leaving her interrupted wedding and ruined reputation far below us. I don't give a damn about the fallout. All that matters is that she's here, filling the space beside me that's been empty for too long. Her scent—vanilla and something uniquely her—fills my lungs after eighteen months of starvation. I've reclaimed what's mine, and I'm never letting her go again.
"You're insane!" she hisses, trying to edge away from me. The helicopter cabin isn't large enough to give her anywhere to retreat. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
"Saved you from the worst mistake of your life," I answer simply, enjoying the way her cheeks flush with outrage. She's always been magnificent in anger, her green eyes flashing like summer lightning. "You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you?" Her voice climbs an octave. "You crashed my wedding! In a helicopter! There were photographers everywhere! My career?—"
"Will be fine." I dismiss her concerns with a wave. "You think the art world won't eat up this drama? Your gallery will have lines around the block next week."
She stares at me, mouth open in disbelief. The movement of the helicopter throws her slightly against me, and I feel her stiffen at the contact. eighteen months and her body still responds to mine. Some truths can't be denied, no matter how hard she's tried.
