Page 8 of Pride
Too long. He was taking too long. She reached for him again.
“Stop.” His voice came out guttural through bared teeth that looked longer… like the fangs of a wolf. She should be afraid. He looked… animalistic. Feral. Wild. “Alice, you will stop when I tell you to.”
She blinked and shook her head to dispel the confusion. But that smell. It was everywhere.I want. I need.She went for his lips again, but this time, his hand moved from her hair to her neck and applied pressure.
She knew that spot. She knew what he was doing, but still… she didn’t care. He was touching her.Sigh.The lights dimmed. Her vision closed in. The last thing she remembered was the scent of him clinging to her, arousing dreams and fantasies she wasn’t ready for. And a low, guttural growl.
5
With a groan,Alice woke. Her head throbbed. Christ, she felt like a truck had hit her. Her limbs wanted to sink into the soft surface she laid on.Soft?Like a satin cloud. Wincing, she opened her eyes and tried to hold her head, but her wrists were bound.
I’m in a bedroom.A large, opulent one.Navy satin beneath her. Plush cream pillows around her. Arms behind her head—she was tied to a bed by a purple, intricately knotted silk rope. A fucking bed! Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to remain calm, to slow her breathing, and to keep searching.
Exits?One door. Closed.
Windows?Multiple. All around her. Floor to ceiling. Probably treated to resist breakage. One went out to a balcony—another exit.
Ceiling?Vents. Cooling ducts. Exposed beams. Strange rigging points pierced through the timber.
Feet?She wriggled them. Unlike her hands, they were unbound and stretched out before her. The shoes were gone. Not accidentally. Someone had removed them because he didn’t want dirt on the luxury duvet, and that someone was at the end of the bed, sitting in a chair against the wall, staring at her.
Parker Lazarus didn’t just sit. He lounged on a leather throne. One hand on the arm of a chair, tapping, the other… Alice’s eyes went to the prosthetic’s strap peeking out from beneath his open-collared shirt. The jacket and tie were gone. The sleeves were rolled up to expose forearms. One living, one dead. Behind him on the wall featured three enormous pictures depicting abstract, intricate patterns of rope twisted into stunning floral-like weaves. She looked a little closer and realized the rope was tied erotically over human skin—women.
Unlike at the office, his groomed hair was no longer impeccable. It looked as though he’d run his fingers through it. This was Parker Lazarus disheveled, and this was his private abode.
She narrowed her eyes and raised a brow. “I would have thought kidnapping beneath you.”
He’d probably walked right out of his building with her thrown over his shoulder, and no one had said a darned thing. He owned them. Why would they?
Parker stared at her for so long and hard, she wondered if he’d heard her.
“You’re a Sinner,” he eventually said, his voice that smooth timbre again.
She sighed and rested her head back against the pillow to stare at the ceiling. There were hooks and pulleys up there.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”
Alice snorted, but kept her gaze locked skyward. “So bossy.”
A low growl snapped her attention back to him. He’d been doing that a lot lately. In fact, he’d done it at the office, right before he’d cut her airway. And before—she frowned—when that scent had muddled her mind.
“What did you do to me?” she asked. “What was that smell?”
Something like fear flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone, his mask of cool nonchalance back in place. So he didn’t mean for it to happen? All the Deadly Seven had developed powers during the past two years, and she was almost certain the event was linked to them finding a partner. He was the only one she’d known of who hadn’t got his yet, which went with her partner theory. Parker Lazarus never dated seriously.
While Alice had been working at Lazarus Tech as his personal assistant, she’d been running surveillance on the family. They weren’t as secretive as they thought. And the Sisterhood had a lot of data on them, from Mary’s time at the lab to now. The Deadly Seven had never been far from the Sisterhood’s watchful eyes.
“I’m asking the questions,” he snapped.
Another snort escaped her. “Questions? I haven’t heard one yet.”
His nostrils flared. His jaw flexed. His fingers tapped on the armchair. She squirmed and tested her bondage. Every time she moved, it tightened around her wrist.
“Keep doing that and you’ll cut off your circulation.”
She shot him a look.Duh. Then she continued to test it. She’d seen these types of bonds before. He was right. They were made to tighten when put under stress. It would be easier to cut them off. Damn it. Usually she carried a knife in her boot, but she was still in her workout attire. Stupid of her to drop her guard at the office.
“All these years,” he mused. “I never noticed your lack of pride.”
