Page 22 of Griffin Undone
Ya think?
I caught the briefest flash of a grin curling his shadowed lips; then the moment passed, and he returned to what seemed to be his normal grim—pun intended—self.
I heard a masculine chuckle from across the room. A tall, broad man stepped to the end of my bed, long red hair framing his face. “I doubt she’s in the mood to be realistic or reasonable, Aomai. Look at the sparks in those eyes.”
He was laughing, actually laughing. Was he enjoying himself…or this situation? Did he enjoy how vulnerable I was, how weak, unable to defend myself? Anger surged, quick and hot. I felt it churning beneath Grim’s control, and I fanned it, fed it, let it overflow the edges of his mental grip. It replaced my weakness, my helplessness with strength and, as it flared higher, blessed control. I let everything else drop away and focused instead on the rising need to punch Red’s cocky mouth.
“Shut. Up,” I spat out as succinctly as possible around the gag.
Red flew backward, hitting the opposite wall of the small room, clutching his jaw.
“Stop!” Grim commanded, his tone stern, unyielding. His hand whipped up and closed into a tight fist; at the same instant his mental mojo gripped my mind and body hard, not just smothering but paralyzing me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Terror hit hard and fast, squeezing my lungs, the sound of every breath a roaring freight train in my ears.
Grim could hear it too. He opened his hand and settled it gently on my forehead again. “Kat,” he soothed, “you will listen to me. If you don’t, you could hurt someone.”
I shook my head, denying the ridiculous accusation.
“Just listen.” His words coaxed, crooned to me in a way I wanted to fight, but it proved impossible. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t move. Couldn’t protect myself.
Tears gathered in my eyes.
Grim thumbed a hot drop as it escaped my eye and trailed into my hair. “We are not here to hurt you, little one. We know you’re scared, we know you don’t understand, but if you want the gag off and explanations forthcoming, you have to calm down and listen.”
For long moments the only sound in the room was my choppy breathing around my gag. I hated this, hated it,hated it—the not knowing, the powerlessness. It was a battle to conquer the raging inside me, but I would do it, would do anything to get free and find a way to defend myself. Finally I gave Grim a curt nod. When the hold on my body relaxed, I scrambled up the headboard until my body could sag against it.
The feel of fabric pulled my gaze down to the unfamiliar T-shirt draping my braless breasts. With shaking hands I yanked the blanket up to my shoulders, one too-small barrier—but a barrier nonetheless—between me and the world. And then I went still, right down to my breath, waiting, watching, frantically wondering how safe I could truly be between the two massive men surrounding me.
Grim noticed; of course he did. How I knew, I wasn’t sure, but when his hand came forward slowly, carefully, to turn my chin to one side, I felt the surety of it in his touch. I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing my cowardice, as he untangled the knot buried in the hair at the back of my head.
“Okay, here we go,” Grim said. “Arik, can we get some water?”
Heavy footsteps left the room. Grim pulled the gag from my dry mouth. The relief was immediate, as was the searing pain when I tried to close my jaw. A loudpopdrew a guilty murmur from Red.
Good.They should feel guilty. Scaring me, tying me up—oh, and the mental straitjacket. I wouldn’t forget that anytime soon.
Between the lumpy mattress and unyielding headboard, a comfortable position eluded me. When my bare bottom brushed the sheet, I tensed with the sudden fear of what else they might have done.
Grim read that too. I was beginning to hate that almost as much as the uncertainty.
“Kat, no one has touched you.”
Fisting the T-shirt, I rasped, “Then what is this, huh? And what’s with the Grim Reaper getup?”
The redhead muffled a snort of laughter behind his hand. When I looked at him, I noticed his firm jawline was now a puffy red lump on one side. “And what happened to you?”
The door opened, and I prayed that meant water was coming. My mouth was sticking to itself in a way that seriously hampered my ability to ask questions and express my extreme displeasure. When a tall, clear, iced glass of liquid paradise appeared in my line of vision, I raised my hand and head simultaneously, an automatic thank-you on my lips, and found the words choked off in my throat.
He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Completely masculine, but completely beautiful. Short, white-blond hair was cut close to his scalp, emphasizing the almost metallic silver-blue of his eyes in a stark, angular face. Even his ears were perfect, standing out slightly from a refined skull. His shoulders sloped powerfully under a stretchy gray T-shirt, thick but not muscle-bound, every curve and hollow clearly delineated and making my desert-dry mouth water. One broad hand, long fingers curled around a glass, offered up the much desired drink.
Clutching the blanket closer to my chest, I reached once more to take it. When our fingers touched, a shiver raked my spine, and I turned wide eyes up to meet his. Those eyes. Something about the way he watched me seemed so intense, so…familiar.
For just a moment, it felt as if I knew him. But that couldn’t be, could it? I’d remember him, wouldn’t I?
The glass and I retreated for a headboard huddle as the questions swirled in my aching head.
Grim hummed. I glanced his way, but he too was playing possum, so I shrugged and drank. The cool liquid seeped into my pores, pulled a sigh from my lips.
Shaking off my disquiet—and that was a seriously underrated description, wasn’t it?—at this situation proved more difficult. “Where am I?”
