Page 120 of His Ruthless Match
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, and her body moved as if on autopilot, completely unresponsive to my touch.
“Genevieve,” I said louder, shaking her slightly. “Snap out of it!” Still nothing. Panic clawed at me as I turned to Jareth. “She’s not… she’s not herself. What do we do?”
Jareth’s expression was grim as he placed a firm hand on Genevieve’s other arm. “We’re getting her out of here. Now.”
As we began to lead her toward the exit, a chill ran down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.
I glanced over my shoulder and locked eyes with a figure standing in the shadows near the bar. Their face was obscured, but their intent was clear. They were watching us.
My fingers clenched tighter around Genevieve’s arm as we pushed through the pulsing crowd of bodies. The bass thumped in my chest, rattling through my ribs. Genevieve stumbled, her weight sagging against me, her movements slack and robotic.The blank look in her eyes sent a fresh jolt of panic straight through me.
We’d only moved a few feet in the past two minutes. Genevieve was dead weight, and she refused to acknowledge my existence.
“We need to leave. Now,” Jareth yelled over the blaring music.
The urgency in his voice made me freeze. There was real fear in his eyes.
“I’m not leaving without Genevieve.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes locking onto mine. “Eva, you don’t understand. This isn’t about her anymore. You’re in danger. You need to trust me and get the fuck out of here.”
“I said I’m not leaving her,” I snapped, my grip on Genevieve’s limp arm tightening. She barely reacted, her glassy eyes fixed on some invisible point in the distance.
Jareth exhaled sharply, his frustration radiating off him in waves. Without another word, he shrugged off his jacket and threw it over Genevieve’s head, obscuring her face.
“Fine,” he growled. “But you stay right by my side. No exceptions.”
I nodded, my pulse racing as I followed him through the throng of sweating bodies.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Jareth’s eyes flickered toward the edges of the room, scanning the shadows. “Vampires. Three of them. And they’re here for you.”
The words sent a chill down my spine, my legs nearly faltering. “For me? Why?”
“I’ll explain later,” he growled, his tone brooking no argument. “Right now, focus on keeping up.”
I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to move. Genevieve’s weight was like a lead anchor dragging me down, but I refusedto let go. My heart pounded harder with every step, the air in the club feeling too thick, too oppressive.
Finally, we reached the back door. Jareth shoved it open, ushering us outside. The alley was dark and damp and smelled of rotting garbage. Relief flooded me, but then I heard footsteps.
Jareth froze.
Every line of his body went taut, sharp as drawn wire. Without a word, he stepped in front of me, his broad shoulders eclipsing my view. One hand gripped Genevieve’s arm tightly, the other drifted toward his back pocket and the blade he kept there. The blade he only reached for when he was done playing nice.
From the shadows, three figures emerged.
Men, at first glance. But their movements betrayed something far older and far less human. Too smooth. Too confident. As if they already knew how this would end.
Their faces were bloodless, almost waxy, but it was their eyes that made my stomach clench. Flat, gleaming things. Eyes that didn’t blink. Eyes that looked through you.
“Well, well, well,” the tallest one drawled. “Looks like we found her.”
I knew who theherwas he was speaking about. My breath caught in my throat as all three sets of eyes locked on me.
Not Jareth. Not Genevieve.
Me.
