Page 26 of Forbidden Empire
“Fuck you!" I screamed, dropping my weight all of a sudden.
As Ares adjusted his grip, I snapped my head forward, sinking my teeth into the meaty part of his forearm until I tasted copper.
His howl echoed down the hallway as my elbow cracked against his ribs. I stomped my stiletto straight down on his leather shoe.
Bone crunched. His grip slackened just enough that I twisted, tearing free.
Freedom. Twenty feet away. Ten. The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open, and there Aidon stood, blocking the light like a solar eclipse.
I slammed into his chest at full speed, the impact stealing my breath. His cologne hit me next, cedar and whiskey and something darker.
His fingers flexed at his sides. One heartbeat. Two. His lips curled upward, revealing teeth too white against his olive skin.
"You've always been a fighter, haven't you, Esme?" The words slid from his mouth like silk over steel. "It's one of the things I admire the most about you."
Despite the rage boiling in his eyes, he seemed to be in complete control of his emotions.
In contrast, my heart was racing a mile a minute, a thin sheen of sweat had beaded on my forehead, and my breasts were heaving.
Frustration mounted inside me.
How could he maintain such infuriating calm? Just being near him tossed me into a whirlpool of anxiety, my thoughts spinning.
I shot a glare up at him, struggling to regain my breath.
"You can't stand not being in control, can you?" I spat, a molten river of frustration matching his seething tension.
My gaze flickered downward, catching sight of the gun nestled beneath his suit jacket.
His men approached like a storm, their anger palpable, eager to demonstrate their loyalty to Aidon. Escaping their clutches would be a Herculean feat.
I edged back toward the penthouse doors, and he mirrored my movement with a predatory step forward. I retreated again, lifting my chin.
With a calculated stumble, I feigned clumsiness, aiming to catch him off guard. As he reached to steady me by the elbow, Ilunged for his jacket, fingers brushing the cold, rigid steel of his gun.
"Fuck! Esme!" A primal growl tore from his throat as he seized my wrist, twisting it with merciless precision until the weapon clattered to the floor.
He shoved me against the wall with unyielding force, pinning my arm above my head in a vice grip.
He brought his face inches from mine, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched beneath his stubble.
I dropped my gaze to the floor, to his shoes, to anything but those eyes that burned like acetylene torches.
His fingers dug into my jawbone, wrenching my face upward. The pad of his thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling it flutter like a trapped bird.
His pupils dilated until a thin ring of color remained. Something feral lived in that gaze, something that wanted to devour me whole. My knees weakened.
My mouth dried. The wall behind me was the one thing keeping me upright.
Sweat beaded at my hairline as his breath scorched my cheek. The scent of him, whiskey, cedar, and rage, filled my lungs until I couldn't remember how to exhale.
His chest rose and fell against mine, our heartbeats hammering in violent synchrony.
I clawed at the wallpaper behind me, desperate for purchase, for escape, for anything to ground me as the room tilted sideways.
"Do you think I'm going to let you get away from me again, Esme?"
