Page 19 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I continue to study him for a few more seconds. If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve already done it. I roll onto my side and give him my back, squeezing the pillow against my chest as tight as I can. Then I close my eyes and pray for sleep.

And for some reason, it comes easier with the knowledge that I’m not alone.

Though I refuse to acknowledge why.

* * *

The next morning, my room is missing a certain protector, and I start to question whether or not I imagined his presence last night. I did sleep better, though. Not perfect. But…still. Sei remained present to haunt my dreams, but I couldn’t feel his touch this time, so I guess that’s progress.

It’s late. Later than normal, anyway. D hasn’t knocked on my door yet. Or maybe I slept through it? With my arms folded across my chest, I peek through my open doorway and scan the hall. It’s empty. No plate of bacon and eggs. No glass of juice. Nothing. Curious, I rock back on my heels before finding the courage to explore my new prison more fully. My anxiety heightens as my bare feet pad against the dark wood floor. Creeping down the stairs, I wait for someone to yell at me or grab me and shove me back to my room. But no one does.

What if…what if something happened to D? What if that’s why he didn’t bring me breakfast? What if he’s hurt? What if Sei found me and killed him? The questions run rampant on my frazzled nerves, begging me to hide away in my room, but I restrain myself.

I need to find Diece.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the sounds around me, but the place is practically silent. My ears perk when I recognize an almost familiar song filtering from down the hall. It’s so quiet, I’m surprised I can hear it, but I tiptoe toward it in hopes of finding D. The door is cracked open a few inches, and I peek through it.

With a quiet gasp, I take in a very ripped backside as my protector from the night before pummels a punching bag. Black basketball shorts hang low on his hips, but his top half is bare and glistens from the sweat clinging to his olive skin. His muscles ripple and flex with every swing of his arm, leaving my mouth watering at the sight. “Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked” by Cage the Elephant blares through the speakers. With the force of a Mack truck, he delivers a final right hook that makes the punching bag jerk back. As if he can feel my stare, he glances over his shoulder. His gaze pierces me with its intensity.

“Morning,” he grunts.

It’s like my veins were injected with slurry concrete. I can’t move a muscle. I can’t escape. Part of me feels like I’ve been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar. But…what now?

Holding my attention hostage, his tongue darts out between his lips, then he stalks closer to me. My entire body buzzes with anticipation, though I’m not sure why. His moves are deliberate. Precise. Proving he has more control over every single ounce of muscle clinging to his bones than a freaking panther, even though he looks like a damn grizzly. When he’s less than a foot away from me, my nose tickles with awareness as his scent filters through the air. He smells amazing, and I have to fight the urge to lean closer and take a deep breath. It doesn’t stop my mouth from watering, though. His giant hand reaches forward, and I’m convinced he’s going to tug me into him until I notice the small towel rack placed right next to the entrance.

Grabbing one of the towels, he wipes the sweat from his brow, then slowly grasps the edge of the door and pushes it open the rest of the way.

“I said, good morning,” he repeats.

I swallow thickly. “Morning.”

“You’re out of your room.”

“Someone forgot to bring me breakfast.”

With a flash of his boyish grin I’m slowly becoming accustomed to, he grabs the back of his neck and squeezes. “Sorry, Blue. During our conversation yesterday, I realized something.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’ve been enabling you.”

I flinch back. “What’s that supposed to mean? And why did you call me Blue?”

“The hair.” I can almost feel his eyes caress my messy, short locks before he adds, “The emotions.”

“Emotions?”

“You know…you’ve been feeling blue.”

“So, my real name isn’t acceptable now? You needed to come up with a nickname?”

He rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant, but if we’re on the topic, I might as well ask you something. No one has filled out a missing person’s report for anyone by the name of Queena. Do you know why that would be, Blue?”

I shrug one shoulder but stay silent.

“Don’t escape on me now,” he pushes before gently tapping his index finger against my temple. “You get lost up here too often, Q. Stay with me for a little longer, yeah?”

I remain quiet but hold his gaze when I desperately want to close my eyes and ignore the way my heart races anytime he’s near.

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