Page 21 of Filthy Beginnings

Egan’s narrowed gaze returned to her, every pent-up frustration from this lunar rotation burning in his stare.

Menace thickened the air.

The three security guards at his back growled low, excited by their leader’s aggression.

A flash of magenta shimmered across her skin. Followed by a thicker line of black, its essence dark and violent. Just like earlier when the guards had hurt the handsome Alpha, and when Nars had hurt her.

But there was no time to wonder what was happening with her gift.

“On the bed this instant.” Egan’s voice shook the room. “Unless you want all four limbs tied spread eagle with guards inside the room watching your little light show up close and personal all night.”

The guards’ snickers dulled her colors, including the ribbon of black, before it disappeared altogether.

Left with no better option, Scarlett followed orders, slipping into bed and raising her arms above her head.

“You better not give me any more trouble, prize.” Egan snapped the bed restraint to one wrist cuff and then the other. “I’ve got enough to worry about with this new investor. I will not have you or that space trash Damien Skolov bringing me down. He has his own plans for that cocky bastard, and I have no intention of pissing him off.” His fetid breath washed across her cheek. “You best remember. Nothing breaks as easily as a colorful, flimsy toy.”

His words sent an ominous chill through her.

But before she could reason out more of what his words might mean and who this new investor might be, Egan strode away, the security guards close at his heels.

The lights went out.

Darkness flooded the room.

Slam. The door shut and locked.

She was alone. Finally. The restraints kept her tied to the bed, but had enough length to allow her some movement—so she slid her arms down as much as she could and, for the first time all rotation, let loose.

Furious reds and vibrant pinks flashed across the walls. Followed by vengeful yellows and rebellious oranges. None of the colors meshed prettily, and all swirled with bold, jarring ribbons of black that pulsed with aggression.

And those black strips grew thicker with every heartbeat, consuming the other colors with a monstrous hunger that felt almost insatiable, the heat inside her near-blistering.

Scrape.A noise issued from somewhere close by. Could it be a guard reopening the door? If so, this was no sanctioned visit.

Stiffening, she sucked the sensations into herself, smothering her colors and leaving only the inky blackness of the room behind. “Who’s there?”

She cocked her head, listening.

Scrape. The faint noise came again.

She shifted, trying to pinpoint the sound, her wrists straining against the ties.

A huge form appeared at the side of her mattress.

Instinct kicked in. Fear, too.

A bright yellow cloud of color erupted from her skin in a sudden flare of blinding light.

“What the—”

As darkness returned, she remembered her brother’s instructions, her leg sweeping out to hook around her ambusher’s vulnerable knee.

He pitched forward.

She balled her hand into a fist and struck out as far as her restraint allowed—only to notice the fire searing her skin, the now familiar throbbing at her wrists and throat.

It was him.

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