Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(46)

The sheets wrapped around my legs as I kicked and squirmed. His weight kept me trapped, so I did the only thing I could—I launched upright and head-butted him.

Stars.

Shooting stars. Comets. Fireworks.

Bright light replaced the darkness of my blindfold as our skulls clacked together.

The man groaned, cursing low. He rolled off me, dropping off the bed.

The instant I was free, I ripped the blindfold off. Not that it helped in the dark. Instead of running, I attacked.

Throwing myself onto the floor, I latched onto his back, punching everywhere I could. The pain in my knuckles was vengeance.

He reached behind, grabbing my naked flesh to toss me off him. The carpet cushioned my fall. I kicked hard as I could in his direction. My bare foot connected with something far more perfect than a knee or thigh. It hit his prized possession.

“Fuck!” he roared.

My body stuttered just for a moment. That voice. Then white-noise stole me again, keeping me focused on my task. I shook my head. I refused to listen. I wouldn’t listen. Not to lies or promises or even the voice of the man who I loved more than anything. It wasn’t his voice. It couldn’t be, and I refused to be side-tracked from murder.

“Fucking bastard. What did you do? Where is he?” The anger and sheer-minded confidence was like a long lost lover, cocooning me with belief—belief I could win. How had I been so weak? How did I forget this velvety power of self-reliance?

I laughed suddenly. I was grateful. Even though I would kill him. He’d returned to me what I thought was lost forever.

Not one tear leaked from my eyes. Not one plea or beg. I was free.

Then a body collided with mine, slamming me against the floor. His hard form stole the breath from my lungs. My strength and fire flickered, sucking me back into tameless horror.

I went berserk.

Legs, arms, fingers—my entire body became a weapon.

“Fuck me,” he grunted, his voice hidden by the rage roaring in my ears.

Expect it. Any moment.

I tensed for pain. I knew it was coming. He hadn’t hit me yet, but he would. I’d drawn blood—I tasted it in the air. I’d made him angry—I felt it in his fingers as he tried to stop my flailing fists. He would strike and soon.

Kill him!

“Let me f*cking go!” In a twist and a huge surge of power, I knocked his hands away and slapped him. My throat burned I breathed so hard.

“Fucking hell, stop!”

Stop? And make his kidnapping easy? As if.

I kicked, grinning with delusion when something crunched beneath my foot. Suddenly, he let me go, his body climbing off mine. I yelped as a hand wrapped around my ankle, dragging me toward the table at the bottom of the bed.

“No!” Carpet burn scalded my back. I tried to jerk out of his grip, but his fingers bit harder.

Something skidded off the table, slamming to the floor.

“Goddammit.”

That voice again. My heart lost its violent rage, coughing with confusion.

Then his body was back on mine, slamming my head down, planting a palm over my mouth. This was it. He’d inject me with something and steal me away. My chance to either die or kill would be taken from me.

He spun me onto my stomach, pressing my face against the carpet. With a sharp knee wedged in my lower back, he wrenched my arms behind my back, wrapping something unyielding but soft around my wrists.

Our harsh breathing filled the room. I wriggled, kicked, did everything I could but my female form was no match for his brute muscle. Adrenaline had made me strong but not strong enough.

The moment my wrists were bound, he climbed off me, leaving me gulping back tears and rage.

Every last inch of energy swirled in my chest—ready to fight and fight and fight, but a switch clicked on, drenching us with light.

Light.

Beautiful, all-seeing light.

Black-clad legs stalked past my vision. I couldn’t understand.

The legs folded to kneel beside me, flipping me onto my back. My eyes locked onto my kidnapper. Onto my lover, protector, husband to be.

The adrenaline disappeared with a bang, drenching my muscles in disbelief.

Q panted above me, his face an unreadable mask. His hot palm slammed over my lips as he dragged his other hand through his hair. His eyes were wild. “Fucking hell. I’ve lost my f*cking mind.”

And just like that the freedom from pain and past was gone. I snapped back to the Tess who no longer knew how to fight. I shivered as everything hot and true abandoned me.

My gaze flared wide. Had he finally snapped and embraced the darkness I always knew lived within him? Was he sleepwalking? What the hell is happening?

Fear overshadowed everything; another shiver went through me. I wanted to speak but he never released my mouth. I wiggled, trying to convey my wishes in my gaze.

Let me go! Talk to me!

Q’s eyes blazed. “Don’t move, Tess. For God’s sake and all that’s f*cking holy. Do. Not. Move.”

Forcing my breathing to slow, I obeyed.

Even though every molecule inside pinged and ricocheted, I lay like a corpse as Q menaced above like some son of the underworld. Dressed all in black he looked like a deliverer of death himself.

He shut his eyes, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. Dragging it over his face, he sucked in a gulp, then another. Blackness shimmered around him. “I didn’t think you’d fight. I thought you’d be too broken to fight. Goddammit, if I knew you’d be so strong—that it would affect me like this—shit.”