Corrupt(23)

That’s what I admired about the Four Horsemen. They were always in control and always visible. Why wait for Michael when I could do it myself?

Cool wind blew across my bare legs, and I inhaled the smell of earth, water, and old wood drifting up through the door from the catacombs. I was close.

But then someone grabbed one of my outstretched hands, and I sucked in a quick breath, planting both of my palms on his chest and clutching the soft cotton of his sweatshirt.

“Michael?” I moved my hands up, noticing that his shoulders were nearly level with the top of my head. “Have you been here the whole time?”

But he remained silent.

I breathed in and out, trying to calm my heartbeat. The full length of his legs and torso was flush with nearly every inch of mine, and my skin warmed.

I stepped back.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. “If you’ve been here the whole time, why would you let Damon handle me like that?”

“Why didn’t you just take off the blindfold and run away?”

I straightened my back, steeling my spine. Was that what he had wanted? For me to tap out and run away? Why was he testing me?

It didn’t matter. How could he just stand there—see what was going on—and not step in? Kai had put a stop to it, and I thought Michael…

I dropped my head, afraid he could see my face heating. I guess I thought more of Michael than I should.

I tipped my chin back up, trying to keep emotion out of my voice. “You shouldn’t have been okay with it.”

“Why?” he retorted. “Who are you to me?”

I clenched my fist at my side.

“Toughen up,” he bit out in a whisper as his breath fell across my cheeks. “You’re not a victim, and I’m not your savior. You handled it. End of story.”

What the hell was the matter with him? What did he want from me? I would’ve thought he’d show concern. Jesus.

All of the men in my life—my father, Noah, Mr. Crist, and even Trevor—hovered over my life like I was a baby learning how to walk. I never cared so much for their concern, and even found it stifling at times, but from Michael…I might’ve liked it. Even just once.

He placed a finger under my chin, tipping my head up as his voice softened. “You did well. Did it feel good? To fight back?”

I caught the hint of amusement in his tone, and my stomach fluttered.

Michael had been right. I wasn’t a victim, and even though the thought of him showing up to save the day would’ve given me some kind of hint as to what he felt about me—if anything—the fact remained that I never wanted to be someone who couldn’t fight their own battles.

Hell, yes, it felt good.

I felt him move away, but his fingers slid between mine.

“So you want to go downstairs?” he asked in a low voice.

My lips quirked despite my agitation.

I let him lead the way as we continued in the direction Kai set. Howls echoed up from deep below, and my chest shook with anticipation.

Any bit of light from the other side of the blindfold disappeared and everything turned black as the air around me became cooler, thicker, and filled with the scent of earth and water, like a cave.

“There are stairs,” he warned.

I immediately slowed my step. “Can I take off the blindfold then?”

“No.”

I pushed down the anger boiling up and stuck out my other hand, finding the rough and bumpy rocks of the stone wall to my right. Michael slowed down, letting me cautiously feel my way down the stairs as we traveled in a spiral.

The grains of dirt grinded under my flats, and chills spread up my thighs, reminding me that it was getting colder and darker…

And that I was too unaware of my surroundings.

I didn’t know who was down here, what they were doing, and depending on how deep we travelled into the maze, I might not be able to find my way out, either.

Michael had made it very clear that, while he may have my hand right now, he didn’t have my back. So why didn’t any of that make me want to stop?

I slid cautious steps down the stairs, travelling deeper and deeper and feeling like the walls were getting closer to me. I inhaled a hard breath, the thin air under the earth weighing on my skin like a heavy blanket.

Michael took another step, and I followed, coming up to his side where he’d stopped.

Like a Storm’s Love the Way You Hate Me played all around me, and I gathered that all the tunnels were wired with speakers, the music probably filling every room.

But then a cry rang out, and I jerked my head to the right, hearing the high-pitched moan traveling toward me.

Hushed whispers seemed to spill out of the walls, groans and breaths floated around me, and I twisted my head to my other side, hearing bellows and cheers ring out from my left.

I slid my foot forward along the ground, feeling dirt instead of stone now, and listening for any sound I could grasp.

A woman’s moans carried down the tunnel, vibrating off the walls, and I licked my lips, my chest rising and falling faster.

Other kinds of fun.

Michael’s hand slid into mine again, making my skin tingle. “So how far you want to go?” he asked, his voice thick and husky.

The girl cried out again, sounding high and euphoric, and laughter and groans followed.

I rubbed my palm up and down my thigh, trying to distract from the heat building between my legs. God, what was happening to her?