afraid of what she might see.
Like one of those crash test dummies she’d seen on television, her arms and legs flew out ahead of her while her torso slammed into an invisible barrier. Mags flailed, struggling to collect her legs beneath her, but the floor came hard and fast. A shriek of fabric ripping combined with the thud of her ass and right elbow smacking the ground.
Her blouse sucked around her middle and the fabric cried out again as he hoisted her off the carpet. One hairy arm looped around her waist and pinned her back to his torso.
“No,” she screamed. Magdalena’s legs kicked wildly, seeking contact anywhere. The floor. His shin. The wall.
He shook her like a rag doll. “Stop fighting. You’ll only make things worse.”
“No,” she belted again. But this time a sob broke the word, making it sound feeble. Weak. Defenseless. Just like she felt.
Hot breath caressed her ear and neck, making her wish she’d skipped the pinned bun and left it down. She fancied a brisk scrub of the skin he touched with a pumice. To rub him from existence. To run away. To be free.
“That a girl,” he praised as her struggle waned.
She went limp in his hold. Defeated.
Law’s smirk flashed in her mind. She remembered the instantaneous reaction his sudden appearance had coaxed. There had been no build up of fear, only response. Action. Which was exactly what she needed now.
Davis, if that’s what his name really was, lowered her feet to the ground. Mags remained loose except for the iron-tight fist she held by her side. Her elbow throbbed front the impact, but she dismissed it.
His arm uncoiled from her middle, sliding too slowly over her stomach. When his fingers splayed wide and climbed the peak of her left breast, her stomach heaved.
“Oh, come on. I can make you like it.”
Acid boarded the elevator of her esophagus and pressed the button for the penthouse. Mags swallowed against the onslaught, willing herself to fight. To be strong. But his hand traveled to the juncture of her thighs and she was helpless to stop her body’s reaction. Bile burned a path of scorching fire up her airway.
Magdalena did the only thing that came to mind. She turned into the man and vomited.
He screamed like a bitch as her stomach’s contents splashed onto his black shirt and cascaded down his pants. “Ah, bloody fuck.”
His hands got busy holding the fabric away from his body. He hunched and arched his head toward the sky in an effort to get away from the smell. Mags spat the last of the garbage from her mouth, blinking through the moisture in her eyes. Her balled fist connected with his exposed neck and she powered into the punch as Baine had taught her, shifting all her weight into the target.
It worked.
The beast went down face first like gravity had suddenly tripled. One hand gripped the carpet and the other went to his throat. A soft wheeze escaped his lips.
Magdalena snatched her bag off the floor where it had fallen, but abandoned her shoes as she turned and ran. She slammed both hands against the red emergency bar, shoving through the exit. The siren’s trill echoed with magnificent symphony in the metal column of stairs, piercing her inner ear. The volume didn’t match the frantic pump of blood roaring in her head.
Her legs became rubbery, not so much running down the stairs as gliding over them in a slip-slop fashion. Her grip slid down the rail. Friction burned the tender skin of her palm, but she refused to slow her pace and couldn’t let go. If she released the painted metal under her fingers, at this speed, she’d simply tumble to the bottom. At every landing she took two wide strides then slid more.
On the last flight Magdalena slowed slightly and chanced a look up. Davis didn’t give chase. Her lungs ached from heaving breaths and the sting of bile lit her throat on fire. The temptation to walk weighted her limbs, but she didn’t stop running. In fact, she steamed through the doorway and into the
Like one of those crash test dummies she’d seen on television, her arms and legs flew out ahead of her while her torso slammed into an invisible barrier. Mags flailed, struggling to collect her legs beneath her, but the floor came hard and fast. A shriek of fabric ripping combined with the thud of her ass and right elbow smacking the ground.
Her blouse sucked around her middle and the fabric cried out again as he hoisted her off the carpet. One hairy arm looped around her waist and pinned her back to his torso.
“No,” she screamed. Magdalena’s legs kicked wildly, seeking contact anywhere. The floor. His shin. The wall.
He shook her like a rag doll. “Stop fighting. You’ll only make things worse.”
“No,” she belted again. But this time a sob broke the word, making it sound feeble. Weak. Defenseless. Just like she felt.
Hot breath caressed her ear and neck, making her wish she’d skipped the pinned bun and left it down. She fancied a brisk scrub of the skin he touched with a pumice. To rub him from existence. To run away. To be free.
“That a girl,” he praised as her struggle waned.
She went limp in his hold. Defeated.
Law’s smirk flashed in her mind. She remembered the instantaneous reaction his sudden appearance had coaxed. There had been no build up of fear, only response. Action. Which was exactly what she needed now.
Davis, if that’s what his name really was, lowered her feet to the ground. Mags remained loose except for the iron-tight fist she held by her side. Her elbow throbbed front the impact, but she dismissed it.
His arm uncoiled from her middle, sliding too slowly over her stomach. When his fingers splayed wide and climbed the peak of her left breast, her stomach heaved.
“Oh, come on. I can make you like it.”
Acid boarded the elevator of her esophagus and pressed the button for the penthouse. Mags swallowed against the onslaught, willing herself to fight. To be strong. But his hand traveled to the juncture of her thighs and she was helpless to stop her body’s reaction. Bile burned a path of scorching fire up her airway.
Magdalena did the only thing that came to mind. She turned into the man and vomited.
He screamed like a bitch as her stomach’s contents splashed onto his black shirt and cascaded down his pants. “Ah, bloody fuck.”
His hands got busy holding the fabric away from his body. He hunched and arched his head toward the sky in an effort to get away from the smell. Mags spat the last of the garbage from her mouth, blinking through the moisture in her eyes. Her balled fist connected with his exposed neck and she powered into the punch as Baine had taught her, shifting all her weight into the target.
It worked.
The beast went down face first like gravity had suddenly tripled. One hand gripped the carpet and the other went to his throat. A soft wheeze escaped his lips.
Magdalena snatched her bag off the floor where it had fallen, but abandoned her shoes as she turned and ran. She slammed both hands against the red emergency bar, shoving through the exit. The siren’s trill echoed with magnificent symphony in the metal column of stairs, piercing her inner ear. The volume didn’t match the frantic pump of blood roaring in her head.
Her legs became rubbery, not so much running down the stairs as gliding over them in a slip-slop fashion. Her grip slid down the rail. Friction burned the tender skin of her palm, but she refused to slow her pace and couldn’t let go. If she released the painted metal under her fingers, at this speed, she’d simply tumble to the bottom. At every landing she took two wide strides then slid more.
On the last flight Magdalena slowed slightly and chanced a look up. Davis didn’t give chase. Her lungs ached from heaving breaths and the sting of bile lit her throat on fire. The temptation to walk weighted her limbs, but she didn’t stop running. In fact, she steamed through the doorway and into the
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