Chapter 4 4

The bodyguards hauled Deshaun up by his armpits. His right leg hung at a grotesque angle, the foot dragging limply against the polished marble.

Deshaun gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. He violently shoved the guards away, refusing to let them carry him. He grabbed his wooden cane from the floor. His hands were shaking from the blinding pain, but he gripped the handle until his knuckles were bone-white.

He put his weight on the cane and his previously injured leg. Every movement sent a wave of nausea through his stomach. He dragged himself toward the elevator.

As he passed Boyd, Deshaun stopped. He turned his head. The look in the boy's eyes was no longer fear. It was a pure, concentrated hatred that burned like acid.

Boyd saw the look. He smirked, adjusting his left cufflink. The hatred of an insect meant nothing to him.

The elevator doors closed, taking the bleeding boy away.

Boyd turned and walked toward the private staircase. He climbed the steps to the top floor and unlocked the heavy oak door of the cage.

Elinor was lying on the floor beneath the blank television screen. She looked like a discarded ragdoll. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the carpet, completely devoid of life.

Boyd walked over to her. The sight of her absolute defeat sent a strange, uncomfortable prickle down his spine. He reached down to pick her up.

The moment his fingers brushed her shoulder, Elinor violently flinched. It was as if he had pressed a hot iron against her bare skin.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice was a broken, raspy whisper, but it vibrated with pure venom.

Boyd's face hardened. His jaw ticked. "It seems the lesson wasn't clear enough."

He ignored her weak attempts to push him away. He bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her toward the massive bed in the center of the room.

Elinor thrashed wildly in his grip. She balled her hands into fists and struck his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Her hits lacked power, bouncing off his solid muscles like rain against a window.

Her futile resistance didn't anger Boyd. It ignited a dark, twisted heat in his blood. His grip tightened around her waist.

He threw her down onto the soft mattress.

Before she could bounce back, Boyd leaned over her.

Elinor's survival instinct snapped. The image of Deshaun's broken leg flashed behind her eyes. A primal rage exploded in her chest. She didn't shrink back. She lunged forward like a cornered wildcat.

She opened her mouth and sank her teeth deep into the muscle of Boyd's shoulder, right through his expensive suit jacket and shirt.

She bit down with everything she had, her jaw locking tight.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through Boyd's shoulder. He let out a low grunt. He could feel the fabric tear and the sudden, warm wetness of his own blood seeping into his shirt.

He didn't pull away. He didn't strike her.

Instead, a strange, dark thrill rushed through his veins. His pupils dilated. He looked down at the girl attached to his shoulder.

"Finally grew claws?" he whispered, his voice thick with a sick kind of excitement.

He wrapped his massive arms around her back, pulling her body flush against his, trapping her completely. He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Elinor refused to let go. She tasted the metallic tang of his blood on her tongue. She wanted to tear the flesh from his bones.

Boyd turned his head. He found the soft, pulsing skin just below her ear. He opened his mouth and bit down.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a brutal, territorial bite. His teeth scraped hard against her tender flesh, breaking the skin just enough to leave a permanent, bruising mark. He tasted her blood, mixing with the scent of her fear.

The sudden, sharp pain shocked Elinor. She gasped, her jaw releasing his shoulder. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with horror and confusion.

Before she could scream, Boyd's mouth crashed down onto hers.

He swallowed her scream completely. The kiss was punishing, tasting of copper and violence. He forced her lips apart, invading her mouth, claiming every inch of her breath.

Elinor pushed against his chest, but his weight was crushing. Her oxygen depleted. Her muscles burned with exhaustion. The fight slowly drained out of her, replaced by a suffocating helplessness.

Her hands fell limp onto the mattress. She stopped moving.

A single, hot tear slipped from the corner of her eye. It rolled down her cheek and soaked into the pillow. Then another.

She wasn't sobbing. It was a silent, broken weeping. The sound of a trapped animal that knew it was going to die.

Boyd felt the wetness against his cheek. He felt the absolute stillness of her body beneath him.

He froze.

The dark excitement in his blood suddenly vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating pressure in his chest. The silent tears felt like acid burning through his skin. He pulled his mouth away from hers.

He looked down. Her eyes were closed, tears continuously spilling over her lashes.

Boyd's breath grew ragged. He didn't understand the sudden panic gripping his throat. He abruptly rolled off her. He grabbed the thick duvet and pulled it up, wrapping it tightly around her trembling body, cocooning her.

He pulled her wrapped body against his chest, locking his arms around her so she couldn't move.

"Sleep," he ordered. His voice was harsh, but his grip was strangely careful.

Elinor was too exhausted to fight. Surrounded by his scent and the lingering terror, her brain finally shut down. She slipped into a heavy, dreamless unconsciousness.

Boyd lay there in the dark. He listened to her breathing slow down. He slowly reached up and touched his own shoulder. His fingers came away sticky with blood. He stared at the red stain on his fingertips, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.