Page 2 of Sold to My Ex's Brother
Maybe I should have taken Dylan up on her offer to walk me home.
I go to slip the key into the door, but before I can, I feel something—it takes me a moment to register what it is, but then, a sharp pain shocks though my shoulder, and I realize someone is grabbing me and yanking me back around to face them.
“Let me go!” I cry out, loud enough that I’m hoping someone, anyone will think to step in and help me.
But the man before me clamps a hand over my mouth before I can let out another cry, and I stare at him, eyes wide, heart thumping in my chest. I squirm to try and break out of his grip, but it’s firm and unyielding, offering me no chance to escape.
“Keep your voice down, sweetheart,” he tells me, his voice laced with the edge of an accent, the same one as Artem’s. Russian, that’s what he told me. The man’s tone is raspy and dark, but there is a grin on his face, as though this is going exactly as he knew it would.
“Plenty of time for you to get loud for me when I have you alone,” he continues, leering his way down my body.
My stomach drops.Is this what Artem has done, to punish me for rejecting him?I squirm again, trying to wrench myself free of his grip, but he just tightens himself on my arm, his fingertips digging in so deeply I’m sure they will leave bruises.
“Fuck,” he grunts, as he leans in, pressing his face into my neck and taking a deep inhale. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for permission to get my hands on you...”
I mumble in protest against his palm, but his grip on me is too tight, utterly unyielding. He’s not going to let me go.
Artem probably sent him here to take revenge on me, to show me that I’m not the one who gets to call the shots about what happens to my body.
I close my eyes, trying to force myself out of that body, to put as much distance between myself and this nightmare as I possibly can, but I can already feel his hands on my hip, pushing meagainst the door, the dead of night closing in around us as a reminder that nobody is going to help me...
And then, I hear something. Another grunt, this time, almost pained. The man’s grip releases on my arm, and I open my eyes, to see my would-be attacker sprawled across the sidewalk below me.
My eyes widen.What the hell is going on...?
The answer to my question soon arrives as another man steps forward, his eyes nearly black as he gazes down at my stalker with hate in his gaze.
“Get the fuck off of her,” he growls, lifting his foot and slamming it into the back of the man’s neck, sending him sprawling to the concrete below.
I retreat back against the door, eyes wide as I watch the scene unfold in front of me. The man who came to my defense, he clearly knows what he’s doing.
When my would-be-attacker draws a knife, he slaps it out of his hand, the blade cutting into the top of his fingers and sending blood spraying to the floor, but he hardly notices it. He kicks the man in the face, sending him backwards again, a mixture of blood and spittle spattering the concrete below him as he tries to steady himself.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he orders him, and the sound of his voice makes me shiver. There’s something so commanding in it, something that almost makes me want to obey.
I stare at the back of his head in the beat of silence that follows, waiting for my stalker to make a break for it. And, to my surprise, he does. He scrambles to his feet, his face bloody.He shoots one last look at me and takes off, sprinting down the empty street as though he wants to be anywhere else in the world than here.
And just like that, the man who assaulted me is gone.
My head is swimming as I try to make sense of it. One second, I thought that Artem was going to take his revenge, use me as some sort of bribe to this monstrous man he sent after me, and the next, this stranger was stepping in to defend me for no reason.
He stands there for a moment, making sure that the stalker has vanished into the night, and then turns to me. Up close, I can get a better look at him now—silver hair glinting in the sallow streetlights above, blue eyes flashing as he skims them up and down my body.
“Are you hurt?” he asks me, and I shake my head.
I open my mouth to answer, but I’m still not sure I’ve figured out the power of speech.
“This your place?” He nods to the building beside me.
“Mhm.”
“Come on,” he tells me, jerking his head upstairs. “I’ll walk you to the door. Make sure there’s nobody else around looking to cause you trouble.”
“Who are?—”
“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”
His voice once again takes on that tone that allows me no room for argument. Better to just do as he says. After all, this man just saved me from God only knows what.
