Read Online Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy by Ryanne Hawk - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ryanne Hawk
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raced with options. Should I kick him and run? I thought about the shoes I’d chosen and decided I needed to take them off first; otherwise, I wouldn’t get very far.
He towed me to the wall of elevators, and I figured there must be security cameras. I made a big show of grimacing and trying to tug myself from his grasp, but he maneuvered one arm across my shoulder and tucked me under his other arm, shielding potential cameras and crushing my wrist with his grip.
“I suggest you stop moving. I’d hate to break this.” He said as he squeezed. "And, if you're looking for security camera's or someone to rescue you, there aren't any. This is my private garage and entrance. I control everything." He punctuated his statement by grabbing a fistful of my hair and snapping my head back hard, my skull colliding with my spine.
I was no stranger to pain, but I liked to avoid injuries if possible. I wasn’t a masochist. “You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you could have your pick of women.”
He nodded. “I often do. But tonight, I want you. And I want you to scream.”
Every bad horror movie ran through my head as I squirmed and tried to break lose from his crushing grip. I was about to stomp my pointy heel into his foot when the elevator door dinged, and he fisted a handful of my hair, effectively controlling my movements.
Shit. I am so screwed.
With one hand crushing my wrist and the other yanking my hair, I was completely helpless. The doors closed and the elevator rose, my stomach dropping further with every floor we passed.
We exited the elevator, and I glanced up and down the hallway looking for a way out or cameras, then I remembered he said there weren't any and my spirit waned for a second.
When he stopped in front of his apartment, a barrage of residual emotional energy assaulted my psychic senses, and I cringed. The staggering scents made Dixon seem like a habitual pain giver and probably a rapist too.
Not me. Hell no, not me.
My mind worked overtime and came up with a hasty plan. When he let go of my wrist to open his door, I’d slam his face into the wall and run for the elevators. My muscles tensed in preparation, and he stopped to stare at me, twisting my wrist to the side hard.
“What are you planning, Cordelia?” he said with a sinister singsong of my name.
I didn’t think. I threw my head back and slammed his hand and my head against the wall at the same time I stomped my heel onto his foot.
Too bad my foot met carpet as he moved out of the way. He let go of my hair with a curse then backhanded me across the face again, sending me sprawling onto the hall floor. Unused to being manhandled, I lay stunned for a few moments. My cheeks pulsed and I tasted blood.
“Fucking bitch.” He reached down and snagged my hair again and pulled me up as I opened my mouth to cry out but stopped myself. I bit back tears of frustration and growing rage. I should yell, scream and try to get help. For some reason the words wouldn't come. There was no one here to help me.
I struggled against his hold, flailing my arms and legs.
Dixon positioned himself behind me with one hand across my mouth and the other wrapped around my waist, crushing me to him.
“Don’t move or I’ll slam your face into the door and break your nose.” He moved a step closer to his door and lined his eye up with some type of box. A red light zoomed across his eye as if he was a bar code.
Shit . I didn’t plan on an orbital scan. Geezus . How much money did this fucker have? And why the hell did he need an orbital scanner to unlock his doors. What secrets did he have?
I was about to find out as the door nicked open, and he threw me onto the floor with a jarring thud. My head slammed back, and my jaw snapped forward into my clavicle. Pain lanced the back of my skull as I made contact with the marble tile, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth from biting my tongue. The clang of my lipstick, cellphone and compact sliding
He towed me to the wall of elevators, and I figured there must be security cameras. I made a big show of grimacing and trying to tug myself from his grasp, but he maneuvered one arm across my shoulder and tucked me under his other arm, shielding potential cameras and crushing my wrist with his grip.
“I suggest you stop moving. I’d hate to break this.” He said as he squeezed. "And, if you're looking for security camera's or someone to rescue you, there aren't any. This is my private garage and entrance. I control everything." He punctuated his statement by grabbing a fistful of my hair and snapping my head back hard, my skull colliding with my spine.
I was no stranger to pain, but I liked to avoid injuries if possible. I wasn’t a masochist. “You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you could have your pick of women.”
He nodded. “I often do. But tonight, I want you. And I want you to scream.”
Every bad horror movie ran through my head as I squirmed and tried to break lose from his crushing grip. I was about to stomp my pointy heel into his foot when the elevator door dinged, and he fisted a handful of my hair, effectively controlling my movements.
Shit. I am so screwed.
With one hand crushing my wrist and the other yanking my hair, I was completely helpless. The doors closed and the elevator rose, my stomach dropping further with every floor we passed.
We exited the elevator, and I glanced up and down the hallway looking for a way out or cameras, then I remembered he said there weren't any and my spirit waned for a second.
When he stopped in front of his apartment, a barrage of residual emotional energy assaulted my psychic senses, and I cringed. The staggering scents made Dixon seem like a habitual pain giver and probably a rapist too.
Not me. Hell no, not me.
My mind worked overtime and came up with a hasty plan. When he let go of my wrist to open his door, I’d slam his face into the wall and run for the elevators. My muscles tensed in preparation, and he stopped to stare at me, twisting my wrist to the side hard.
“What are you planning, Cordelia?” he said with a sinister singsong of my name.
I didn’t think. I threw my head back and slammed his hand and my head against the wall at the same time I stomped my heel onto his foot.
Too bad my foot met carpet as he moved out of the way. He let go of my hair with a curse then backhanded me across the face again, sending me sprawling onto the hall floor. Unused to being manhandled, I lay stunned for a few moments. My cheeks pulsed and I tasted blood.
“Fucking bitch.” He reached down and snagged my hair again and pulled me up as I opened my mouth to cry out but stopped myself. I bit back tears of frustration and growing rage. I should yell, scream and try to get help. For some reason the words wouldn't come. There was no one here to help me.
I struggled against his hold, flailing my arms and legs.
Dixon positioned himself behind me with one hand across my mouth and the other wrapped around my waist, crushing me to him.
“Don’t move or I’ll slam your face into the door and break your nose.” He moved a step closer to his door and lined his eye up with some type of box. A red light zoomed across his eye as if he was a bar code.
Shit . I didn’t plan on an orbital scan. Geezus . How much money did this fucker have? And why the hell did he need an orbital scanner to unlock his doors. What secrets did he have?
I was about to find out as the door nicked open, and he threw me onto the floor with a jarring thud. My head slammed back, and my jaw snapped forward into my clavicle. Pain lanced the back of my skull as I made contact with the marble tile, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth from biting my tongue. The clang of my lipstick, cellphone and compact sliding
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