Demon Disgrace (The Resurrection Chronicles #8) - M.J. Haag Page 0,59

open and was making a run for it before I finished the last word.

How much of a head start would I have? Thirty seconds? A minute? I needed a plan. I needed help. As I ran, I looked around, but the ever-present, wandering fey were mysteriously absent.

No help, then.

I sprinted for the wall.

An arm circled around my waist. The steel band close-lined me, flipped me, and spun me around. My stomach gave a queasy lurch and threatened to heave breakfast as it met a hard, familiar shoulder.

I went limp, arms swinging free, as Merdon turned around and started for the house.

“Smarter,” he said. “But not smart enough.”

Anger pushed aside defeat, and I considered his butt. It was extremely firm and tight. Could I bite it?

“Do you need help, Merdon?”

I jerked my head up and, bracing my hands on Merdon’s lower back, glared at Tor.

“Does he need help? Seriously? I’m the one who ran for her life and is being dragged back to her one-room prison.”

Merdon’s hand settled on my butt. Right over the spot he’d smacked today.

I stiffened and wanted to swear.

“Do you have anything else to say, Hannah?” he asked.

I kept my mouth firmly shut.

“I don’t need any help, yet. Thank you for watching her, Tor.”

Tor smiled, waved at Merdon, and jogged away.

“Watching me?” I hissed at Merdon, twisting around to try to see his face.

His hand twitched on my backside, a reminder of his control over me. I stopped moving around and used my head. If Tor had been watching me, and all the other fey were hiding, then I’d been right about Merdon having the support of the other fey to keep me within the walls of Tolerance. I truly was a prisoner.

Merdon was right. I needed to be smarter.

He patted my butt, smoothed his hand over it, then surprised the hell out of me.

“Would you like to walk?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He actually put me down. Nicely.

I pushed my hair out of my face and looked at him, trying to guess his motivation.

“Was I too heavy?” I asked.

“You weigh nothing.”

“Why are you letting me walk?”

He took a step toward me, and I retreated with my hands raised.

“I’m walking! I’m walking.” I hustled back to the house with Merdon trailing two steps behind me.

Emily was at the door, waiting for us.

“Everything okay?” she asked, looking at Merdon.

It stung.

“Everything is fine,” Merdon said.

“Sure, for both of you,” I muttered, kicking off my shoes and tossing my jacket to the floor. “Not the second-class occupant of this house.”

I glared at Emily, who was refusing to meet my gaze.

“He bit me. That’s what you’re allowing him to do when he drags me down there. What in the hell has happened to you?”

Merdon grabbed my arm and towed me to the basement without a word.

I hated his protectiveness over her dumb feelings. Five minutes alone with her, and I would have her coming around to my way of thinking. I always did. Instead, she was standing there, looking at her toes while he dragged me back down to the basement of doom.

Tugging at his hold did nothing to free my arm. I stumbled after him, down the steps and onto the mat.

He didn’t even give me a chance to get ready. He crouched low and came at me. I thrust my hand up, heel first, and hit the bottom of his jaw. It was like smacking stone. Still, he backed off briefly before coming at me from a different angle. I didn’t try the same move. This time, I ducked and tumbled around his legs, springing up behind him.

I knew very well he was moving at “normal” speed and could have grabbed me if he’d wanted to.

On and on it went until I was panting for air and my limbs were shaking.

“I need to stop.”

“Again.”

“Damn your ‘again.’ What is the point of trying to kill me after stopping me from doing it myself?”

He stalked across the mat. I backpedaled my way into a stack of boxes, cornered. He crouched, and I thought he was going to come at me once more. Instead, he got right up in my face.

My pulse spiked. He’d pulled too much shit for me not to be wary.

“I am not trying to kill you, Hannah,” he said with soft menace. “I am saving you.”

It wasn’t easy to find my voice and enough backbone to say what I needed to say.

“I’m tired. I’m hungry. And I hurt all over. This doesn’t feel like a save.”

He leaned down farther so we

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