Stolen and Seduced - Christine Pope Page 0,408

can’t place.

“I’m not that backwoods.” I wink. “Try me.”

He scans me, his gaze oddly blank, before looking back to the sky. “This isn’t about getting to know our past, love. It’s more about playing with our future.”

I lean forward then, and Ro shifts to meet me halfway, our bodies touching like a bolt of electricity. Ro’s hands shift, sliding down my body, caressing my curves as he pulls me closer. I lift my lips to his and he hesitates for only an instant before pressing his mouth to mine. The tip of his tongue teases my bottom lip until I’m panting and breathless.

“Where have you been all my life?” He breathes the words against my neck and I shiver against his touch. I tilt my head back, welcoming his touch as his hands move up my back and over my shoulders. One finger brushes the base of my neck.

“Ro?”

“Shh, love.” His hands lock into place. There’s a faint sting of pain, a slight puncture as cold as ice and twice as sharp. Heart racing, I try to turn my head to look back at him.

Only to find my muscles are frozen.

I can do nothing but stare straight ahead, my heartbeat panicked and out of control. Ro. I scream his name silently, my entire body trembling as he withdraws a syringe from my neck. My scenes beg for me to run, but it’s already too late. I can’t even move.

“Sorry it had to happen like this, Human,” Ro whispers.

That’s when the world disappears into darkness.

Chapter 2

I open my eyes in a mist of stars. Lights blink at the edge of my vision, a persistent blur blocking my attempts to see past the foot of my bed. The entire room is metal, gadgets and sensors blinking from every corner. To my left, on a nearly-invisible desk, my own face stares back at me from a monitor.

What in hell?

I pull myself up to a sitting position, hands straining against what feels like an invisible curtain around me.

I push harder.

Heart beating faster.

But the current that seals me in doesn’t budge.

On the other side of the room, eyes blink from the dimness, watching me, and I have nowhere to hide. I’m closed in like a butterfly in a glass, on display for ---what? some inhuman creature? A beast with evil intent?

You know this is a dream, Ella. I had too much to drink, probably went a little crazy after that whole dating app thing.

There’s no way this is anything but a dream.

I push out against the current again, and this time it pushes back. It slams me back against the bed, electricity sizzling through me, and all my attempts to scream die away in my throat. The pain that pounds through me is all too, too real.

Tears slip down my cheeks, blurring my already compromised vision.

Get out.

You need to get out.

Who the hell do I think I am? Honestly? I’m only Ella Harlow, bartender, sometimes klutzy dork, and the last time I went to the gym, it was to stalk the girl my boyfriend cheated on me with. It’s not like I possess some kind of super power that would make me an interesting subject of study. Never mind allow me to break out of this mess.

I can’t even break free of my own messes.

I swallow hard, tasting the salt of my own tears.

“if you would calm down for a minute, I could get you out,” a male voice says through a speaker. “There’s no reason to freak like you’re headed for a slaughterhouse.” His voice is ridiculously deep, a rumble that sets my core vibrating.

Ro.

It takes only a second to recognize that voice, seductive and intimidating all at once. I pull the sheets up over my body, suddenly aware of just how exposed I am. My breasts hang out of my torn dress like I’m a hooker on my last leg and god knows my legs have probably been open the entire time I slept. I press my knees shut, face burning, just as a figure moves into sight on the other side of the current.

At first glance, he’s like nothing I’ve seen outside of dreams—- a distraction of muscles and horns and an overpowering display of masculinity. He’s Ro — I can still see the familiar eyes, the all-knowing smile — but other than that he’s changed.

Out of his human skin and into the skin of whatever identity he’s assuming. Dark hair spills over his shoulders, divided between horns, and the face beneath