I have nobody to bounce these crazy ideas off of—am I a sinner?—a saint?—am I the devil incarnate?
Hell, if I know.
But I’m pissed. I’m angry and I hate God.
Why did he put me in this position? Why is he testing me like this? Thou shall not kill. It’s one of the Commandments. Like top ten. Yes, there are only ten. I know this, but come on. I’m contemplating murder.
I’m rationalizing killing another human being. Where the hell is my guiding light?
Nowhere. That’s where. It’s just me, and I’m justifying my actions.
This is wrong. Right?
I’ve thought about what it will take to kill Bossman, and it doesn’t look good. He’s too big. I’m too small. He’s too strong. I’m too weak. And what would I use to tie him up? My hair?
What I do know is one of us isn’t making it out of this room.
I scoot to the foot of the bunk, staying on my knees. Bossman glances at me and the speed of his strokes ramps up. That lopsided grin on his face turns into a line of deep concentration as he chases his release. He’s stroking himself, fantasizing about me, and all I want to do is puke.
I’m virtually certain he won’t rape me, but it remains a possibility. I’ve played up to his Master/slave fantasies enough to make any sane man break. I mean, this is almost exactly what I’ve asked for, but Bossman’s not a normal man.
He’s not sane.
No one in his line of work can be, but he has standards. Bossman has standards he won’t break. Whatever moral creed he hangs onto doesn’t allow messing with the merchandise.
With all of this going through my head, I reach into my hiding place and slide the grip of Shelly’s knife into my hand. My Guardian’s words run through my head.
Four was training me in hand-to-hand combat, not the offensive kind, but rather defensive maneuvers. My sole goal was to escape Four’s grasp. He never went easy on me.
Never.
God, I love that bastard’s commitment to training. Four’s words run through my head. His words ring crystal clear like he’s right here with me—if only that were the case.
Four is formidable. He wouldn’t let Bossman intimidate him. He’d go toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, and he’d come out victorious. Four would wipe the mat with Bossman. What I wouldn’t give to have him here with me now.
“Commit, Moira. Commit with every cell in your body. Commit. When you fight, you fight for your life. Don’t hold back. And if you have any doubts, stand down. Wait and find your opening, then commit.” His stony glare made me gulp at the time, but I remember his words.
And I remember him.
Ferociously beautiful, Four’s all sculpted beauty and deadly grace. He’s the living personification of what it means to be an Alpha male. Four isn’t pretty. He’s all hard angles with scars that speak to a challenging past. The epitome of male perfection—at least as I define it—he’s rugged, brutal, and raw. Fucking perfect, and so damn yummy.
“And what about fear? How do I work through my fear?” I feared Four. How was I, a slip of a girl, ever going to get away from him?
“Fear is a mind-killer. It has no place when fighting for your life. Use your fear or abandon it. But don’t you dare let it make you hesitate. Commit and follow through.”
He worked relentlessly to train me, locking me in death holds, forcing me to put everything I had into the fight, capturing me time and time again.
As time passed, those holds became excruciatingly intimate and sexually fueled. I wanted him. Desired him, but like Bossman, Four has his infuriating limits. There are lines he won’t cross, and boy did I tempt him.
Or tried to.
He retaliated in the worst possible way.
The first man who ever made me feel something close to real attraction, rejected my advances. It crushed me. He crushed me.
Four pissed me off. I hungered for him, yet he drew a line in the sand, placing a barrier I could never cross. For a girl who never failed to get her man, I didn’t understand what the hell was happening.
Men want me. They pay for the privilege of having me, first on the streets and then in more intimate surroundings. Men desire me. They pursue me. Never in my life has a man rejected me. Yet, that’s exactly what Four did. He threw up barriers I could never cross.
Crushing on the teacher much?
Most definitely.
Head over heels, I’ve