I tiptoed past them, hardly daring to look at them, hardly daring to look away. Then I dashed for the elevator and pressed the button.
It dinged immediately.
Idiot!
I spun around. Rhone and the other man were staring at me. I hid my face, pressed the elevator button for 30 floors above them, then flung open the door to the stairs and raced down.
Yelling rang out behind me as the stair door closed, but I was fleeing down the eight flights, three steps at a time, gripping hard to the railing when I needed it, then racing out of the stairwell through the lobby.
They heard me. They saw me. I was dressed in pajamas and my hair was in a messy bun. There was no way Rhone would recognize me…But…there was no way I could keep this job, now.
I breathed in deeply, fighting away tears: I could never work for a murderer.
I turned the corner beside the check-in desk, looking back behind me toward the stairs as yelling grew closer. Still running, I slammed into another person and swung my head around to look at who had stopped my escape and was now holding tight to my arms. My head was boiling over with panic and my heart was beating furiously. I struggled to get loose from him.
“Let me go!”
I tried to jerk away from his grip, but he didn’t even move with my struggle. His strength was astounding. Was he a friend of Rhone’s? Or was he someone who would help me?
“Calm yourself, woman,” he growled.
I swooned at the sound of his voice, deep, guttural, resounding with power, as though he was accustomed to being obeyed.
Part of me wanted to rebel and I pushed off his firm chest and tried to slip away. Another part of me wanted to obey and I paused in my frantic beating against his body…
Who was he?
Three
Daphne
The man holding me was a chiseled statue of feral perfection. He had a scowl on his face that seemed permanent. Over his right eye, slashing down through the eyebrow and dashing into his cheek, was a scar. Otherwise, he was a darkly tanned figure of Godlike attraction. He was clean shaven, which seemed odd for his lumberjack muscles. His forearms were as large as my bicep and his shoulders seemed so broad, he would need to walk sideways through a door. They narrowed down to a waist that I felt compelled to wrap my arms around.
I shook away the thought and pulled back again. His hands gripped mine with a fervent frustration as I looked away from his face and fought to be free.
“What are you running—”
The door to the stairs clashed open and renewed my struggle as Rhone, the other man, and four other brutes walked toward us.
“You have to help me, please. Help me. They are killers.” I didn’t know what else to do, but I knew I needed an ally. If he wasn’t already against me.
The man holding me looked from me to Rhone as my boss approached us. The fright on my face must have been evident, because the scarred man’s lips curled up, just a tiny bit, in what he may have thought was a comforting smile.
“Beast King!” Rhone said, and his voice echoed through the lobby unnaturally. Was he somehow projecting his voice? A little wisp of red glowed around his lips. Was that a trick?
The Beast King didn’t look at me again, but threw me to the side, still holding onto one wrist, as if he were holding onto a daisy.
“Commander Rhone. I have come for Fyland.”
The man with daggers snorted a laugh as he waved them in front of his own face. Rhone pulled his sword from its sheath and rotated it the same way he had before, studying its gleam.
“Fyland is dead.”
The Beast King shifted from one side to the other and I noticed how tall he was. He stood a whole head taller than me, and I was considered a fairly tall woman at 5’10”. He was wearing strange clothing, like he had stepped out of some fantasy video game realm. His pants were made of a soft, well-worked leather with dazzling curls and swirls crafted into their lines. Even knowing my life was at risk, I couldn’t help but lean back a little to check out that backside of his…I took a sharp breath in. He never skipped leg day, that was for sure. He was wearing a long dark red cloak that couldn’t shield the breathtaking broad shoulders. Otherwise, it seemed like he was wearing a leather armor tunic, sleeveless, molded to his pecs and abs. He could have been a gladiator.
I was dragged a step forward as the Beast King gestured with his hand that was holding my wrist. “Fyland betrayed me. He deserved death. But he also deserved a trial. You have taken vigilantism too far, Rhone.”
“You know that’s not what this is, Kajo.”
Kajo…hmm…the name fit him. Something wild, something strong…
“You neglect to call me Your Highness one more time and I will have to slash your tongue from your ignorant head.”
Rhone smiled, but his eyes darkened, hardened. They were dilated so deep in the dim light of the lobby and seemed to fill every spot in his eye socket, leaving no room for white. Just a dull, black, skeletal glow.
At least the Beast King didn’t seem to be on Rhone’s side. Maybe he would help me escape…?
The Beast King looked down at me, his blue eyes fierce, not even the smallest spark of friendliness, but he looked like he was going to release me when Rhone took another step forward, hand out.
“I would really appreciate it, Your Highness, if you hand me back this woman. She is indebted to me.” He said the title as a sneer. There was no way the Beast King could take it as anything other than an insult.
Instead, as he looked at me, Kajo’s eyes softened a little. He pulled me
