CAPTOR (The Alpha Brotherhood) (Standalone Dark Billionaire New Adult Romance) (10 page)

“But it wasn’t.” The one person on the planet. That’s a pretty extreme statement, one that I won’t ask him to clarify.

Some of the rage fades away as he brushes my hair from my face. The tingling sensation from his skin touching mine travels into my belly and lingers. I think this is what people mean by butterflies in your stomach. It’s such a wonderful feeling, putting a smile on my face that I can’t push away.

Shane’s lips soften slightly, but the corners of his mouth don’t rise to match mine. The muscles on the square of his jaw are so tight, a tendon pulled taut beneath the skin. Without thinking, I reach out to him, softly gliding my fingertips over the tension. It relaxes beneath my touch and he draws in a ragged breath, his eyes fluttering.

There’s not much warning before he lurches forward and clamps his mouth onto mine. His hand clutches the back of my head as he pushes his tongue between my lips. I freeze up at first, then a different part of me takes over and I start kissing him back. He groans, the vibrations traveling from his lips into mine as my heart starts pounding.

His arms slide down my spine to my hips, gripping them firmly as he rolls on top of me. His weight crushes my body against the cold floor, pinning me. I can’t move. That wonderful sensation in my belly sinks into a helpless desperation. What the hell is wrong with me?

Every muscle in my body tenses up when Shane’s lips leave mine, working their way down my neck. I do everything in my power to force myself to relax, but a tear rolls down my cheek instead. His mouth stops, but his hands circle my waist even tighter.

“Z?” His eyes are so intense, each of his deep breaths pushing his chest into my mine and crushing me further.

“I…”

Shane bucks his hips forward, grinding into me. I’ve only felt a man’s hard erection against my body once before, when Ricky dragged me out of my home. That awful flashback pushes me over the edge and a familiar, all consuming panic takes over. I thrash beneath him, choking out a sob as I push against his chest as hard as I can.

He lets out a frustrated growl, but rolls on his side, freeing me. I’m on my feet in an instant, running up the glass staircase. I turn around at the top and see him still on the floor, resting his elbow on one bent knee as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Just go,” he orders without looking back at me.

“Shane, I...”

“Go back to your room!” His irritated eyes meet mine, his fist clenched. It reaches for a pair of pliers on the drop cloth beside the robotic arm. I watch him for a moment, the exasperated grunts he makes as he unscrews a metal plate on his creation torturing my ears. “Zoey, do not test me right now.”

Tears of embarrassment run down my cheeks as I ascend the marble staircase to my room. I throw myself on the bed and muffle a sob with a pillow. I’m never going to be a normal person, I’ll never get close to anyone. I push everyone away even when I try not to and I’ll probably die a miserable old woman that doesn’t even like cats. And I’ve always freaked out like this, always been totally terrified inside all the time. I don’t even know why.

The door to my room is open the next morning, but I don’t go anywhere. Shane comes home late and doesn’t invite me down for dinner, just walks briskly past my bedroom into his.

That night, I sneak past his workspace and down to the bottom story. The shattered drone is still lying on the tiled floor and the bullet is in the corner. I scan the walls for damage, but there’s nothing. Then I see a big chip taken out of one of the gigantic window panes. Oh crap. That will probably cost a fortune to replace. No wonder he doesn’t want to talk to me.

Zoey

It goes on like this for days. I even walk down to his workspace once and he totally ignores me, doesn’t even answer when I say his name and tell him I’m sorry about the other night. The next day, the new gate is locked across archway while he’s down there, keeping me away. I listen to him cursing as he tries to perfect one of his projects, probably that same robotic arm.

It’s driving me crazy. The only thing I can think of to get his attention is to flat out piss him off. By the fourth evening, he’s still not home and I’m desperate enough to make another escape attempt even though a big part of me wants to fail.

I don’t even bother making dinner, I go right for the bag of flour. Someone has to be coming in and out of this door stocking the place with food. Hopefully they have greasy fingers. Sprinkling a bit of flour in the palm of my hand, I blow out a puff of air on the key pad, leaving it covered with a thin layer of dust.

I think it worked. The 5 key was obviously smeared and the flour stuck to that one the most. But the 3, 6 and 8 key kind of did the same thing. The next step is finding the cameras in the kitchen. The one in my room was barely a pin prick, but the walls are white and the sun hit it just the right way. Grabbing a flashlight, I flick the kitchen lights off and start searching. It’s probably got a good view of the exit, that would make the most sense.

It takes a while, but I finally spot a miniscule shiny flash in the backsplash above the counter. Yep, that’s a lens embedded in the grout between two slate tiles. I look directly in it and flash a devious smile of my own before taping over it.

Then I start trying codes on the door. My jaw drops when it actually works on the third try. I peek my head around the corner to see a long service hallway with doors at either end. I don’t see any keypads next to them, I wonder if they just open.

Well, crap. Now that I can probably get out of here, I don’t really want to, and the raging gang warfare below has nothing to do with it. There’s an obvious camera in the hall, the kind that moves back and forth. I watch it for a while, planning my timing. Okay, here goes. I start walking toward one of the exits when I know that I’m in view, counting the seconds until it turns around. Then I run back into the kitchen as fast as I can while it can’t record me.

Now what? Shane confirmed that he works in the building before he started completely ignoring me. If he actually gives a shit about keeping me locked up, he’ll probably be here any second. I hide in one of the larger cabinets, the one with a few stacks of big steel catering trays so that I’ll be harder to find.

“Zoey!” Shane shouts as he stomps through the kitchen door. “Shit.” He slams the exit shut.

I listen while he calls down to security, demanding that someone named Maddox sends him the last ten minutes of footage from the camera in the hallway. Then I hear him leave the room and I’m left with nothing but anxiety until he returns.

“You’re positive she didn’t get to one of the elevators?” Shane barks. “Keep checking.”

These cabinets close perfectly, too perfectly, and I’m not a big fan of total darkness so I kept the door open just a bit. It’s enough to see his legs as he paces by and leans against the counter, tapping his fingers and taking a deep breath.

“If I were an ungrateful little brat that wanted more attention, where would I go?” he says.

He strides out of my field of view and all I can hear is the opening and slamming of cupboard doors on the other side of the kitchen. My stomach flutters with a giddy anticipation that makes me bite my lip. It’s only a matter of time until I lose this game of hide and seek.

A burst of light shoots above my head, gleaming off the steel concealing me. He has a clear view down this long row of cabinets, these stacks of catering trays are the only thing in here. Each of his footsteps sounds deliberately slow as he walks toward my hiding place.

He rips the door in front of me wide open and the game is over. For a fleeting instant, he looks relieved. I grin at him mischievously and he suppresses a smile of his own. Then his expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as he grabs both of my forearms and pulls me out of the cabinet to my feet.

“You think that was funny?” he says.

“A little bit, yeah,” I shoot back.

“I was in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“Then you should have stayed there.” I stare at him defiantly even though my knees are wobbling. Shane turns his head and curses under his breath as his grip tightens. “Why do you even want me here?” I ask, my voice bordering on a shout.

“I am not explaining myself to you.”

“Yes, you are. I remember how I know you. The real first time we met.”

His face changes entirely, the fury dropping away in a heartbeat as it morphs into shock. “You what?”

“Yeah. You were the guy in the silk suit trying not to get mud on your thousand dollar shoes at a construction site. The creep that grabbed me before that broken down scaffolding collapsed and you had to save your ass from a lawsuit.”

He drops his head, laughing. “That’s quite the hallucination, Z. It’s amazing what those drugs did to your memories that day.”

“Bullshit!” I spit back. “It took me a while, but I recognized you. And I think you’re the reason I ended up on that stage to begin with.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You saw something you wanted and you orchestrated this entire charade to get it.”

“Oh really?” he replies. “So I’m the reason you were up to your eyeballs in debt with your supplier? And he would have totally let you off if I hadn’t been struck by Cupid’s bow and ordered Ricky to haul you out of your house?”

Okay when he puts it that way, it doesn’t make any sense. But neither does my captivity for the last two weeks. “I don’t know,” I say. “I can’t figure you out, Shane.”

“You’re not alone in that, Z.”

“I missed two weeks of school because of you.” Most importantly, I missed the opportunity to drop out of Organic Chemistry before I destroyed my already less than stellar GPA. “I probably lost both of my jobs. And there was gallery opening with four of my pieces on display that I really wanted to go to, and—”

“A gallery opening? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why the hell would I… Oh my God, you are so fucking weird!” I shout, amusing him.

“I might have made an exception for that one.”

“But not for school?”

Shane inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You were failing your only class, Zoey. Like you failed it the semester before. It’s now just a withdrawal on your transcript, not the end of the world,” he informs me, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear.

My cheeks are burning red, but I’m not sure if I’m more embarrassed than furious. “I am not staying here forever. I need to get back to my life. My own paycheck to paycheck, mundane normal life that you supposedly care so much about. Chicago has always had its warzones and it always will. I’m not some foolish damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”

His lips curl into a sneer and he drags me to the nearest wall, pinning me with his forearm across my chest. “You really haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

“No one remembers me from that strip club, Shane,” I snap, doing my best to ignore the panic overtaking my body. “I’m not going to end up in the papers.”

Barely brushing his lips across mine, he pushes his erection against my belly. “You can’t honestly believe that’s why you’re still here,” he laughs.

He doesn’t kiss me, just stares me directly in the eyes as his free hand slowly slides down my flank until it’s at the hem of my t-shirt. My skin prickles where his fingers make contact and I shudder. His touch moves upwards over my ribs as I struggle to keep my breathing even.

“I know you like this,” he rasps, biting my earlobe. “I feel the way your body reacts to mine. My patience with your denial is wearing thin.”

He cups my breast, squeezing it roughly and I let out a gasp as he flashes me that wicked grin. His hand pushes under my bra and finds my nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers before pinching. My heart races, that intoxicating desire coursing through me until I feel my pulse between my legs and squirm.

“Stop it,” I demand as he fondles my other breast while kissing my neck.

“Are you saying that because you really mean it, or because it’s what you think you’re supposed to say?” he asks with an arrogant laugh.

I have no idea how to answer that. Not a clue. Every part of my body wants him to keep going, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it if I can help it.

“I think I know why you’re keeping me here, keeping me safe,” I murmur, involuntarily tipping my head to the side to expose more of my neck to his suckling mouth.

“Do you now?” he whispers heatedly against my skin.

“Yeah.” The word leaves my lips in a groan, I just can’t help it. “You feel guilty.”

“About what?”

“The fallout. So you picked one girl, just one pathetic girl to save, to clear your conscience. It has nothing to do with me at all, does it?”

A growl rumbles through Shane’s chest, vibrating into mine. He pulls his mouth away from my neck and I instantly miss the sensation. “It doesn’t matter why I did what I did, Z,” he snaps, pushing his arm harshly against my sternum, flattening me against the wall. “All that matters is that you owe me, possibly your very life. But definitely your body.”

That statement should be upsetting. Absolutely terrifying. But it’s not. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as he pushes his tongue into my mouth and grinds into me. I try to come to my senses, to make my arms push him away even though it would be useless, but I don’t really want to.

His hand moves lower, gliding over my stomach until it dips beneath the waistband of my jeans. My hips buck forward and I moan into his kiss as he drags his fingers beneath my navel, then even lower. “I want this.” Take it. Please. But I can’t say the words, so I exhale in exasperation. “Touch me,” he orders, pulling his hand out of my pants.

“What?”

“I know you’re curious,” he grunts, the clinking sound of an unbuckling belt making my heart sputter and my chest constrict. It’s followed by a zipper lowering and his eyes lock with mine. “If you won’t let yourself do what you want, I will force you.”

“No,” I protest as he grips my wrist and pulls it to my side.

“Touch me and I’ll let you go. Don’t and I will keep going. Either way,” he whispers, dotting kisses along my collarbone, “you’ll get what you really need.”

He lets my hand go, leaving me with a choice. It’s been so hard to resist groping him back anyway. Shane pulls his face away, his eyes flaring with anger that burns into me in the few moments of hesitation before I rest my hand on his stomach. I’ve been wanting to touch him there ever since I caught a peek of his abs that day while he was working.

His gaze softens as my hand moves under his shirt. The rippling flesh beneath my fingers is so solid. I travel lower over the peaks and valleys until the texture changes from skin to hair and it gets hotter. Then I wrap my fingers around him, tentatively at first, gliding up the shaft until I reach the tip.

His lips part and his eyes flutter as I tighten my grip and stroke him. He leans against me, resting his forehead on mine as he breathes heavily. His reaction fascinates me, urging me to continue. Without thinking, I press my lips to his.

He groans into my mouth, his hand moving back between my legs. “I can feel you blushing down here,” he breathes. “Like you are right here.” Shane kisses my cheek softly, as if he’s a proper gentlemen. Then he presses upwards through my panties against the throbbing, right in the perfect spot. I moan loudly, my body desperate to rid itself of the thin piece of cotton cloth separating us. His fingers drag back and forth, teasing the nub of swollen flesh beneath them as I squirm

“I’m going to stop now, Z, just like you asked me too.” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “And tonight,” he says, taking his hand away. “When you’re trying to sleep.” He grabs my wrist, reluctantly stopping me from pleasing him as our exasperated groans mingle. “I know you’ll be thinking about what it would have been like if I hadn’t. Especially when you find yourself forced to take care of all this frustration.” He fondles me, through my jeans this time. “All by yourself.”

His mouth twists into a devious grin as mine drops open.

“I need to get back to that meeting.” He can’t be serious. Yet the arm pinning my chest to the wall departs and he takes a step back. “I’ll be home late,” he says as he walks away. “Don’t wait up.”

I’m left panting and confused as I follow him into the living room. The elevator doors open and he turns to face me, his expression cold as stone and his arms folded across his chest.

What. The. Hell.

I do wait up. He neglected to lock off his workspace, so I creep down the clear glass stairs and search around until I find the awesome art tablet he let me use that night. I stay waiting right there on the couch, facing the main elevator. Just one couch where there should be a living room. It always makes me think of a waiting area in a department store.

I don’t really start to get bored until three in the morning. Even with the artistic distraction, I can’t stop thinking about what he’s doing the whole time, wondering if he’s entertaining some important business associate with drinks and beautiful women. For all I know, he has a legitimate girlfriend out there, or at least a date. Is he staying the night with someone else? Will I be the only one ‘taking care of the frustration’ alone?