Page 12 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
I survey the bedroom I’m in. The room might as well be frozen in time—walls papered by an indigo damask pattern that looks luxurious but dated. Clunky furniture made of decades-old wood fills the room. My palm presses down on the bedspread I’m on top of and a small cloud of dust rises.
I slide off the bed, my bare feet touching cold wooden floors.
Where are my shoes?! Where are my clothes?!
I forget about taking inventory of the room’s furnishings and begin frantically searching for my things.
My book bag, my cell phone, my suitcase are nowhere to be found. The outfit I’d been wearing is gone too. Instead, I’ve been changed into some kind of silky, lace-trimmed nightgown that stops at my thighs. The same shade of pale pink as my pair of pointe shoes.
A shudder runs through me at the eerie coincidence.
Forget my things. I need to find an exit!
I run toward the door with a sense of hopelessness that expects for it to be locked. To my surprise, I’m wrong.
The door creaks open and I find myself in an empty hallway that’s just as dated as the bedroom. It stretches out of view on both the left and right sides of me. More of the dark blue damask pattern papers the walls, along with the occasional oil painting decorating the space.
Dim ceiling lights only add to the moody air.
Where am I?
I choose to go right, rushing down the hall on bare feet. A staircase emerges that leads to the ground floor. In the deafening silence, every step taken feels thunderous. I do my best to be quiet and light-footed, using my dancer background to my advantage. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s be agile.
No one even seems to be home. Fine by me. It’ll be easier to escape.
Caelian probably didn’t expect me to wake up so soon.
I reach the door and wrench it open. It’s as far as I make it.
A strong hand clamps down on my shoulder and forces me around so fast, I lose my balance and tip over. Arms bulging with muscles catch me before I ever touch the ground. I’m set back on my feet as I blink and question what just happened.
Glancing up, I find myself in the last place I want to be—back under Caelian Ziccardi’s unnerving dark gaze. My breath stalls in my chest, the deep dread I felt during my escape attempt returning in spades.
“Let me go,” I mutter, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.
His lip curls much in the same way it had last night at the dinner. “No.”
“This… this isn’t legal. There are laws. I signed a contract.”
“Your contract is no more. You’re mine now.”
Every second spent in his company unnerves me, disturbing my very being. Something about this man unsettles me and I can’t shake it off. There’s a violent, borderline feral energy about him that makes him seem more beast than man, like his black button up shirt and pants are nothing more than a costume for the real animal underneath.
He can barely contain himself. I can sense it from him, emanating in thick, overpowering waves.
Violent urges and dark thoughts.
And I’m his. Heownsme.
“Please,” I choke out. My eyes ache as I blink up at him, tears soon on the way. “I don’t want to be here.”
The vaguest hint of amusement flickers in his gaze. He reaches out to brush tattooed knuckles against my cheek, earning an involuntary flinch from me. “I’m sorry to hear that,mia bella ballerina. This is your home now.”
“No. It can’t be.” I shake my head despite the dread sinking deeper and deeper inside me.
“Yes,bella,” he growls, leaning closer so that I catch a whiff of his masculine scent. Something warm and earthy. “You’re mine. The angel I’ve been dreaming of, and tonight… you’ll be mywife.”
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