Betrayed By Fiancé, Claimed By His Uncle
Chapter 3
The back of the Maybach was massive, but Clare felt like she was suffocating in a sealed box.
The drug was no longer a slow burn. It was a raging forest fire in her blood.
Her skin felt like it was melting. Her rational mind was crumbling piece by piece. She writhed on the leather seat, her legs kicking out weakly.
She clawed at her own throat. The collar of her dress felt like a noose. She grabbed the lapels of Aurthur's coat and ripped them open, exposing her flushed chest to the cool air of the car.
Aurthur's throat bobbed. He jerked his eyes away from her skin and stared straight ahead.
"Stop moving," he commanded. His voice was harsh.
The cold authority in his tone didn't sober her. It acted like gasoline on the fire.
Driven entirely by the chemical demanding relief, Clare's body sought the only source of cold in the car. Him.
She dragged herself across the seat. She slumped against his side, pressing her burning cheek directly against the crisp, cool cotton of his dress shirt.
Aurthur's entire body turned to stone.
His muscles locked so tight they trembled. Eight years of burying his obsession, eight years of forced distance, were being tested by the heat of her skin through his shirt.
He grabbed her shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh as he tried to push her away.
"Clare," he ground out, his voice turning ragged. "Wake up."
Clare blinked. Through the haze of the drug, the sharp scent of cedar filled her lungs. It dragged a memory up from the dark. A quiet afternoon in his study. Safety.
She looked up. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. She stared at the sharp line of his jaw.
"Why did you leave?" she whispered.
The question was a physical knife twisting in Aurthur's chest. He stared down at her. He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her about the threats, the NDA, the Swiss facility.
His silence stretched out, heavy and suffocating.
To Clare, the silence was an answer. It was rejection. It was cruelty.
A sudden, violent wave of grief mixed with the drug's pure lust.
She surged upward. She grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed her lips against his.
It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was a collision. It was desperate, angry, and entirely uncoordinated.
Aurthur's brain short-circuited.
Every wall he had built shattered into dust.
He didn't push her away. He let go of her shoulders and buried his hands in her hair. He took control of the kiss, turning it from a clumsy assault into a brutal, devouring possession. He kissed her with eight years of starved desperation.
Clare gasped against his mouth. The sheer force of his response terrified her. A tiny sliver of reality pierced through the drug.
She shoved her hands against his chest and tore her mouth away.
She fell back against the opposite door, panting heavily. Her chest heaved.
"You bastard," she sobbed, confusion and shame burning her eyes.
She grabbed the door handle, yanking on it wildly. "Stop the car! Let me out! I would rather find a random man on the street than be here with you!"
The air in the car instantly froze.
The invisible string holding Aurthur's sanity together snapped with a loud, violent crack.
A random man.
He had lived in a cage for eight years to keep her pure and safe, and she wanted to give herself to a random man on the street.
He lunged across the seat. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them together with one massive hand. His grip was painful. His eyes were entirely black, devoid of any light.
"You will not," he hissed through his teeth. The words were a lethal threat.
He reached forward and slammed his hand against the intercom button.
"Change the route," Aurthur barked at the driver. The command was absolute.
"Yes, Mr. Bolton," the driver said smoothly.
"Where are we going?" Clare cried out, struggling against his iron grip.
"My penthouse," Aurthur said.
The Maybach took a sharp right turn, abandoning the route to the clinic.
Clare stared at him in pure horror. The drug was pulling her under again, making her limbs heavy and useless. She couldn't fight him. She was trapped in the dark with a predator who had just decided to stop playing by the rules.
You may also like
