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Skyway fluttered open. The ether was wearing off, leaving her groggy and nas. She saw a face above her. Liam.
“No,” she mumbled, trying to push him away. Her arms felt like lead. “Stop.”
“It’s okay,” Liam marmured, kissing her shoulder. “I’m here. We’re together.”
He moved his hand down her waist. He wasn’t aggressive, just heavy-dead weight and affection she didn’t want.
Skyw panicked. The adrenaline cut through the drug hans.
“Get off met” she screamed, finding her voice.
She grabbed the heavy glass lamp from the bedside table and swung it with all her remaining strength.
Smash.
The lamp connected with Liam’s temple. The bulb shattered. Blood sprayed onto the white shots
Liam shouted in pain, rolling off her. He clutched his head, staring at the blood on his hands.
“You hit me,” he said, his eyes darkening. The alcohol and the blow to the head turned his confusion into clumsy, wounded anger. “I’m trying to love you, and you hit me
He grabbed her ankle as she tried to crawl away. He dragged her back down the bed.
“You’re my wife” he yelled. “You belong to met
“Help!”Skyscreamed. “Alistair”
Liam pinned her wrists to the mattress using his body weight, avoiding his broken hand. He looked down at her, tears mixing with the blood on his face.
“Why won’t you love me?”
Click. Beep.
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The door didn’t get kicked in. The electronic lock besped green, authorized by a master key.
Alistair Thorne stood in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. His loves were rolled up. He looked like death incarnate. A silenced pistol hung in one hand.
He saw Lin on top of Skyw
Alistair didn’t apak
He crossed the room in two strides, holstered the gun, and grabbed Liam by the back of his shirt and the belt of his pants. He lifted him off the bed like he weighed nothing and threw him.
Liam flew across the room, smashing into the drawer. The mirrors shattered, raining glass down on him.
Alistair stood over him. He pulled hack his fast and drove it into Liam’s face.
Crunch.
Liam’s nose broke. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Alistair turned to the bed. His face softened instantly. He took off his dress shirt-he was wearing a white undershirt beneath and wrapped it around Skyw’s shivering, torn hody.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, lifting her into his arms. “I’ve got you.”
