Registering his words was impossible, not when his grip on my hip felt like a searing brand. Even as the reality of the situation began to sink in, my body felt heavy and anchored, showing no interest in rising from my current position. Danger radiated off him like a beacon, yet it only served to make my body betray me; the peaks of my breasts tightened in an involuntary response to his proximity.
As though he could read my thoughts or perhaps just the physical cues of my body, his eyes shifted down to my chest. The crimson in his irises bled into a darker, more predatory scarlet. "Run," he repeated, his voice dropping to a register impossibly lower than before. The vibration of it resounded deep inside my chest, striking a chord I didn't want to acknowledge.
