Panic blasted through her, and she was reminded of the pill in her hand. She gulped it down so that she wasn't caught with it. She wanted to turn, but another arm swept around her, stilling her. She gasped as he brought her to his chest. He lifted her off her feet, the heat of his body burning between their clothes. He strode forward, with her in his arms, and he pressed her down onto the bed on her belly. His face buried in her hair, he asked, "Who are you? What is your name?"
She shivered beneath him, a jolt of electricity passing through her. She had never been trapped like this before. Her assailant was surely going to kill her, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. Raw panic bloomed in her chest. Why was it, though, that her head was spinning so fast? As though she was about to lose consciousness.
Her senses going haywire, she struggled against him, but her movements were like that of a butterfly against a lion. "I…" Her tongue felt swollen. The man was too strong.
"What games are you playing?" he asked as he flipped her over her back, while still locking her with his muscular arms. His deep husky voice stirred her. He traced a finger over her mask. "Tell me, or I have ways to find out."
She wanted to speak, but now her thoughts were oddly slow. "Lara…" It was difficult to keep her eyes open. She faced her captor and, in the darkness, could only make out the jet hair that fell forward onto his forehead, with the silhouette of a long, chiseled nose beneath it. A shadow was cast over his features by flickering flame. The way he embraced her—it was an alien feeling.
"Who are you?" she asked, her throat paper dry, her body limp. The pill. It would be her doom.
"That's not important here," he replied. He tilted his head slightly and then his mouth was on hers.
Marcus kissed Lara. And it wasn't a light feather kiss. It was harsh, demanding and deep.