Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 38

    "Ah," Fulsmith came out of nowhere, taking her arm and leading her to the table.

    He pulled out a chair for her, bowing mockingly. She sat down, shuddering as he ran a hand over her basically bare shoulders. The sound of her own heart beating threatened to deafen her, and she wondered if he could hear it.

    His nearness overpowered her senses. He was all she could smell or feel, and her sight blurred. Every move he made was deafening in her ears. She had to pull herself together. She had to do something. Had to get out of here.

    "I had no idea it would fit you so well." Fulsmith ran his hands down her arms, his breath hot on her ear.

    Cassandra couldn't breathe. She sat rigidly in her chair afraid to move lest he decide to pounce upon her. However, he had other things in mind and moved down the length of the table until he was sitting in the chair at the head of the table, putting a good eight feet between them.

    With the distance, her mind achieved some clarity. This was where her story ended. She was going to die tonight. The knowledge chilled her to the bone, but it was better than the alternative.

    "Please, dig in." He leered at her, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

    Forcing a smile, she scooped something off the nearest tray, dumping it unceremoniously onto her plate. Had her stomach not been twisted into a thousand knots, she might have realized just how hungry she actually was. All she could think about was finding something to defend herself.

    On the opposite side of the table, Fulsmith had filled his plate already, his eyes never leaving her. He was intent on watching her every move. Under his intense scrutiny, Cassandra lifted her fork to her mouth.

    The food was tasteless. Dry. Her movements tight and awkward, she took another bite. She couldn't focus properly under his penetrating gaze, and as she lifted her wine glass to her lips, it slipped out of her hands.

    The crash of the shattering glass was deafening, and she gasped. The red liquid slowly crawled across the pure white tablecloth, staining it like blood. Cassandra shuddered.

    "Relax." Fulsmith whispered in her ear.

    Cassandra jerked away from him, unsure how he had closed the distance between them so swiftly and silently. His fingers closed on her jaw, a persistent yet painless grasp. He smiled at her.

    "Do I frighten you?" He smiled.

    She didn't respond. Icy fingers of dread were tracing the length of her spine. She had to act. She had to move now. She couldn't wait. Her fingers crawled across the table, desperately searching for something to use in her defense.

    "You needn't be scared. It's just the two of us." He leaned closer, and she pushed further away from him until her chair was biting painfully into her flesh.

    He stepped away from her for a brief moment, removing his evening jacket and loosening his cravat. Running a hand through his sparse hair, he pressed close again. One of his hands touched the bare skin of her thigh.

    "You can give yourself to me. We can do this the easy way." He breathed, and she nearly gagged on his rank breath.

    "Go to hell." Her fingers closed around the handle of a utensil, and she rammed it at him with as much force as she could muster.

    Fulsmith bellowed as the meat fork sank into his skin, jerking away from her. Blood spilled down the front of his shirt. She'd gotten him in the soft spot right above his underarm, but she didn't wait to see exactly how much damage she'd caused.

    Shoving away from the table, she scrambled in the opposite direction of him. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. All she could think about was getting away from him.

    "So that's how you want to play." His voice gave wings to her feet.

    There was no door on the other side of the room. There was only one way of escape, and he stood between her and it. Cassandra turned away from the wall, trying to plan another escape route.

    Fulsmith hadn't run after her. He'd known she was trapped. Instead, he moved slowly like a cat about to pounce on its prey. The meat fork was nowhere to be seen now, but his blood had made a path down his shirt.

    "Come now, you didn't really think I'd let you get away that easily." His eyes looked over her almost completely exposed body as his lips twisted in a cruel smile. "Did you think I'd go to all that trouble for you to let you escape?"

    The distance between them was closing rapidly. She had to do something but what? The windows!

    On the wall to her left were two large windows. If she could get to them. . .she'd have to break them, but they might be her only shot at this point.

    Pushing away from the wall, she made for the table. She had to find something heavy to. . .

    Fingers closed around her arm in an ironlike grasp, jerking her backwards. A cry escaped her lips as Fulsmith pulled her against him.

    "No more running, love." His breath stirred her hair, and she heard him inhale deeply. "I'm going to enjoy this."

    "No!" She heard herself scream, hardly aware that she'd even opened her mouth.

    "Oh, yes." Fulsmith pushed her backwards until the back of her thighs pressed against the edge of the table. "Oh, yes." He repeated, leering darkly at her. "Now you'll pay for this." He indicated his injured shoulder.

    "Let. Her. Go." The all-too-familiar voice was like music in her ears, and Cassandra heard herself cry out in relief.

    "Nickolas!"

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Christmas came early, y'all! I ended up having far more time and brain power to work on this than I expected—mainly due to the fact that I got food poisoning on Sunday afternoon and puked my guts out so I didn't have to work yesterday. . . .yay. . .🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I wanted to get this up early, because you guys are amazing, and I want you to know that I appreciate every. Single. One. Of you. Truly.

Also, dang, I had myself on edge writing this chapter! I know where this book is going to end, but I feel like there are at least ten more chapters to go. . .hopefully that's cool, because I can't really cut out the stuff that I have planned. . .