When we arrived at the location, the first thing I noticed was the other line of cars parked in the lot. My husband gave me an encouraging smile and I alighted the car, bringing his coat with me.

Waiting on the other side while he grabbed his keys, I shrugged into the coat, belting it up, just in case we bumped into someone. He chuckled when he saw me.

"I already told you that you don't need this," he murmured, walking over to me. His fingers hooked on the belt, and it came undone under his soft tugging.

"Your skin is beautiful," he said as he got the car open and threw the coat into the back seat. "And you, my wife, are very beautiful. There is nothing to cover up."

Red patches appeared on both sides of my face, and he chuckled again, pulling me to his side. Zane took my hands in his and we strolled into the building, stopping at the front desk for Zane to make an inquiry before we continued inside.

I noticed no one as we walked through, and even the lady at the desk didn't give me more than a cursory glance. Soon, I began to feel myself relax in my skin, even joking about the things that happened during the wedding.

But that came to an abrupt halt when we walked into a more private room. A hearth cackled as it burned away in one corner, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. And inside, a few more laughed and joked about something with their deep-set voices bouncing around the walls.

I froze by the door, bringing my hands up to cover my cleavage, but it didn't make any difference because every other thing was out on display.

"I thought you said there was going to be no one else apart from us?" I whispered, holding on to his arms.

"Relax, wifey," Zane said in a loud voice, getting the attention of everyone in the room. "These are my friends, and they are just here to celebrate with you. There is nothing wrong with them taking a peek at what I got married to."

Nothing about Zane's response sat right with me, but I allowed him to bring me with him further into the room. His friends said nothing, but they had abandoned their conversation and now had their attention on me.

Fully.

I sat beside Zane in one of the black leather couches, glued to him so tight that there was so much room between me and the person on my other hand.

"Relax," Zane whispered to me. "They don't bite."

But the problem was that they looked like they did. Their eyes drank me in weirdly, and one of their gazes even lingered on my nipples. I saw the thoughts in his eyes, the desire in how flushed his skin became.

I found myself tugging Zane again. We needed to leave. But before I could get the words out, my cousin, Sophia, sauntered in, carrying a large tray. She was in a pair of shorts that left the bottom of her ass out on display and a tight-fitted crop top with her nipples erect.

I would have judged, but I was here with her in something worse. It didn't matter that I was married.

"Hey, cousin," Sophia called. She waltzed over to me first, dropping the tray on the table before pulling me into her arms. "How have the last few hours been as a married woman?"

My real answer should have been that there was no difference other than the fact that I was now sitting with his friends practically naked, their eyes roaming my body like they had married me as well.

Instead, I smiled sweetly at her. "Great, Sophie. I haven't felt so much love from Zane in a while." I gazed up at him and looked into his eyes. He did the same thing, too, but his gaze faltered as he looked at Sophia. They smiled at each other, and my worry increased a notch.

"I baked a little something for you," I muttered, bringing her attention back to me. "It's in the house."

"Aww! That's so sweet of you. Thanks, Cuz." She retrieved a drink from the tray and handed it to me. "Congratulations again on your wedding."

The rest of the drinks went round and I brought mine to my lips, taking a little sip. It tasted sweet, like a mixture of orange and pineapple. So, I kept drinking until my glass was empty, and there was a funny feeling in my stomach.

Zane's friends had gone back to talking, but this time, Sophie and Zane were in the heart of the conversation. She sat in front of him, on the floor in between his legs, her hands on his thighs. And when he laughed, he pulled her close to him, like something they'd been doing for a while now.

I felt totally abandoned and cut out of the conversation, so I got on my feet.

But suddenly, it felt like I was suspended in mid-air. My head felt so big that it was hard to move without feeling its weight, and my legs were wobbly like I'd had too much to drink.

I turned to look at Zane, but my vision had blurred. I didn't take alcohol. That was a glass of fruit juice.

"Zane?" I called out, my hands reaching for him. But he moved out of my way immediately, and Sophie's laughter rang in the air.

"Can you see me, Lily?" she teased, waving her fingers in my face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Sophie..."

She laughed again as I almost tripped, but this time, the rest of the room joined in. One of Zane's friends suddenly stood in front of me, his cold fingers tracing a thin line on my neck while I struggled to stay awake.

"You were right, Zane," he drawled. I could hear the lust in his voice. "She is such a beauty. Don't you think this is a waste?"

"Sophie is more beautiful," Zane countered. "She is the one I can't share. But as for Lily...you can have your fun. Just make sure to leave some for me, too."

"And me?" Someone else in the room asked. I felt so much irritation wash through me.

Zane laughed. "If she can handle all of you, why not? But honestly, don't hold your hopes up. She is a prude."

"Zane!" I gasped, but his laughter only got louder.

"What? My friends want to have a go. There is nothing wrong with sharing my wife with my friends, is there?"

The one in front of me pinched my nipples with a devious look in his eyes. He licked his lips and winked at me. I wished I could kick him in the balls.

Instead, I did the first thing that came to my mind, even though I wasn't sure any good could come out of it.

I ran.

"What are you doing?" I heard someone call behind me. "Get her back here."

The hallways all looked alike, and sometimes it felt like I was running too fast and at other times, like I hadn't moved an inch.

I could still hear their voices behind me, closing in. They weren't running. I would have been able to tell. Or maybe not, because my senses weren't working anymore.

The only thing I was sure of was that the drink was drugged, and every single person in that room knew even before I took a sip.

But what I couldn't fathom was why. What could I have done to them for them to treat me like this?

"Lily!"

That was Zane's voice, trying to goad me out. There was no need as I whimpered with every step I took, leading them straight to me. I tried to hold it in, but it seemed to find its way out like a broken music box.

I found the stairs and climbed them, even though I had no idea where it was going to lead. My legs wobbled at intervals, but I pulled myself up always, knowing it was either run or let Zane's friends have their way with me tonight.

Rage and fatigue coursed through me. My wedding played in my head like a flashback. Zane coming in late. Sophie sauntering in after him. The look they exchanged. The smug look on their faces. His sudden change in attitude a year ago.

Had it all been leading to this?

Finally reaching the landing of the staircase, I moved to the first door and knocked. Everything still swirled in front of me, and I could barely keep my head up. I wanted to go to bed so badly, but at the same time, I was so scared that it made me constantly look over my shoulder.

Just as I moved on to the next door, the first one clicked open, and someone pushed his head out. I couldn't see his face. Just a lot of finger tousled hair and a single chain dangling from his naked chest.

"Please," I whispered when his eyes fell on me. I didn't think he understood what I was asking for, but he stepped aside surprisingly. I could hear approaching footsteps on the stairs, so I dashed into the room, hoping that this was enough to keep me safe.

He closed the door behind him and turned around to face me. "What is going on?"

My limbs couldn't keep me up any longer. Darkness was approaching. I staggered on my feet as it slipped off the floor, gravity giving up on me. But I didn't land on the ground like I expected.

The smell of earth and cedar teased my nostrils as firm hands wrapped themselves around me. He lifted me like I weighed nothing and dropped me gingerly on the bed, while a knock echoed around the walls.

"Stay here," he whispered, then strode over to the door. I opened my eyes a fraction, enough to see his fingers comb through his hair. He looked restless. I wondered why.

"Open up, man! Did you see anyone run past here?" The eerily familiar voice came from the other end of the door. The stranger who had just saved me pulled it open a crack.

"No!" His tone was sharp, leaving no room for an argument.

"You sure?"

A silence followed, and I moved slightly on the bed.

"Get lost," the stranger snapped. I heard the door slam shut. I sat up and leaned against the bedframe, my body trembling.

"Thank you," I whispered when he walked back into the room. I tried so hard to focus on his features, but the only thing I could see was his hair.

"What the hell did they do to you?" he questioned.

"I...I don't know. The drink...It was drugged, and I had..."

"Figures," he blurted under his breath. "They looked like bastards."

He moved closer, and his features came into view. It was blurry, but at least I could see him. He crouched so we were eye level. His eyes looked...wrong. Glazed. Dark. His hand gripped the edge of the bedframe like he needed it to stay upright.

"You can go now," he muttered. "They should be far gone by now."

I shook my head. "Please, don't let me leave," I whispered, my voice trembling. "They will find me. I don't think I will be able to make it. I can't...."

"You can't what?"

The stranger had suddenly gotten closer, his hands trembling as they grazed my cheek. Our breaths mixed in the air, shallow and raging. I didn't push away from him, even though I knew there was something wrong.

"I'll get you a glass of water," he whispered, moving away from me again.

I was conscious of every inch of him as his feet padded across the room, returning a moment later. He slid the glass onto the nightstand and helped me up, his firm hand sliding under my back.

A shiver ran through my spine, delicious and cold. I pulled away from him then, muttering an incoherent apology as he paused.

But he said nothing, dropping to the ground beside the bed. I reached for the glass, gulping down everything. I should have learned by now not to accept things from strangers. If my husband could drug me, what more could a stranger do?

Yet, for some weird reason, I trusted him as much as I trusted myself.

"Thank you." I wiped my mouth with the back of my palm, feeling much better already.

His head moved in a nod, and silence fell over us again. At the other side of the door, I could still hear them moving.

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" I found myself whispering after a long minute of an oddly comfortable silence. He shifted slightly on the ground, angling his head in my direction. He didn't bother to turn on the lights.

"It's none of my business." He didn't say it in a foul manner. His tone dripped with sincerity and something else.

Something much more delicate that made me want to spill my darkest secrets.

"That was my husband," I said either way. "And my cousin. I think..."

"Shh!" He suddenly whispered, placing a long, slender finger on his lips.

And that was when I heard it.

The knock hit the door so hard the walls shuddered.

I flinched and pressed myself deeper into the stranger's room, my legs turning to liquid again. The stranger's head snapped toward the door, jaw tightening.

"Bathroom," he said under his breath. "Now."

I didn't argue. My feet barely obeyed me as I stumbled toward the small bathroom tucked to the right. He opened the door, ushered me inside, and whispered, "Don't make a sound." Then he closed it, but not all the way, just enough for me to hear everything.

The next round of pounding shook the door.

"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" Zane's voice roared, so loud it vibrated through the tiled walls.

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

The stranger's voice came next, quiet, controlled, and dangerously even.

"Stop hitting my door."

"Don't play games," Zane spat. "A woman ran in here. MY woman."

Through the slit of light, I saw the shadow of the stranger shift.

"No one came in here."

"Bullshit!"

A fist slammed against the door so hard I felt it in my bones.

"You think I didn't see her? She ran this way," Zane snarled. "Open it, or I'll kick it down."

The stranger didn't respond right away. The pause was thick, suffocating, coated with tension so dense I could taste it.

Then, in a low growl, he spoke, "last warning. Get away from my door."

Zane laughed, but there was no humor in it, just arrogance and rage.

"Oh, I get it," he taunted. "You want a turn too? Is that what this is? Think you can play the hero and taste what's mine?"

My stomach twisted. My fingers dug into my palms. The fact that this twisted thinking was all Zane had of me made my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. It had me asking if he even loved me to begin with.

The stranger's reply came slow, clipped.

"She's not yours."

"Excuse me?" Zane barked.

"You heard me."

A charged silence followed, too long, too dangerous.

Then, a crash.

Not the door breaking, thank God, a body hitting it.

I heard a grunt, Zane's.

Then a scrape, followed by a scuffle and the thud of a shoulder slamming into a wall. A curse. A hiss of air. The sound of someone being pushed hard.

"GET. OUT."

The stranger's voice had changed. No calm. No restraint. Just pure threat.

"You don't know who the hell you're messing with!" Zane started, voice strained.

"I don't care who you are," the stranger bit out. "Touch this door again and I'll break you."

A sharp shuffle, like Zane being dragged.

"Take your friends and get out of this hall," the stranger snapped. "If you come back..."

"You'll what?" Zane spat back, though he sounded less sure now. "You'll regret crossing me."

"Not as much as you'll regret coming back," the stranger answered.

Another impact, a body shoved against the hallway wall.

Then silence.

I didn't breathe until the quiet stretched painfully long.

Soon, the bathroom door creaked.

I'd been leaning on it, and without warning, it swung open.

I stumbled forward with a small cry, but didn't hit the floor. Strong hands caught my waist, lifting me just enough that my feet found ground again. My palms flattened against a warm, bare chest.

I gasped and looked up.

His eyes were right there-dark, intense, still burning from whatever had just happened outside. They locked onto mine like they had been waiting for me to look.

For a full heartbeat, neither of us breathed.

"You okay?" he murmured, voice roughened from the confrontation.

I swallowed. "I-I heard everything."

His hands were still on my waist. He didn't pull away. He didn't move at all.

"You dragged him out," I whispered. "You... fought him."

"Had to," he murmured. "He wasn not leaving."

His voice vibrated through me. I felt dizzy again-but not from the drug this time.

"You did not have to protect me," I said softly.

He exhaled through his nose, a shaky sound. "I did."

I wasn't sure who moved first.

Maybe we moved at the same time.

But suddenly, my fingers were in his hair, and his forehead brushed mine, and the space between us, thin and fragile, snapped like a thread.

Our lips met.

The kiss was not soft.

It was desperate, breathless, like everything I'd been holding in; the fear, the shock, the betrayal poured straight into him, and everything he had held back came crashing into me.

His hand slid up my back, pulling me closer. My fingers tightened at the nape of his neck, needing the contact, needing him real.

He kissed me like he could not stop.

I kissed him like I did not want to.

He pressed me back gently, guiding me away from the bathroom doorway until my knees hit the edge of the bed. I fell onto it with a soft gasp, and he followed, bracing himself on his arms so he wouldn't crush me.

"Fuck," he whispered against my lips. Like every restraint he'd been holding in came crashing.

My breath trembled.

"Do you..." My voice wavered, but I made myself ask. "Do you have a condom?"

His eyes darkened with a flicker of surprise, then understanding.

He nodded once.

My heart hammered.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice barely holding.

He leaned in again, kissing me with a heat that stole my breath, one hand cupping my jaw, the other sliding to the small of my back to pull me closer.

The kiss deepened, slow then urgent, his breath mingling with mine as the room blurred, everything narrowing to the warmth of his mouth and the safety of his body over mine.

His hand trailed down my back and a shiver slipped through my lips. I whimpered against his lips and he swallowed every sound that came from my lips fervently.

He pulled away to get rid of his clothes, retrieving a condom from the bedside drawer.

Fuck, this was really happening.