Zola Flash (The Zola Flash Series Book 1) by T. Marie Alexander Page B

through the torn, ragged shirt he wears. I wish there was something I can do to help.
    Trevor comes around to my side of the vehicle and opens my door. He better be happy Earthlings invented child-locks, because, otherwise, I would have been gone. Reaching into the car, he seizes me by the waist and throws me over his shoulder. I’m actually surprise he can carry me.
    I hit Trevor in the back of his head with my fist. He laughs, not that anything is funny. It should’ve hurt him, and I think the only reason it doesn’t is because he’s had too many footballs to the head.
    “That only makes me what you more, Princess,” he says.
    Princess? Oh, gods, does he know?
    He can’t know. He’s human. It’s just a statement.
    “Put me down!” I demand.
    “No.”
    The hotel staff stand by and watch our entrance, without a word or attempt to assist me. Trevor’s father must own this establishment as well.
    Once inside the suite, Trevor places me on a bed covered in white rose petals. I watch as he paces around the room before disappearing into what must be the bathroom.
    I climb off the bed and creep to the suite’s door, but when I open it, a meaty, pale-looking man guards the outside. I see he has both a gun and Taser and as he turns to face me, my stomach churns. The man has the most hideous face. Red and blotchy. His eyes are too small for his round, meaty face.
    I glance back at the bathroom door.  “Look, he’s crazy,” I whisper to the man. “You have to let me out of here!”
    “I’m sorry, Mademoiselle, but Monsieur Smith gave an order to keep you contained within this room.” His voice is soft but squeaky.
    “You don’t understand. He’s … he’s—”
    The man pulls the Taser from his waist. “Mademoiselle, I don’t want to use this. But I will if I have to. Now back away.”
    Oh, please. I can take him with my eyes close.
    He turns away from me, and I slam the door. As I spin back to the room, I find Trevor standing there, and I back up against the door.
    Trevor pulls me toward him, running his hand up and down my spine. I don’t speak. I don’t move. I don’t know how to fight Trevor without physically hurting him. Or revealing myself. Although, I don’t mind hurting him at the moment.
    “This can be really nice for you. Or really rough.” Trevor sneers. “You pick, babe.”
    I slap him, hard. “I don’t think Pin would approve of this.”
    At the mention of Pin’s name, his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow on me, and I realize hitting him probably wasn’t the wisest move in the moment.
    Trevor seizes me, and I pull away, but trip over my own feet. Grabbing my arm, he drags me towards the bed.
    Tears stream down my face as I struggle to get away from him. He throws me on the bed, and I try to stop the tears. I’m not a weak person. Weeping, due to him, makes me weak.
    Trevor pins my hands up against the pillows, as I try to knee him. His hands tighten, and he narrows his eyes at me. He presses himself down on me. I grind my teeth and attempt to pull my hands from his grip, while he moves one of his hands down my body until he reaches the spaghetti strap of my dress.
    This can’t be happening. He was supposed to be my friend. “Trevor, please, please don’t,” I sob.
    Trevor doesn’t acknowledge my pleading.
    “Trevor, stop. I don’t want to—”
    “Of course not!” he interrupts me. “Even if you tried, you wouldn’t win either battle.”
    Trevor slides from the bed and crosses the room, pulling me along with him.
    I don’t fight him.
    I also don’t restrain what I can feel happening to my body.
    Trevor’s hands move to my zipper and tug it down. As the dress falls to the floor, Trevor stands there, his lips parted as his eyes widen.
    Probably because I’ve done the one thing I’ve hoped I could avoid since he started acting like a jerk.
    Trevor’s amorous expression morphs even further into one of terror. His mouth opens wider, as if to let out a scream, but I’m