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“All right,” the driver says, so either he isn’t that invested, or he trusts the guy who’s willing to tangle with Hex if he needs to.
I would really like to know their names to see if I’ve heard anything about either of them, but as with my previous kidnapping, no introductions are made.
Too bad.
“Help her down,” Shane says, and presumably the guy who isn’t Shane or the driver stands and comes over to take my hands and pull me up.
His grip is sure but impersonal, which makes sense given Shane said there’s a girl he likes and it sounded like it was in the early stages if she “needs to be told” she’s his. He’s definitely not afraid of Hex, while the other guys seem less inclined to tangle with him.
Killian and Aiden both seemed to agree that “king of the Blue Bloods” came down to Hex and Silvan, but Silvan had his own thing going on and wouldn’t be interested in the title. Killian also told me about what a good friend Silvan was, and while we’re certainly not friends, he did vouch for me just now, despite not really knowing me. Either he trusts Shane’s judgment about me, or he trusts Killian’s, but my hunch is…
“Silvan?”
Rather than answer me, he plants a big hand atop my head and makes me duck. “Watch your head.”
I’m afraid to step down when I can’t see where I’m going and I’m not wearing shoes. I guess he notices my hesitation, because he grabs me around the waist and lifts me out of the car.
I gasp as he does, instinctively grabbing at him. I feel a muscular bicep and broad shoulder, so I guess my grab landed.
“Easy there,” he says good-naturedly, but he wastes little time removing my hand from his body.
“Sorry,” I say, feeling my face warm. “I didn’t mean to—I was just—I didn’t want to fall.”
“You’re fine,” he assures me. “And yes, I’m Silvan. Curious how you know me, but I don’t know you, though.”
“Apparently you’re very popular,” I inform him.
“Am I?” he asks, sounding amused.
I nod. “I hear you throw great parties.”
Silvan chuckles, then he grabs my arm and slowly leads me forward.
Unfortunately, since I was ripped from my bed and hauled out of my apartment like a sack of potatoes, I’m barefoot. I can feel the damp sidewalk beneath me, then I feel when the texture changes.
A door opens a second later.
“Watch your step,” Silvan says, still guiding me.
“It would be helpful if I could take off the blindfold,” I point out.
“Don’t push your luck,” he advises.
“I’m just saying,” I murmur.
I cross the threshold and judge this floor to be some kind of tile, maybe. No, hardwood.
The door closes behind me.
“This is taking too long,” Shane states, and a moment later Silvan is no longer guiding me and Shane is picking me up, planting his arm under my ass and hoisting me so he can throw me over his shoulder again.
I sigh with annoyance because this is not comfortable.
He doesn’t seem to care, though.
He is quicker carrying me than I was walking blindfolded, but I still get the impression I’m being hauled quite a ways because we’re walking for a while, traversing different levels. I can tell the rooms are changing, too. Some smaller, others more cavernous.
It feels cooler when we get to the last room. Bigger, too.
