Temptations (#Wattys2017)

Twelve

Exiting the bathroom, she expected to open the door to see Lucy still waiting, yet there was no sign of her outside. Instead she was pushed to the side by a girl who was obviously too desperate to wait for Saskia to move.

"Excuse you!" she yelled after the girl, who merely slammed the door shut. After glaring daggers through the door, she decided to go in search of at least one of her friends. Saskia was beginning to feel really quite dizzy despite only having a few drinks, yet she tried to keep up the pretence that she could walk in a straight line.

Sliding aside one of the extensive glass doors leading to the gardens, Saskia tumbled out into the cool night's breeze, her long hair flowing behind her. Goosebumps rippled along her bare skin, and she vaguely recalled leaving her jacket somewhere inside.

Scanning her surroundings with an increasingly fuzzy head, she could make out groups of people in the swimming pool, or hanging out in secluded areas of the maze-like garden. A girl screeched as her friends tried to throw her in the pool, the sound piercing through her skull. Saskia winced, before starting down one of the stone pathways that was set into the well-kept grass, hoping to see some sign of her friends.

"Well, well, who do we have here?" A gravelly voice drawled from behind her—way too close for her liking. Saskia whirled, stumbling slightly, to face the guy standing right behind her, close enough that she could finally make out the colour of his irises—dark brown, the colour of fresh soil.

It was the stranger who had been staring at her in the kitchen at the beginning of the night. Stubble coated his jawline, and his dirt brown hair was lazily pushed back from his face to reveal shadows beneath his dark eyes. He also reeked of alcohol. Unease crept beneath her skin, causing her to shudder almost inperceptibly—but he noticed. A smirk spread across his face as he murmured, "Let's go somewhere quieter, shall we?"

The world span again as he pulled her along with a well-muscled arm, her attempts to protest were feeble as she felt the strength rapidly leaving her body. What the hell was going on?

"What...the fuck, get off me..." she said, weakly slapping his arm. The limb felt numb so she held it out in fascination, attempting to flex her fingers. The guy merely adjusted his grip on her arm and placed the other around her waist as he steered her further away from where everyone else was gathered.

Eventually, he halted just inside a cluster of trees on the outskirts of the garden, which was obscured from view of the house. Grinning darkly at her, he pushed Saskia against a tree and pressed his body against hers, pinning her against the rough bark. It scraped against any exposed skin as she struggled to move, her limbs now feeling like dead weights.

Small beads of blood seeped through the grazes on her delicate skin, but Saskia barely noticed. He seemed to revel in her attempts to struggle, as he crooned, "You don't want to leave, not really."

Lowering his head, he planted a harsh kiss onto her neck. "Relax," he pulled down one of the straps from her shoulder. "You might even enjoy it," he taunted, grasping her breast through her dress.

"Stop," she tried to demand, but her voice was so soft even she almost didn't hear it. His face was becoming blurry, and her ears were now ringing. Panic reverberated through her, but nothing coherent would come out of her mouth.

His other hand travelled roughly down, gripping the hem of her dress. "You were staring at me too, don't deny it," he drawled, as he tugged the material up with one hand, almost high enough to expose her lacy underwear—"Get your hands off her!" Someone snarled, seconds before a pair of strong hands yanked the stranger off of Saskia, throwing him to the ground while she eagerly guzzled down fresh air, momentarily ecstatic that she could breath properly again.

Her vision was swimming, yet she could just about make out Evan's determined face as he punched the guy so hard blood sprayed from his nose. Her attacker swore colourfully, holding one hand to his blood-streaked face as he scrambled to get away, leaves and dirt scattered in his dirty brown hair from where he had landed in the bushes.

Evan started to run after him but turned as he heard Saskia slump to the ground, and she pressed her face against the cool blades of grass. So hot—her skin was on fire. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to let Evan see her upset.

He rushed over, sinking to his knees and brushing damp strands of hair out of her face. "Are you okay?" Evan demanded. She jerked out of the touch, and thought she saw hurt flicker in his blue eyes—calm and still like the sea on a balmy day.

"Not really... think someone... spiked my drink," she rasped, struggling to force the words out. There was no way she was simply drunk, someone must have done this to her. She attempted to feel rage, but all she could summon was numbness and exhaustion.

Her eyelids began to droop, but she felt Evan rise into a crouch. "I'm going to have to carry you," he declared, and she merely nodded in response. She couldn't even sit up properly, let alone walk.

Hooking one arm beneath her shoulders and the other below her knees, he stood and cradled her against his chest. Forgetting who was holding her, she turned her face into his chest and breathed him in—despite his powerful presence, he was also oddly comforting. He tried not to jostle her as he walked back towards the garden. Evan had just cleared the veil of trees when a familiar voice hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

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