The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica) by Eden Myles Page A

cow?”
    “Fuck you!”
    His face blanked like the good little psychopath he was. He started toward me, and I saw the flash of the orange box cutter in his hand. I thought about screaming, but I was pretty sure there was no one in the building to hear. It would be a waste of energy.
    Instead, I turned on my heels and raced back down the corridor, even as I heard the pounding of Clark’s footsteps closing in behind me. I grabbed at the doorknob of the first door I came to but it was locked, I tried the second and third. Locked! I abandoned the rest of the shop classes and ran full tilt, heart slamming around my chest like a windblown bird, to the automotive garage. That, at least, was open.
    The campus taught restoration classes on the weekends, and there were several classical cars up on lifts. I spotted an emergency fire exit, but I knew if I hit the crash bar, sirens would go off, and then Clark would know I was out in the parking lot. Could I outrun him before fire trucks or police cars arrived? I doubted it. But it did give me an idea.
    I hit the crash bar and the alarms started singing, but then turned on my heels and slipped behind a vintage Mustang on a lift. I pressed my back flat to the dented panel of the car, hoping the darkness would shield me and the sirens would frighten or deter Clark.
    No such luck. He pounded into the garage moments lat er, despite the alarms going off, then headed for the exit.
    Please , I thought, peeking out from behind the Mustang. Please, please, please go out into the parking lot. Response times for campus fires were usually very quick—ten minutes, at most. I only had to hold out that long before half the police force arrived.
    I held my breath and waited. Clark, looking pissed and gripping the knife like he meant business, kicked the door fully open, then stepped out into the night.
    Thank god! I thought, though I stayed exactly where I was for the next few minutes. Very distantly, I could hear the first whine of an approaching fire truck. I took that as a good sign that help was on its way and slipped out from behind the Mustang, hoping to make a beeline for the corridor.
    B ut as I started that way, someone grabbed me around the shoulders and pulled me back against his body. Clark. I tried to fight and kick, but I was just too small to do much damage.
    “You fucking bitch! Did you think you could outwit me?”
    The box cutter flashed across the side of my face. The blade caught me at the top of my cheekbone and slashed my skin at a diagonal, peeling back a good flap of flesh. I didn’t feel pain, just a sickening numbness as my blood painted the side of the Mustang. I screamed through blood and panic, so loud that Clark actually let me go. I fell down onto my knees, then scrambled up and made for the exit into the corridor. Clark swore and I heard the pounding of his feet as he pursued me.
    I was now running on pure adrenaline. Desperate, I covered the long, dark corridor in seconds, turned the bend…and nearly ran straight into Dorian, who was standing there in a long, dark grey raincoat, a dangerous expression on his face. I marveled but did not question this miracle. I ran straight into his arm and he looped one long arm around me even as Clark pounded around the corner toward us.
    He suddenly stopped, and as I turned around, I saw he wore a deer-in-the-headlights expression. He hadn’t expected to see someone like Dorian in the college corridors in the middle of the night.
    “You!” Dorian boomed, and his striking blue eyes held a peculiar kind of dangerous fire. He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body.
    Clark stopped, dropped the kn ife, and immediately turned and headed back down the corridor, only to stop once more. Damian was stepping out of the Automotive Garage, dressed exactly like his brother, in a similar coat that managed to hide all his tattoos so they were identical. Clark stuttered at the sight of two men who looked exactly alike. He couldn’t