As I started to head back towards the kitchen, Jake stopped me, blocking my path with his body, and suddenly he felt a hundred times bigger than he’d originally appeared to me.
“Jake,” I said, hoping I sounded braver than I felt. “Move, please.”
He said nothing, only stared at me, and as I watched his face, his tongue flickered out to lick his lips like an animal stalking their prey.
“Come on, baby,” he said softly, reaching a hand up to touch my cheek. I resisted the urge to flinch as his fingers dropped from my face and onto my chest, fingernails making their way towards my breasts. I caught his hand before he could get there and gently pushed it away, shaking my head.
“I’m not in the mood, Jake. I’m sorry.”
For a moment I thought he might just leave it at that as I tried to step around him, but he didn’t, and a small gasp of terror escaped my lips as he spun on me, grabbing hold of me once again before I could put some distance between the two of us.
“I have to say,” he drawled, blood-shot eyes hazy and unfocused. “I’m a little tired of waiting for you, baby. You’re just not that special.”
“I think you should leave.” Batting his hands away again, I backed towards the door, glancing from side to side to see if I could find any weapons if worse came to worse. “Get out,” I said again. “Call me when you’re sober.”
Jake chuckled, advancing on me, and a moment later my back was pressed against the wall behind me. I was trapped.
“Just relax,” he said, placing his hands on my shoulders. His breath was sour as he leaned in, pinning me against the wall, lips brushing my ear. “Just relax,” he said again. “I know you can’t get over your ex, Peyton, but I’m here to help you with that. Let me show you how good it can be with someone else.”
“Let me go, you prick,” I spat, fists curling at my sides. But it didn’t matter, because Jake had me trapped. Before I could even think of how to get out of this, he snapped my wrists together and shoved them above my head, pressing them painfully against the wall until I winced in pain, helpless as his face approached mine. I tried to turn away but couldn’t as Jake kissed me, the force of his body against mine too much to fight, and I gagged, fighting to get my leg uncaught from between his so I could take a swing at his dick—and not in a sexy way.
“Fuck you,” I cried, and bit down on his lip, hard. Jake yelped and threw his head back, but it wasn’t enough to release his grip on me. Instead, fury filled his eyes and he brought a hand back, swinging it forward to hit me, right across the jaw. My legs buckled beneath me and I fell, sliding to the floor as pain exploded through my skull, screaming at me. Jake still had my hands above my head, and as I tried to struggle back up, he pushed me down, cracking my head against the ceramic floor of the kitchen.
“Don’t fight this,” he gasped, working at the button of his pants with one hand. “You’ve been fighting us for too long, Peyton, and the fighting is done.”
Pushing aside the thickening pain in my skull, I took a deep breath and brough my knee up, hard, into an unexpecting Jake’s groin. He yelped with more pain, but this time it was more intense, more real, and he almost fell backwards off of me. I took the opportunity to roll to the side, dislodging him from me momentarily, and I started to scramble away, hands blindly in search of something—anything—I could use to defend myself. I felt Jake’s hand wrap around my ankle and pull me back. His hand was like steel, relentless and unbroken, and as he flipped me around to straddle me again, there was a knock on the door. A light, low rap that I almost didn’t hear. But I did hear it. We both did. Momentarily Jake was distracted, and it gave me just enough time to reach for the wine glass on the counter before spinning around and nailing him in the head with it.
Red wine and shards of glass showered the kitchen floor, and Jake fell back, clawing at his face angrily.
“Help me!” I screamed, praying I’d left the door unlocked. Jake was still between me and escape, and unless the person was strong enough to bust the door down, he’d come after me again. “Please, help.”
“Peyton?” someone’s muffled voice said on the other side of the door. I recognized it, because it was the first voice I would always recognize, no matter what.
“Korbin!” I screamed just as Jake whirled around and slapped a hand over my mouth. But it was too late for him. The front door burst open, and I heard the wood splinter as Korbin rushed in, dropping the bags he’d been holding on the ground next to his feet. He took one look at the scene in front of him and lost his mind, going at once for the man on the floor who was bleeding from scratches in his face from the glass. Korbin grabbed Jake by the back of the shirt and hauled him to his feet like he was nothing more than a sack of flour, then spun him around and into the wall, shoving his face into the brick, body rigid with rage.
“Korbin, stop,” I pleaded, using the edge of the counter to haul myself to my feet. “Stop hitting him.”
I watched as Korbin’s arm reeled back to swing forward and hit a limp Jake again, but I stumbled up behind him and caught his arm in my hands, holding onto him.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Korbin’s grip loosened from the front of Jake’s shirt and the man crumpled to the ground, bleeding and only semi-conscious. Korbin turned away from him and towards me, his eyes searching my face as the simmering rage that was there an instant ago began to vanish, slowly bubbling away.
“Peyton,” he said. “Jesus, Peyton. I could kill him.”
“No,” I shook my head, reaching a trembling hand up to touch the side of his face. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I just want him to leave.”
Jake was slipping back into consciousness now, his face bloody, and he started for the door, clambering to his feet to limp across the kitchen towards an escape. Korbin followed him closely but didn’t touch him again as the front door opened and Jake fell out into the hallway, cursing and mumbling under his breath. Korbin stepped out after him and I almost called to stop him, but a second later he was back, scowling as he shut the front door behind Jake and locked it.
“I don’t think that sonofabitch will come around here again,” he said, grabbing the bags from the floor that he’d dropped earlier and placing them on the countertop. Then he turned to me, putting a hand on each side of my face as he gazed at me. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I promised. “I—I just wasn’t prepared for it. Jake didn’t seem like that kind of guy.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of shit that a man can hide to get what he wants,” growled Korbin, shaking his head as his fingers touched the skin of my face. “If I see him around again, I can’t promise I won’t kill him.”
As glad as I was to see him, and despite his perfect timing, I still didn’t know how he was here or why.
“Korbin,” I said. “What—what are you doing here?”
