The masked man stands in my doorway, his silhouette cutting through the moonlight. Cold sweat breaks out across my brow and goosebumps prickle across my skin. My breath hitches in my throat like I’ve swallowed broken glass. He fills the entire space with his bulky frame, looking inhumanly large.
I lie still, expecting this to be like before. Him standing there, watching me sleep, getting his kicks from scaring me half to death. As usual, my muscles tense, ready to wait out another staring contest until he disappears back into the shadows.
But something’s off.
Then a memory hits me like a kick in the gut.
I wavedback.
Panic grips me by the throat and squeezes hard. The air thins, and the tips of my fingers go numb.
I hadn’t been thinking straight. Not after that bullshit with Mr. Rochester. When the masked man waved at me, I responded. Gave him permission. Said yes to his sick game.
Is he here to collect?
When he steps forward, my pulse explodes. The masked maniac actually enters my room, snapping me out of my dream. Floorboards creak under his weight, the sound making my skin tingle with a confusing mix of anticipation and terror.
This isn’t like before. This time, he’s not my imagination. This time, he’s real and coming for me.
He advances toward me again, and my body flinches.
Shit. What the hell have I done?
His shoulders widen, and his broad chest rises and falls in the semi-darkness, filling the room with his excited breaths. My heart slams against my ribs so hard that I groan. The sound fills my ears like thunder, setting every nerve ending alight.
I waved back. That was pretty much an invitation.
Hands scrambling for the sheets, I bunch them up to my chest like a shield. I want to squeeze my eyes shut, to will him away, but I keep snatching glimpses of that mask. Black fabric stretches tight over his face, obscuring his features. I can’t even see his eyes. Can’t tell if it’s Rochester behind there, the groundskeeper, the chauffeur, or some psycho who swam over from the mainland to gut me like a fish.
He moves forward, each step a nail in my coffin. Maybe this is punishment for killing the cop, forescaping my pedo husband and his spawn, for thinking I could outrun Gil and his mobsters.
The masked man stops at the foot of my four-poster, staring down at me like I’m prey. I freeze, my body going rigid. Silence stretches between us like a wire about to snap, and my skin breaks out in a cold sweat. My chest heaves with shallow breaths that only scrape the top of my lungs.
With an almighty groan, he slams his hips into the footboard, making the bed shudder with the force of his thrust. Every instinct screams at me to run. But where the fuck will I go? Out the balcony? Off the cliff? Into that creepy forest? He’ll catch me the moment I so much as twitch. This room is a cage, and his huge body is blocking my only safe exit.
“Who are you?” The words slip out in a whisper.
No answer. Just those hips grinding on the wood.
“Mr. Rochester?” My voice cracks.
Still nothing.
My throat convulses. My bed creaks from the force of his thrusts. His silence is worse than any threat. At least if he spoke, I’d know what kind of monster I’m dealing with. This is like being hunted by a ghost.
Something dark rises up through my fear. The same part of me that didn’t hesitate when my husband’s hands were around my throat. When I reached for that iron candlestick holder and taught him I wasn’t taking any more of his abuse. The part that knows how to survive in a world full of predators.
If he plans on hurting me, I won’t go out as a helpless victim.
I lower the sheet, revealing the gaping front of my nightgown. Its fabric is so sheer it might as well be nothing.A cold draft blows across my front, making my nipples stand on end. His hip movements falter for a heartbeat, and the air reverberates with his deep moan. I’ve never heard anything so animalistic.
Breath quickening, I clench my teeth, ready my fists. This maniac needs to know I’m not a terrified little girl.
“What are you waiting for?” I say, meeting his masked gaze. “Get it over with.”
He lunges.
The movement is so sudden that my heart jumps into my throat. Gasping, I scramble toward the headboard, just as he rips off the edge of my bedsheet, exposing my thighs. Instinctively, I curl into myself, but he’s faster.
