You were meant to be mine.His fierce declaration rumbles through my thoughts, and my gut tightens.
You love me.His remembered words hold the ring of command.
As though I don’t have a choice in loving him.
My stomach knots, and my muscles tense.
He shushes me gently and continues stroking my hair in that hypnotic rhythm. I squeeze my eyes shut, longing to stay in the peaceful space with the man I love.
I’ll keep you safe, Abigail. I will do anything to protect you.
A sharp image coalesces in my mind: Dane, covered in mud and a crimson spray that I don’t want to contemplate.
He’d promised to protect me while his heartbreaking face had been splattered with blood.
And then…
A strong hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my scream for help. Dane’s arm catches my vulnerable throat with familiar pressure, restricting my blood flow to my brain. I’m floating, but it’s not a peaceful surrender. He’s smothering me, subduing me.
The horrific memory layers over another dark night, the one that shattered my soul…
A gloved hand covers my nose and mouth, smothering my ability to draw breath. The shadows of my apartment close in, drawing me down into darkness. A low curse rumbles at my ear, and I’m suddenly released from the cruel grip. Oxygen floods my system, and my knees buckle. Strong arms catch me before I fall.
Dane’s arms.
He’s the masked man who violated me. He’s GentAnon, my online confidante.
In all of those late-night correspondences with my anonymous, kinky kindred spirit, I revealed my most illicit, fucked-up fantasies.
And he made them come true.
You liked it. You came all over my hand.
The awful truth rakes at my heart with sharp black claws, and I choke on a painful gasp.
My first instinct is to jolt away from Dane, but I can already feel his bulky muscles coiling around me like a snake, ready to trap me in his perverse embrace.
I force myself to draw in a deep breath and keep my eyes closed. Disassociation comes easily. My mind goes mercifully blank, and my breaths come more naturally as I sink into nothingness. My body shuts down as though I was designed for this, and I’m too far gone to feel disgust over it. It’s always been an act of self-preservation, a way to survive the horror of violation.
But I don’t intend to surrender this time.
I allow the habitual disassociation to relax my body and shield my mind from the terror that hovers just at the edges of my thoughts. In response, Dane’s powerful body relaxes aroundmine. He’s satisfied with my submission, and he doesn’t expect me to try to evade him.
I have to figure out where I am. I have dim, disjointed memories of a flight and an airport. He was holding my passport, back in that awful shrine to me in the powder blue house.
I’m not in Charleston.
Before I blacked out, he mentioned a journeyhome.
My stomach churns at the suspicion that he’s taken me out of the country, but I breathe through it and resolutely remain detached from my tumultuous emotions.
“Where are we?” My voice is soft and oddly flat.
Dane caresses my cheek, but I keep my eyes closed. I can’t risk losing my tenuous, twisted form of serenity until I know more about my situation.
“We’re in my family home in Yorkshire,” he replies. “You’ll be safe here.”
Safe from who?The irate question flits at the periphery of my quiet bubble, and I choose to sink deeper into numbness.
