24
Caroline curledinto a ball of agony and sobbed. She wanted to believe he had lied about her father—she wanted it more than anything she ever wanted in her entire life—but his voice had rang with conviction.
Her father was dead. The only remaining family she had was gone, taken from her without her even knowing. She hadn’t been there to hold her father’s hand as his life slipped away. He’d died not knowing whether she was alive or dead—and Reaper had been there!
What if Reaper was lying, andhehad been the one to kill her father?
That thought alone caused her muscles to clench so tightly that she couldn’t draw in any oxygen. Panic set in when she couldn’t force them to unwind. She couldn’t breathe. Her father was dead, and Reaper had betrayed her.
Pain slammed into her chest with every single heartbeat. How could she have been so naïve? She’d blindly accepted the fact that he’d been there to rescue her while all along he had wanted something from her.
He’d wanted to take her blood just like Dr. Winters had.
Reaper had witnessed her father’s murder—had possibly even taken part in it—but he’d still let her throw herself at him. He’d taken her virginity, knowing all along what he wanted her to do for him, knowing that her father was dead and she didn’t know.
Bile rushed up her throat, her body kicked into survival mode as she sucked in enough oxygen to vomit the contents of her stomach onto the floor next to the cot. She’d done things with Reaper that she’d never done with anyone else. And he had only gone along with it out of a desire to keep her compliant.
Caroline continued to heave, empty dry retching, because there wasn’t anything else left in her stomach to come up. How could he? She had told him that she loved him. Worse than that, shedidlove him.
She could still see the lost and broken part of him despite his hateful words. It was that part that drew her to him.
Oh, God, it was too much. She couldn’t process it. She’d taken him into her body, into her mouth, worshiping him both physically and in her heart.
The pain was too much. Her thoughts fractured into a million shards of painful glass, slicing through her very being. He’d kidnapped her for her blood and then left her to die in this hut where they’d made sweet love.
Pain stabbed her temples and sounds from the jungle seemed to swoop in en masse, roaring in her ears. Her skin burned from the hot, humid air. The roughened ropes beneath the quilt seemed to slice through the skin of her back.
Her back bowed off the bed, and blackness flickered at the edges of her vision, but the agony didn’t subside. Her brain seemed like it was swelling, and stabbing pain and shooting fire coursed a trail down her neck.
She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out.
