Chapter 6
Jenny
I ran towards the door, not thinking about the fact that he was standing right there.
His hands grabbed my shoulders as he pulled me closer to him. “Wait, sweetheart. We’re just getting to know each other.”
I tried to shove his hands off, but he was too strong. His fingers dug into my skin so hard I knew there’d be bruises tomorrow.
“Let me go!” I sounded more confident than I actually was.
“No can do. You’ve got to lie down,” he said, dragging me from the door. “I’ve got some people that want to meet you.”
“Get your hands off of me,” I said as coldly as possible and yanking my arm away. I didn’t care that I was shaking as I spoke.
“I don’t think so,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and yanking me back onto the bed as hard as possible.
Self-preservation had me kicking my legs out. My hands were raised into fists, ready to defend against his advances.
He chuckled. “So you like to fight, huh?”
Realization struck. This was a maniac who liked the challenge of an unwilling woman. A predator. And I was his prey.
Eyes locked wide and muscles rigid, I screamed with every bit of energy left in my body. I wasn’t going to be taken without a fight, but there was no doubt by the vicious look in his eyes that he’d be pleased if there was pain involved. My pain.
The scream came again, desperate, terrified. Someone had to hear me. Someone had to come. I had to believe that because the alternative was too dreadful to accept.
Despite my efforts, he easily covered me with his body and pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. His other hand trailed down and tore my dress from my shoulder.
“No,” I said, trying to hold in my tears, thrashing against him on the bed. “No! Please don’t do this.”
He continued pulling my dress down until my breast was bared.
“Help!” My voice had weakened with the strain of trying to get free.
“Oh,” he said softly and covered my mouth with his hand. “Shush. Don’t worry. No one is coming. Just relax. I promise you’ll like it after a little bit.”
“No,” I sobbed, refusing to accept his mouth coming towards my face.
“Stop moving,” he said, holding my face still by the chin.
“No!”
His hand cracked across my face, snapping it to the left with the force of his blow. Heat. Sharp. Fast. Across my cheek. Stars dotted my vision as my head reeled.
For a moment, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. My lungs burned too furiously to inhale, but I was willing to make it hurt. I was willing to do whatever I needed to keep fighting. I wasn’t going to stop. Somehow, from somewhere, the breath came and I took the deepest inhale to scream again.
He would have to kill me.
“Shut up, bitch! What is it going to take for you to shut up?” he shouted so close to my face I felt spittle.
My voice was muffled as I struggled under his hold, but that didn’t stop me from making as many loud sounds as possible.
“You know, your pussy still works if you’re unconscious,” he threatened. “I’m going to get what I came for, sweet cheeks.”
I could feel my stinging cheek wetting with tears. I tried for another scream yet defeat had gripped my heart and only a whimper slipped from my lips. I’d lost.
Shutting my eyes tightly, I willed my mind to go to my happy place. It was the only way my sanity could survive this experience. I pushed aside the feeling of the bastard squeezing my breast and thought about colors and art.
I’d been reduced to wishing the vile act to be over when the door burst open. I had only seconds to react as a man yanked Jay off me. I moved on autopilot, scooting backward until my back was against the headboard. My hand clutched my ruined dress to my chest as I held my knees tightly to my body.
The man was like an animal, pulling Jay from the floor by the shirt to punch his face. He was silent, menacing and yet I wasn’t afraid. He didn’t seem crazy or deranged. He seemed unhinged, but in a protective way. His fists collided with Jay’s face repeatedly, splattering blood on the floor until Jay slumped, unconscious.
He stood, breathing heavily and looking at my captor and almost-rapist before turning back to me. His eyes were so intense, I flinched away instinctively. Those were the eyes of someone you did not want to make angry. In the dim light of the room, his eyes looked soulless, completely black and hollow. He still hadn’t said a word, and I wondered if I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.
I studied his face as he studied mine, wondering if I should be afraid or grateful. Considering he had made no moves to hurt me or continue to undress me, I decided to be grateful. Just thinking about Jay on top of me and what he was delighted to do made that decision very clear for me.
I took advantage of the stillness between us to study him. His muscles were practically bursting from his shirt and his jeans. He was huge compared to me and power oozed from his pores. But I couldn’t help noticing how slowly he walked towards me, carefully gauging my reaction. A lesser man wouldn’t have bothered.
Tattoos covered both his upper arms, making me wonder if he had more under his blue shirt. I was almost certain he did. If only I could end the speculation. If only I could get rid of that shirt and see for myself. The ink should’ve intimidated me, but instead, they made me feel protected. And extremely drawn.
My eyes traveled up to find that he was still watching me. I was a mess and I wanted to smooth my hair down, but couldn’t bring myself to move. I was captivated.
Hands outstretched, he moved closer One measured step at a time.
My heart was beating so hard I feared he could hear it. This wasn’t a frightened response. I wanted this man, my rescuer, to touch me.
His hand grazed my skin as his lips turned downward and I knew he could see where Jay had slapped me. His knuckles wiped over the remaining tears from under my eyes.
He was so close I could feel his breath on my face and I saw that his eyes weren’t black; they were the darkest brown I’d ever seen. There was a thickened scar curving from his jaw down to his neck. It looked old and I wondered, if I asked, would he tell me how he got it?
As I looked into his eyes, I could feel him searching deep into my soul, like he was asking me a question and, whatever it was, I was willing to say yes.
Something shifted between us and my eyes closed. My head tilted upward. Hoping. Praying. Begging for him to kiss me. His lips touched my cheek, just over the bruised skin.
Time stopped. My heart came to a halt. My breath caught in my throat. As the soft skin of his mouth left the side of my face, the exact spot where they had come into contact burned and tingled. A hot, blazing fire pulsed through me and I came alive. A small grin crept onto my face and my cheeks painted themselves rose red. I felt bereft when he pulled away at last. But we didn’t part for long.
He slid his arms under my body. His comforting hand held my back as the other arm slipped under my knees. Then he swung me up into his strong arms, against his hard chest, as if I weighed nothing at all.
I didn’t resist and as he carried me downstairs. I cuddled closer to his warmth. I didn’t care that he was a stranger, that I didn’t even know his name. It didn’t matter that people were probably staring. I just wanted to leave and I knew with him, I would get to do that safely.
He was my guardian angel.
I buried my face onto his chest, inching my nose a little nearer his neck. With my vision blocked, I didn’t have to face the world just yet and I could pretend I was anywhere. Somewhere happy. Anywhere but here.
I felt a small jolt for every stair he took and I could sense the crowd parting around us. One of his hands traveled up my back and covered the back of my head. He was still protecting me—from danger, from curious eyes and from the flailing arms of dancers not paying attention to what was around them.
I could tell when we arrived at the front door from the temperature drop and the way he suddenly stopped.
“What are you doing?” a booming voice asked, and I assumed it was the bouncer.
My rescuer didn’t answer. He only moved sideways to make sure my legs didn’t hit the door rail on the way out.
“Do you know her? You can’t take her. I’m pretty sure she didn’t come with you.”
The man pushed forward, ignoring the bouncer and trying to leave.
“You can’t leave with her, man.”
I could feel his muscles tense and knew the bouncer had made the mistake of touching his arm.
Then he said the first words I'd heard him say all night. “She’s coming with me.”
It was not a suggestion. It was not even a command. It was a statement that came with the threat: Don’t be dumb enough to try to stop me.