Chapter Nine

The giant brought Cora her meal that night, and like most deliveries, he said nothing as he set the tray down on a crate. He dusted his hands on his pants and turned straight back towards the door without a single glance in her direction.

“I’m Cora,” she blurted before he could leave.

Warm, shrewd eyes bore into her, narrowing the longer he took to calculate his answer. “August.”

She offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He hesitated. He studied her open palm with the chin tilted curiosity of someone faced with a life altering decision. She’d never seen anyone so conflicted about a handshake.

“Thank you for the food,” she said instead, using her unaccepted hand to motion to the platter of roasted chicken, steamed veggies, and whole wheat bun.

Had she hoped for a shred of dialogue, a sliver of conversation during her endless hours of isolation, she was left sadly wanting when he merely inclined his head and walked out. The hinges whined pitifully, a desperate little shrill she felt resonate all the way through her.

Then she was alone again, abandoned with her own inner voices and misery.

Christ, she was so bored.

The veggies needed salt, but the chicken was perfectly seasoned and tender. It practically melted in her mouth with every bite. She ate the whole thigh, the bread, and even the diced carrots and broccoli. She left the empty plates on the tray and sat on the cot.

She counted the square sheets of metal bolted into the walls. She counted the four, fat screws bolted into each slab of metal. She counted the number of crates and the number of wood panels along the sides. She flopped onto her back on the thin mattress and willed herself to sleep. Leaving that plane of existence was the only outlet to sanity she had remaining, but even she’d maxed her sleeping quota, because each time she tried, it became less and less. It was only a matter of time before it stopped all together, when she’d slept so much she couldn’t ever again.

Mercy arrived with the disturbance of hinges and the door being forced open. August’s return for the dishes was accompanied by Nicholas, which immediately prompted Cora upright.

“Come with me,” he commanded from the doorway.

“If I want to live?” Cora challenged with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“Yes,” he replied without missing a beat.

Despite it all, Cora felt her lips twitch at his ability to actually make a joke. She hadn’t thought it possible, yet even Nicholas almost grinned. Almost. It was for that reason she didn’t argue when she pushed to her feet and followed him through the stairs and corridors to James’s room.

The door stood open and the man himself sat at his desk, an untouched plate at his elbow. His left hand wielded a pen that drifted gracefully over the papers before him. His right hand held a chilled beer half poised to his lips, as if he’d started to drink then got distracted. He lowered it when they entered. The bottle made a dull thud when it hit the table.

“Have a seat.” He motioned to the only available spot—the bed. The unmade bed. The bed layered with memories of his hands and mouth moving and gliding with expert ease over the hills and valleys of her body. “Cora?”

She’d taken too long. He was staring at her now, taking her in, and she prayed to God he couldn’t see the burn creeping up her chest to fill her cheeks.

“I’m all right standing.”

His chair squeaked as he turned to face her fully. He didn’t push her, but he joined her on his feet. His gray eyes held hers from a bleak expression. Something in it sent her heart into her stomach.

“What?”

Even as she asked, she could see the answer in the firm lines of his mouth. She could feel it vibrating through the room, tainting the air with a coppery taste. She tried to swallow it down, but the vile paste only made her want to gag. All she could do was stand her ground and face whatever was coming.

She became aware of the other man in the room, the one stationed just inside the door, the one wearing the same expression as his captain. Nicholas seemed to be waiting for her to do something rash, maybe scream hysterically and throw herself at his boss, claws first. Maybe he thought she’d try and run, not that she’d get far ... unless she dove into the ocean. Which made her think maybe they didn’t want her dead, or dead by her own hands. Maybe they planned to chop up pieces of her and send them to her father. That made the most sense.

“We’re taking you home.”

Still shrouded in all the grotesque possibilities, Cora wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, or if those words were merely figments of her imagination, because home hadn’t been in her morbid scenarios.

“What?”

James rested one ass cheek on his desk, reminding her of a teacher about to deliver a failing grade.

“We’ve already rerouted course,” he told her, gesturing to the window with a nod of his chin. “It’ll be a couple of days, but you’ll be back with your family by the end of the week.”

The air she’d trapped in her lungs expelled in a rush, like letting air out of a balloon. “What ... are you serious?” A disbelieving laugh escaped her. “You’re taking me home? Just like that?”

James nodded slowly. “Just like that.”

“Did ... did you talk to my dad? Is that why—?”

“No,” he said. “We’ll contact him when we hit land.”

Not sure what the protocol was for a situation like that, Cora simply stood there, hand clapped over her grinning mouth. Part of her wanted to scream and jump up and down. The other part of her wanted to fall to the floor in hysterical sobs. But all she could do was stand there, unable to catch her breath.

“I don’t ... I don’t know what to say ... thank you.”

Rather than respond, James ran a tongue over his bottom lip and stole another glance at his partner. The two held gazes a full heartbeat before she was the main focus once more.

“There is one thing before you go back.”

The euphoric sensation lifted a fraction, but didn’t dissipate entirely. She was too heady with the thought of going home to spot the hidden meaning behind those words. The ominous nature of them should have had her taking a step back.

“Okay, what?” 

James pushed to his full height, an almost dismissive gesture. “We can discuss that later. Nicholas is going to take you back to your room for now.”

A part of her knew she should push. Her father had always warned her about simply accepting things at face value. Anything worth having should never be given away that freely, and he was giving her the one thing she wanted more than anything without offering her his price for it.

But what did it matter? Whatever he wanted, she would get. Possessions were simple things to achieve. She had things, and if it was something she didn’t have, she would get it. Short of murdering someone, she would do whatever he wanted.

How bad could it be?

The next two days were excruciating, calculated solely by the comings and goings of August, and the occasional interruption by Presley escorting her to the bathroom. No one else came for her. Not James, or Nicholas. Both seemed more preoccupied with other matters, which suited her just fine. For the first time since her captivity, her own company was all she wanted. There was no one to question why she couldn’t stop grinning.

She was going home. Nothing else mattered.

On the sunset on her final day, her last supper never arrived.

She kept watching the door, wondering if her anticipation was making it feel like hours had gone by when it hadn’t. But the obstacle remained firmly sealed, a barricade against the world.

It reached a point where she began to wonder if maybe James had lied.

It was possible.

It wasn’t like she could see the coastline, and even if she could, she had no idea what to look for. They could very well be all the way around the globe by now. The whole thing could have been a trick to keep her quiet, to keep her compliant until they arrived. Then she’d have no choice but to go wherever they took her.

The paranoia was all consuming. It ate at her until she couldn’t focus on anything else. It nearly drove her to climb the walls, to bang on the door until somebody answered and gave her peace of mind.

When the door finally opened, it was so unexpected, Cora jumped. The bedsprings jangled loudly, and were ignored as Nicholas entered in his usual stoic manner. He stopped just inside.

“The captain wishes to see you.”

Cora was shoving past him even before he finished speaking.

She wished to see the captain as well.

The cabin door was shoved open by her, but Nicholas held it until she’d passed under his arm. Then he shut it, trapping her in with the man in the dimly lit room.

He stood next to a small, square table set for two. There were no candles, or soft music, not even a table cloth, but the intimacy of it prickled the uncertainty she could feel itching along the back of her neck. It increased when he pulled out a seat for her and motioned her to sit.

She didn’t move.

“What is this?”

“Dinner.” He patted the back of the seat. “We have things that need to be discussed and we don’t have a lot of time to do it.”

Accepting that that seemed reasonable, she relented. Her sock-clad feet whispered with her shuffle forward. The chair was held as she lowered herself into it. It was nudged into place before a plate of spaghetti.

The gallantry was unnerving. She would never have accused him of being a gentleman, of being capable of such a thing as manners. Thus far, he’d been nothing but brute force and unwavering authority.

This side of him scared her more than all the others combined.

“Are we nearly to land?” she asked, breaking the silence.

James claimed his seat across from her. “We’ll arrive by dawn.”

That familiar brewing of excitement frothed in the pit of her stomach, distracting her from his momentary lapse in character. She could barely contain herself.

“Then I can see my parents?”

Silver eyes rose and met hers over the twin simply placed meals. “Nicholas will contact them in the morning and set up a place to meet.”

She had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound. She had to curl her fingers and sink the nails into her palms to keep from trembling too hard, so afraid that if he knew how much this meant to her, he might take it away just to toy with her.

Just to terrorize her.

Just because he could.

The twisted fact of that only convulsed in her stomach, a coiling barb digging in.

“You said you wanted to discuss something.” She picked up her fork; spaghetti had never looked so delicious. “Is it your conditions? Have you decided?”

“I have.”

She twisted a heap of pasta around the prongs, but kept it on the plate, not trusting her grip to hold all the way to her mouth.

“What is it?”

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

His silence bore into her, a pitiless weight testing her resistance. She could feel herself wavering beneath it, beneath his stare, beneath those damn eyes. There was no mercy there, no kindness. Yet despite the absence of compassion, the silver radiated with heat, a dark, twisted beckoning that transformed her spit to ashes.

Whatever he wanted from her, she no longer felt like she could pay it. The cost was already too high.

He must have known this, because he smirked, and nothing had ever terrified her more.

“You’re going to marry me.”

The fork slipped from her fingers. It struck the edges of her plate with a deafening clatter, and was immediately forgotten.

She started at him, certain he was out of his fucking mind. “What did you say?”

“It’s a small price to pay for your freedom,” he justified as if that made everything better. “And it’s what I want in return.”

She couldn’t breathe. The air had grown thick, muggy. Swamp air, but brutally cold. Brittle. She could feel herself suffocating.

“You’re crazy.”

The corners of his lips became razor blades, cutting, cruel in their rise. “I’ve been called worse.” He unleashed her from his stripping gaze and peered at the lump cooling in his plate. He prodded at the noodles with the tips of his fork. “Only now...” His lashes lifted. She was caught in his trap all over again. “I’m your crazy.”

“No.” Her voice hitched. “I won’t.”

One shoulder barely lifted in a dismissive twitch that must have passed for a shrug. “Marry me, or we turn around and you’ll never see home again.” He checked his watch. “You have twelve minutes to decide.”

Her heart clapped an unsteady beat that sent violent shockwaves through the rest of her. She could taste it pumping her blood, could taste it at the back of her mouth. Ashes. It tasted like ashes, sickness. Pennies. She wanted to throw up.

“Eleven.”

Her head spun. A wicked rush of vertigo that sent her scrambling from her chair to the trash bin next to his desk. She hit the floor with both knees and retched.

Her lunch and breakfast hit the bottom, soaking the wades of crumpled paper. It permeated the room, absorbing the scent of tomato sauce and making her sicker.

“Not the reaction a guy hopes for when proposing.”

His musing sounded muffled beneath the dull buzz packing her brain like cotton. She didn’t hear him get up, didn’t hear him move until her hair was being scooped up off her neck, away from her face. The coolness of his touch nearly had her face turning into the gentle comfort.

He waited, patiently saying nothing until there was nothing left but her quiet sobs and shuddering wheezes.

“Good?”

At her unsteady nod, he folded himself, crouching until he was practically sitting next to her. Her hair was released. Those same fingers tucked beneath her chin and turned her face, a face wet with sweat, tears, snot, and vomit to his.

“No...”

He ignored her weak protest, ignored her struggle when he scooped her up into his arms.

She stood no chance.

She didn’t bother.

She said nothing as he carried her to the bathroom and set her on the toilet seat.

The water was run. A rag was dampened. Then her chin was in his fingers again. Her face was tilted to his.

He cleaned her up with a single-minded focus that almost made her forget why she’d been sick in the first place.

“Better?”

Numb, she managed something passing a nod.

He took her back into the next room. She was returned to her chair. A glass of water was pressed into her hands. Half its contents wound up down her front, but she took one gulp, mostly to rinse the taste from her mouth.

He regained his seat and leaned back, waiting.

“Please...” Her voice rasped. Her throat raw. “Please don’t do this.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Her gaze lifted to the man regarding her with the first real of remorse she’d ever seen on his face.

“There has to be something else,” she urged. “Anything...”

“You’re running out of time, Cora.”

“I know about your sister.”

As she’d hoped, his eyelids snapped up. “What do you think you know?”

Cora braced herself. “I know what happened to her and I know you blame my father.”

“What do you think you know?” he repeated, slower, with a deadly undertone that made her wish she hadn’t said anything. “Tell me.”

Her lungs hitched mid swallow and she nearly choked on her own spit. But she forced it down, forced it all down, all the fear, the uncertainty, and madness.

“I know you think he ... that he assaulted her.”

His features churned, twisting, morphing from vicious into a spine-chilling smile that should have made him handsome, but only served to transform him into a demon.

“No.” He shook his head slowly, barely at all. “No, sweetheart, he didn’t assault her. He brutalized her. He tormented her. He violated her in such a way that the only way she could make it stop was to take that final step off a bridge into oncoming traffic.”

Cora gasped, the image crippling.

James pushed to his feet and moved to his desk. He pulled open the middle drawer and unearthed a photo.

She didn’t want it, didn’t want to see it. But it was tossed down in front of her.

“That’s Annie,” he told her, pinning it to the table top with just one finger. “She was sixteen when this was taken. It’s the last photo of her that was ever taken. Eight months later, they were shoveling her off the concrete.”

“Stop...”

She tore out of her chair. She couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear the sight of that beautiful, smiling face peering up at her. Only to be grabbed and jerked back down.

“No!” His snarl stilled her. “Look at her. This is just one of the things your father stole from me. My sister. My baby sister. My twin.”

His hissing confession tore her gaze away from Annie’s face to his. Her lips parted.

“What?”

He smirked. “I thought you knew.” He straightened. “I thought you knew everything.”

“James, I...”

He scoffed and looked away as if the sight of her disgusted him. “While you were learning about green eggs and ham, I was putting my best friend into the ground.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered for lack of anything better.

He took the photo with a gentleness that broke her heart and tucked it back into the desk. The drawer was closed.

He turned, face set with a severity that erased any softness he may have ever possessed.

“What will it be?”

She chose her words carefully. “I’m sorry about what happened to your sister. I’m so sorry. I’ve never had siblings so I can’t imagine...” She lowered her chin. “If I ever lost my parents ... I ... I know I wouldn’t be able to stand it.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I know there is nothing I can say to take back what happened to you, to Annie—”

“Don’t say her name. Don’t ever say her name. You don’t have that right.”

It was said so softly, yet each word sliced like knives.

Cora dropped her gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s not your apology I want.”

Carefully, she edged out of her seat and stood before him. She splayed her fingers.

“I can’t change what happened. Keeping me here, wanting to marry me, it’s insane. You don’t want to marry me. I’d make a really bad wife. I can’t cook. I can’t throw dinner parties. I can’t ... I don’t even know what a wife’s supposed to do.”

“That’s not the kind of wife I’m looking for.”

He circled to his seat and sat. Without his looming presence, she could almost breathe again.

“Well, any kind. I haven’t had a relationship for more than a few weeks, and not from lack of trying on my part. Men ... men leave me. There’s something wrong with me. Maybe it’s because of who my father is, or maybe I’m just not enough, but they don’t stay. Ever.”

Something shifted in his eyes, something small and subtle, something she would have missed if she hadn’t been forcing herself not to look away.

“You’re enough.”

He didn’t mean it the way she’d always wanted to hear, but those two simple, little words lodged themselves in her throat. They clouded her vision for just a second before she blinked back the moisture and turned her chin away.

“My point is—”

“I know what your point is,” he interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make any difference. I will marry you.”

“Why?” She clutched at the back of her abandoned chair. “You don’t even know me. Why would you want...?” That was when it hit her. His reason. The drive behind the madness. “You’re using me to get to my father.”

He didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

He simply stared at her with all the answer she needed.

Somehow, out of all her past relationships, out of all the hurtful things they’d done to her, the things they’d said to push her away, this ... this moment, his silence, his demand was the worst. She’d had boyfriends use her to get to her father, used her to gain power, respect, money, but none had ever offered her marriage first. It was the lowest form of betrayal, which was ridiculous, because she never cared about James.

“No,” she whispered. “No deal.” She set her jaw tight when her voice wavered. “I won’t let you use me to hurt my father. I won’t be the catalyst you use to murder one of the only people I love more than anything in this world. Thank you for dinner, Captain, but I decline your offer.”

She made it as far as the door when she was grabbed from behind and spun. The momentum sent the room spinning in a blur of colors. Her hair whipped out in a dark fan and slapped her across the face, masking the man driving her backwards until she hit something solid. She barely had time to gasp. All she could focus on was the man bearing down on her with the denial of an angry bear.

“We’re not done,” he growled into her ear, his body a solid sheet of heat crushing her into the door. “Everything you’ve endured so far has been a vacation compared to what could happen to you if you leave this room.”

“I don’t care what you do to me, I won’t let you hurt my father.”

“But you will care.” His voice lowered to a hypnotic purr that rippled down her spine in a thick, honey glide she hated herself for wanting more of. “Every night when you open yourself to me and welcome me into your bed, you will care. You will hate yourself for the way I will make you feel, but each night, you’ll beg me to do it again.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

He drew back. His face was a storm of emotions, mostly anger, but there was no missing the hunger.

The thirst.

The challenge.

“You would choose to be my whore rather than marry me?”

She winced at the term, but kept her chin defiantly tilted. “I choose it over letting you anywhere near my family. I would put myself before them no matter what you do, no matter what you make me do.”

His head bent to one side, his expression thoughtful. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe, but you would do the same. I know you would.”

“Would I?” he mused quietly, like he was asking himself the same question.

“Wouldn’t you?” she countered, oddly breathless. “If you could take A...” She stopped herself before Annie’s name could pass her lips. “If you could switch places with your sister, wouldn’t you?”

Thunderclouds clapped over his face, a vicious turmoil of guilt and hatred that tightened the hold he had on her arms, cutting scarlet bracelets into flesh.

“Then you know I would never let you hurt my family,” she finished so softly, even she had trouble hearing herself over the pounding of her heart. “Use me. Hurt me. I don’t care. I’ll take my father’s place. I’ll take it, everything you have. I’ll take his punishment for him.”

His lips curled back over his teeth. “You stupid little girl.” He gave her a hard shake that made her teeth clack together. “You have no idea of the things I can do to you.”

“Do it!” she wheezed, trembling so hard she could barely get the words out. “James...” Her voice caught, but she held his gaze, unwavering, unflinching. “Let me.”

With a snarl, he shoved away from her. The unexpected momentum sent Cora into the wall, but she never felt it, too lost studying the man staring at her with chaos mirroring her own. He stood a short distance, chest heaving as hard as hers. His arms hung at his sides, fingers balled tight enough to crack knuckles. 

“I’m going to hurt you.”

Her heart clapped in her chest, hard. Too hard. It hurt.

“It’s okay.”

His nostrils flared. His eyes flashed.

“I’m going to destroy you.”

“I know.”

“Stupid.” His lips twitched with distaste. “So fucking stupid.”

She said nothing.

“Say it.” He took a single step forward, but forced himself to stop. “I want to hear the word, the fucking word that will damn you for the rest of your life. I want to hear you willingly submit yourself to me, to become my playground, my personal toy. My pet. Say it.”

She shut her eyes, her stomach threatening to revolt all over again.

“No!”

His vicious snarl snapped them open. His arm shot out. His fingers cut strips into her chin when he yanked her to him, ignoring her whimper of pain.

“Look at me,” he growled, wrenching her head back as far as it would go so she had no choice but to look up at him. “I want to see it in your eyes. I want to see the moment you realize your life is over.”

“James...”

“Say it.”

A tear slipped the corner of her eye. It formed a trail down the side of her cheek and stopped where his fingers dug into her cheek.

“Please.”

The hand vanished.

His heat vanished

He released her so unexpectedly, Cora nearly found herself a heap on the ground.

“Get on your knees.”

The hand that had been holding her moments ago, dropped to the fastens on his pants. They were torn open and forced down just enough to release his cock. It sprung free, heavy and already hard. His eyes never left hers.

Their challenge clear — this was her test.

It’s what you wanted, she told herself. This is what you asked for, to be his toy.

To be used.

To be humiliated.

To be his.

She no longer had any say in her own worth. No power to back down. With only a single word, she had forfeited all her rights to being human. She’d become an object.

A toy.

That was what he’d called her.

His toy.

His playground.

She was a thing for his pleasure.

“Now, Cora.”

She was taking too long. But she couldn’t get her knees to bend. She couldn’t get her feet to move. She was frozen.

“James...”

Rather than respond to the terror vibrating in her voice, he closed a fist around his erection. Despite the size of his hand, his cock was still longer, a thick, heavy appendage waiting for her. Its fat head glistened, and he smeared the sheen down the shaft with a single stroke.

“You’ve given up your rights to say no,” he reminded her silkily. “You asked for this. Now, come.”

Trembling, she dragged her foot a step. It was shaky, but it propelled the rest of her forward. She dropped hard to her knees once she was close enough. Her slender fingers replaced his thicker ones around the shaft bobbing inches from her face.

It felt hot to the touch, smooth and hard with just the slightest inward curve. It had been a long time since she’d seen a man’s penis, longer still since she’d actually held one, but his already felt nothing like the others.

The girth was larger. The length longer. Not grotesquely, but the kind every woman secretly longed for. Under different circumstances, she may have done this willingly. She would have done a lot more.

She licked her lips once and leaned in.

The salty tang hit her tongue first. It trickled from the slit at the top of the bulbous head and coated her lips. She suckled lightly, oddly liking the taste of it ... of him.

The man above her grunted. The only encouragement she got to keep going.

She took him in with a slow descend. She kept her lips firm and securely tucked over her teeth, hollowing her cheeks with every upward suck. Her fingers followed the rise and fall with purpose, jerking him off in time with her rhythm. Her free hand snaked into the V of his cargos and cupped his balls. Their heavy weight settled in her palm, soft with just a sprinkling of hair that tickled.

She squeezed.

“Fuck!”

Shivering at the sliver of triumph rippling down her spine, she did it again, harder. Enough to have his nostrils flare and fire darken his eyes. Beneath her grip, the veins along his cock throbbed, a frantic beat matching his increased pants.

Without breaking eye contact, she took him deeper, guiding his head to the very back of her throat. Her lips suctioned around his base. Her nose touched his pelvis.

“Jesus! Cora...”

His hand fell on her head. It dragged down to close in her hair. Tight. Strands were unrooted as he kept her there. His hips bucked, wildly, unhampered as he fucked her mouth. As he took everything he wanted from her with unleashed desire.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. It had been a while since she’d gone that extra mile for a man, but never like that. It was worth it to hear his low, guttural moans, to feel him tremble, and knowing she was the cause. It was heady and delicious in a way she’d never experienced before. It made her want to keep him there until he begged, until he was a blubbering mess, because if she was going to be his whore and he was going to use her as one in exchange for her father’s life, she’d be the best fucking whore he’d ever fucking had.

“Swallow!” was all the warning he gave her before his balls tightened.

She had just enough time to clamp down when he gave a vicious snarl and spilled hot, sticky come down her throat. Ropes of it until she was sure she’d drown. But she swallowed it. All of it and cleaned him after with her tongue. She gave the head a final little suck for whatever was left, earning herself a growl from him before she drew back. She dislodged and licked her lips, and tasted him there.

The hand in her hair unfurled. It slipped around to close around her chin. Her face was tugged up.

At that angle, kneeling at his feet, it was a long tilt of her neck before she could properly see his face.

His features were dark, violent. Sexy as fuck.

“I want to kill every bastard you’ve ever done that for.” He skimmed the pad of his thumb over her swollen lips. “I want skin them all alive.”

“I’ve never done that for anyone,” she whispered.

His eyes flashed, the silver churning like rolling thunderclouds. “Get up.”

She pushed off the carpet and stood before him.

That was as far as they got when the door swung open and Nicholas stormed in without knocking. He ignored the flaccid cock still hanging out of James’s pants by focusing solely on the Captain’s face.

“De Marco’s on the radio.”

At the mention of her father, Cora stiffened. Her heart rocketed up into her throat and lodged there, a peach pit choking her. Her gaze darted up to find James studying her. His expression no longer wielded the untamed beast whose only purpose was to devour her. There was barely suppressed disdain and anger there now, repulsion even if she had to look closely. It wasn’t the sort of look any woman wanted to see on the face of the man who, two seconds earlier had come in her mouth.

“Tell him there was a mistake.” He never batted an eye when she sucked in an anguished breath. “Fuel up and set us back on course.”

The words crushed her. She could almost feel the cracks in her ribs as each one formed a band and squeezed until she was sure she was going to die on the spot.

It was deliberate. His cruelty was just another show of his power over her. It was the thing she’d feared when she’d been trying so hard not to show her excitement. She had known he would use it to hurt her.

He was nothing but a blurry outline behind a wall of tears she couldn’t stop. No amount of biting down on her lip or digging her nails into her palms could keep them from falling.

“Take her back to her room. I’m done with her for tonight.” The statement was followed by the deliberate tug of his zipper beind drawn up.

The mortification was paralyzing. Never in all her life had any man ever belittled her with such simplicity.

No man had ever made her feel so cheap.

So dirty.

The insult was a deep gash across her pride.

She couldn’t even stomach the sight of him.

The triumph in his eyes.

It was just too much to contain, to control.

Raw, blinding, unstoppable rage fueled the monster that momentarily took over. She lost all restraint to her senses. She was no longer even in her own body when she drew back one arm and let it swing with the full weight of her strength. The crack resounded through the room with the brittle clap of thunder. The wrath behind it snapped his whole head to one side.

The burn in her palm was over shadowed by the horror of her actions. The realization was enough to send her back a full step. She stared numbly as his head turned slowly back in her direction. His gaze met hers, met her fire with his crippling chill. The steel in his eyes seemed brighter next to the vicious, red welt of her handprint.

“Leave. Now.”

He could have struck her back for the fear that flooded like ice water through her veins. The warning laced his terrifying calm with serrated daggers that left no doubt in her mind that she’d just royally fucked herself.

“I ... I’m sorry—”

“Now!”

With a frightened gasp, she darted past Nicholas and out the door. She didn’t stop until she’d tumbled down the iron stairs to her basement cell.

She shut herself inside.