Page 75 of Tempest

“All right,” the serious one cuts in. I track his movements to stand between Tempest and me. “I got her. I’ll get her home safe.”

The one with a death wish adds, “Did you get all you need from her? Sadly we weren’t allowed to watch.”

Relief lightens my chest at the confirmation that it was only Tempest and me, and there weren’t cameras pointed at us or peepholes the guys could jerk off through.

“Not quite,” Tempest answers curtly, “but it’s enough for now.”

“Interesting,” the jokester croons.

“Touch her and die,” Tempest reminds him. “You. Take her out of here.”

“Got it.”

A hand clamps down on my arm, and Tempest snarls. “With this.”

“Oh.”

There’s a jangle, then the distinctive scent of leather as a belt is looped around my neck.

“I like this,” the jokester says.

The more he talks, the more recognizable his voice becomes. I tilt my ear through the fabric in an attempt to jar the memory loose.

“Take it all in, asshole, because this is the most action you’ll get from her,” Tempest says.

“Yeah, yeah.”

I’m jerked forward, Tempest’s belt transforming into a leash, just as he promised. Sadly, it’s not him tugging me up the stairs, through another floor, and out into the forest. I try to impart the different scents to memory and the unique sounds. Anything to guide me back to a place where everything changed.

The man leading me doesn’t say a word during our trek but gently touches the backs of my knees to guide me over rocks and other debris. His guidance isn’t as brutal as Tempest’s would’ve been, and for some reason, I’m disappointed by it.

We come to an abrupt stop. The sack is pulled off my head from behind and I’m pushed forward through a clearing, disoriented and gasping.

Enough instinct remains for me to spin around and try to catch the face of the man who pulled me through the trees. Still, nothing remains except dark clusters of shadows, made jagged and sinister by bare branches and drying leaves.

I spin on my heel, steady and sure, and see Camden House up ahead. Its multiple casement windows emit soft golden light into what I now consider a haunted forest.

And not by witches.

On a sigh, I begin my short walk to the front door. Now that my sight has returned, my other senses have dulled, all except for one. Feeling.

The throbbing between my legs intensified with my stumble through the trees. It’s uncomfortable and obvious what’s been done to me—that this time when I was abducted, my greatest fear has come true. I was kidnapped and raped.

Except I wasn’t. Tempest dropped me in the middle of one of my most traumatizing experiences and reshaped it into a twisted dream.

Tempest has been a fantasy of mine since I was a little girl. My kidnappers are a recurring nightmare of mine since I was ten. Combining the two has given me a sense of bravery. Of control.

I sneak into my room without much sound, finding Clover snoozing in her twin bed, facing the wall with her hands tucked under her chin. I’m eager to do the same.

Two reflective glints of yellow on my bed catch my eye. My shoulders tense, fear fusing my limbs together. What has Tempest left for me, now?

A small meow comes from the same direction. My knees nearly buckle at the sound.

“Hermione!” I whisper, running to the edge of my bed and collapsing in front of her. “You’re here. You’re okay!”

She purrs into my hand, her belly turning into a motor boat of pleasure. My heart swells at the feel of her soft fur, alive and unharmed. This was the one unforgivable move Tempest could’ve made, and he didn’t do it. He didn’t kill my baby.

Burying my face in Hermione’s fur, I let her catch my tears. How is it possible to be thankful, scared, and horny, all for one man? How is Tempest able to manipulate emotions so damned well?

There’s more to Anderton Cottage than a history of witches. Tempest uses that basement for something other than what he did to me tonight. He made it clear who was in charge down there. Him. But I’m too tired to ruminate on it, choosing to catalog it for later and sleep on it instead.

After washing up, I slip into my cool sheets, wishing for the heat of Tempest’s exhales between my legs again. Hermione curls up against the backs of my legs.

For the first time in almost ten years, I fall asleep without any nightmares chasing me awake.

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