Page 2 of Cruel Dominion

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“I can’t go home, either. Might as well be miserable together.”

Her jaw clenched, holding back what I thought might be the smallest of grins.

It should’ve felt awkward. Sitting alone with a sad stranger on the beach in the middle of the night. But somehow, it didn’t. The darkness provided a sort of anonymity that sunlight couldn’t. Non-judgmental.

“Tell me something,” she said after a few beats of silence, her watching the sea, me watching her. Considering whether she was real or if the shot to the face I’d taken from my pops earlier had dislodged something in my brain.

“What?”

She shrugged, propping her chin onto her crossed forearms. “Just tell me something,” she repeated. “Something real. Why are you on the beach at two in the morning?”

“Why are you?” I countered.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me. A secret for a secret.”

I worked my jaw, thinking.

“Whatever you tell me, it won’t leave this beach. And you’ll never have to see me again.”

It dawned on me that she had something she wanted to tell someone. Something she needed to say aloud that could also never leave this beach.

“What’s your name?” I asked on a whim.

She pursed her lips.

“Tell me and I’ll play your game. Whatever you say will never leave this beach, either.”

“Anna,” she said decisively after a minute, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made my cock thicken in my jeans. “Anna Vaughn.”

“I’m Carter,” I told her, inhaling deeply before I continued. “And my dad beats the shit out of me when he’s drunk. That’s why I’m out here. If I stayed to let him hit me one more time I might’ve…”

A shaky breath passed my lips.

I couldn’t finish the sentence, but Anna didn’t push me. Her gaze dropped and she said nothing. No words of pity. No apology. Just a small nod to show that she heard me and a slight tightening around her jaw.

“Your turn.”

“My father has been siphoning money from the charity he built. I found out and confronted him about it…it didn’t go well.”

“Dads…” I said, snorting.

Her lips tightened, face puckering in a failed attempt to hold in a laugh. It burst from her, the sound mingling with the wind and the waves to make the perfect song.

“Dads,” she echoed, still laughing, wiping a tear from her cheek with her knuckle.

“Fuck ’em,” I said with a shrug, a wide grin on my own face now, too.

She had an amazing laugh.

“Yeah,” she agreed, psyching herself up before she repeated my crude words, her cheeks pink. “Fuck ’em.”

I knew right then. If Anna Vaughn was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, I’d gleefully accept my insanity and commit myself to the institution of her for the rest of my miserable fucking life.

1

ANNA

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