Page 56 of Hunted By Valentine

“It wasn’t a damn suggestion,” he snaps.

Since there’s no black car waiting to take me home, I agree. At least I won’t have to wait for a taxi by myself.

Chapter 22

The Prey

The distant chime of the grandfather clock sounds entirely too loud as I slip through the front door, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent house.

My footsteps echo in the empty hallway, each click of my heels on the marble floor making my heart pound louder. It’s late, so much later than I realized, and the thought of waking Michael sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no way to explain my missing pants that I left in the bar’s bathroom after Valentine ruined them.

My breath comes in short, sharp gasps as I slip inside the bedroom, intending to quickly grab something representing nighttime wear so it looks like I’ve been home for hours. As soon as I have one of my negligees between my fingers, I sneak back out, the heavy door clicking softly shut behind me.

I stop for a moment, listening for any signs of movements, any indication that I’ve disturbed Michael’s sleep, but the room remains still and silent.

With a sigh of relief, I make my way to my bathroom, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of my coat as I go. I need to erase every trace of Valentine from my skin, every lingering scent that might give me away.

As soon as I’m inside the bathroom, I lock the door behind me and switch the shower on. It hisses to life, and within seconds, steam billows out and envelops me as I drop my bag to the floor and undress at record speed. Then I move under the scalding spray, welcoming the way the heat stings my skin.

I scrub my body, my hands shaking as I try to wash away any evidence of what I’ve been up to. The soap slips from my grasp, landing with a splash on the tiled floor, and I bend to retrieve it, careful not to get my hair wet.

Once I’m done, I reach for the towel, my movements frantic as I try to dry myself off. My eyes catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, the image distorted by the steam and the water cascading down the glass. But I still see it…

The sight of my shoulder sends a fresh jolt of arousal through me; the bite mark. When Valentine made me come, he bit me. I don’t know why it didn’t register until now that it was hard enough to leave a mark, and now the evidence mars my porcelain skin.

As much as I want to keep staring at it, I can’t. I need to cover it up so Michael doesn’t see. I don’t want him knowing what I’ve done—that’s between Valentine and me.

My hands tremble as I attempt to cover the mark with foundation, my fingers clumsy and shaking. It’s a futile effort, the makeup smearing and streaking across my skin, a grotesque parody of the elegant woman I once was.

Suddenly, the sound of the bathroom door being kicked open reverberates through the room, the wood splintering and cracking under the force. I scream, a raw, primal sound that tears from my throat, my body freezing in terror as the steam swirls around me, thick and suffocating.

Michael’s voice cuts through the air, a cold, cruel sneer that sends a chill down my spine. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing only coming home now?” His footsteps echo through the bathroom, heavy and menacing, as he stalks toward me.

I stand frozen, my heart pounding in my chest, as the foggy glass of the mirror reflects the monster that haunts my life. Michael’s cold, unforgiving gaze meets mine, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as they flick to the bite mark on my shoulder. Rage builds inside him, a dark, twisted storm that threatens to consume me.

But I won’t let it. I won’t let him win.

I try to run past him, but Michael is too fast, his hands closing around my arms as he drags me to his side, his fingers digging into my flesh like talons.

I scream, the sound echoing through the bathroom as I struggle against him, my desperate attempts to break free futile against his strength. The fear and pain consume me, a dark, suffocating wave that threatens to pull me under.

As Michael’s grip tightens, his fingers leaving bruises on my skin, I know that I’m running out of time. I need to find a way to escape, to break free from the nightmare that has become my life. And as I look into his cold, unforgiving eyes, I see the terrifying truth.

I’m not just fighting for my freedom. I’m fighting for my life.

Michael gives me a toothy smile that I know all too well; it’s the one he always shows just before he’s about to punish me.

“Well, wife,” he sneers. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I-I…” My voice trembles so much it’s almost impossible to speak.

With a swift movement, he tears the towel from my body. Then he runs a finger across the bite mark. “And who the fuck have you let touch you?”

“N-no one,” I stutter, determined not to sayhisname. “I-it was an a-accident.” My teeth chatter so badly I have to bite the inside of my cheek to make it stop.

Michael lets out a cruel mockery of a laugh and backhands me so hard I fall to the floor with a scream. Fear and fury ignite within me as he kicks my thighs.

“Michael!” I scream.

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