Page 39 of Vengeful Union

LARA

I pacearound the room after finally composing myself. I’m starving since I’ve had nothing but sandwiches since I’ve been taken.

But my stomach also feels sick. I know this isn’t the right thing to do, to marry for revenge and safety. I want to marry for love, want to marry someone who sets my soul on fire.

Sure, maybe there’s a little chemistry when Rory touches my hand or speaks close to my ear in that deep voice of his, but it’s notreal. It’ll never be real.

I just want to go home.

Since it seems like it’s taking forever for Rory to bring me dinner, I get up and shuck off his clothes, stepping into the wedding dress.

It’s a simple one, one that I probably would have picked for myself. I’m not much on the flouncy, long trains like Paige likes.

I can’t exactly button up the bodice all the way without help, but I look in the full-length mirror in the bathroom and the dress fitsme like a glove. Maybe it’s even a bit too snug around the hips, but it makes me look like I have a little bit of a figure.

I’ve always been stick-straight, so it’s flattering. Normally, trying on a wedding dress is supposed to make you giddy, happy.

I just feel nauseous and anxious. I wish there was any other way to do this.

I take off the dress and carefully put it back in the plastic bag, hanging it up.

Maybe there is another way to do this. Maybe I can escape, now that Rory has taken off my restraints and loosened security. Oscar hadn’t been back around, or any of the men who had taken me.

I walk over to the window of Rory’s room, and although it isn’t painted shut like the one in the left wing, it’s a long drop down into a rose bush. I’ll never make the jump without twisting an ankle or maybe breaking my neck.

I sigh heavily. I’ve already run through nearly every scenario of escape, and it’s just too risky. I put on a robe that I find in the bathroom, cinching it at the waist.

I suddenly feel exhausted, probably because I’ve been on my feet pacing nearly all day. Not to mention the emotional exhaustion of being kidnapped and away from my loved ones.

Still in Rory’s robe, I curl up on the bed, pulling the comforter over my head so that it’s dark and still. I’ve done that since I was a little girl, especially when I was scared.

I’m asleep before I ever realize I’ve closed my eyes.

“There you are, Burke bitch,” a voice croons from the end of the bed.

I bolt upright, trying to scramble out of bed, but it seems that all I can move is my eyes now that I’m sitting up. Everything else feels paralyzed.

I make a low whining noise in the back of my throat as my eyes move around the room. No one. Just shadows. There’s no Scott at the end of the bed. There’s no one at all.

But I can feel thick fingers on my ankles, yanking me toward the edge of the bed. I scream, but no sound comes out.

“Be still, and I won’t hurt you.”

I kick and scream and wiggle, but I’m still paralyzed, just lying there like a ragdoll as he gets closer and closer to me. He covers my body with his, his breath hot against my neck, and my skin starts to crawl.

“Please,” I manage to say, and he grunts, pressing his face into my neck.

My eyes pop open, and I throw off the comforter, hot and terrified. I look up at the ceiling, my breath coming short.

Rory hadn’t been there to save me in my dream, and I’m so glad I woke up before...

A soft knock sounds on the door as I lay there, sweating and panting after the terrible nightmare.

My head feels fuzzy, too heavy, my stomach full of knots.

“Come in,” I call, and Rory walks inside with a big plate that smells incredible and a glass of what appears to be white wine.

I kind of want to kiss him again because I’m so excited about the food and wine.

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