Page 115 of Devil Mine

Then I hurl the award at him as hard as I can.

My aim is true and the triangular trophy hits him in the head as I’d planned. Instead of knocking him out it only momentarily stuns him. I run past him but he recovers quickly. His arm stretches out and easily catches me around the waist, yanking me back against his torso. Dread leadens my stomach at my failed escape, at the prospect of what he’s going to do to me in retaliation.

“Bitch.”

He slams me violently back against the windows. Stars explode behind my eyes at the force with which my head bounces off the glass.

I’m dazed and more pliant because of it. He pins me by my wrists, his mouth opening to reveal sharp looking teeth and a monstrous smile. I turn my face to the side and whimper. His clammy, fetid breath hits my cheek and it’s all I can do not to pass out, but I won’t have a repeat of last week.

My thoughts fly to Thiago, wishing with all my heart that he could be here to protect me like he did with Leone. I don’t question why he’s the one I think of, I just know it’shimI need.

“You want to piss me off, little girl?” Franklin taunts disdainfully. “I’ll rip through your pussy and make you bleed for that little stunt. Maybe that’ll teach you some obedience.”

“Get off me,” I cry, thrashing violently. “I’m married!”

Before this moment, I would have said I was strong. I go to the gym multiple times a week. I lift weights. My body is toned and in shape. So when I fight against Franklin’s hold, I expect to do some damage. To at least free one of my hands. But in a millisecond and with barely any effort whatsoever, he easily uses his own strength to overpower me and keep me prisoner. My wrists remain trapped above my head, my body prone and exposed to whatever horrors he wants to do to me. The stark realization of how much physically weaker I am than a man as out of shape as he is stops the blood cold in my veins. The abject terror I feel makes me want to freeze in place. I have to fight against my base instincts to try and survive.

“Don’t remind me,” he snarls, slapping a hand over my mouth. “That’s enough out of you.”

I scream and scream but his hand muffles every sound that rips from my throat. My thoughts go once again to Thiago and my heart splits in two. What will he say when he finds out what happened to me? Will he ever be able to touch me again or will he throw me out and divorce me for being damaged goods? The thought alone is painful enough to bring tears to my eyes.

When I feel Franklin’s fingers brush against my thigh beneath my skirt, my eyes bulge. I kick at him, thrashing furiously, but it’s in vain. His hand inches higher. His hard length presses into my stomach. I close my eyes even as I continue to try and scream, hoping that I can disassociate from my body and go to another reality.

Franklin’s face comes to within inches of mine. His putrid breath falls against my face. I press my cheek into the window to avoid it.

“From what I’ve heard of him, I don’t think your husband will mind if I have a taste,” he croons.

“Wrong. Her husband is going to fucking kill you for trying,” a terrifying voice announces, slicing through my nightmare with an arrow of hope. I turn my head to find Thiago standing in my doorway, the blackest look of fury I’ve ever seen blanketing his face. “Take your fucking hands off my wife,” he booms. “Now.”

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Chapter Forty-Five

Tess

He’s a sight for desperately sore eyes. The relief I feel when I see him is so powerful that my knees buckle. I feel like I conjured him, like he heard me pleading for him and knew to come save me. For a moment all I do is blink to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. Then, taking advantage of Franklin’s surprise, I shove him off me and stumble away from him, wrapping my arms protectively around myself as I huddle in the corner at a safe distance.

“So you’re the husband,” Franklin says casually, turning and extending his hand towards him. He must be clinically insane. “Franklin Marsh-Sackville.”

Thiago doesn’t blink, his wrathful stare never wavering from Franklin’s face as long seconds tick by. His anger pulses around us like the beat of a heart.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Thiago moves towards the hand that remains outstretched between them and brushes right past it, walking up to me instead.

When his eyes find mine, the unbridled fury in them instantly washes away, replaced by the kind of burning intensity all women dream of seeing in their husband’s gaze. The look in them is borderline manic, like he’s barely holding himself together.

With his mouth set in a grim line and that muscle ticking dangerously in his cheek, Thiago rakes a clinical gaze slowly down my body, inspecting me for any injuries. When he’s satisfied that I bear no visible marks, his eyes lift back up to mine. Hands twitch as they move cautiously from his sides. He speaks and there’s a slight tremor woven into his guttural words that betrays the heavy emotion he’s feeling.

“I’m going to touch you,amor. Is that okay?”

I nod and throw my arms around his neck in the same breath, going to him before he can reach for me himself. His hands wrap tightly around my lower back and he drags me into him with a rough exhale. He crushes me against his chest, cupping the back of my head and burying my face in the crook of his neck. For a moment all I can hear, all I canfeel, is the comforting pulse of his heart beating frantically against my cheek.

Like a fragile bubble bursting, the dam holding back my tears shatters the second I fall into his arms. It starts with one single teardrop squeezing quietly past my lashes and then I’m crying with total abandon, my face hidden in his throat as he holds me. My body shakes uncontrollably with the force of my sobs as the terror and panic of the last fifteen minutes pour messily out of me. Thiago caresses my hair softly, pressing his face against my cheek and humming soothingly. His other arm stays wrapped protectively around my waist like he’s afraid someone will try to rip me away from him. He consoles me patiently, as if we’re alone, as if he has all the time in the world, simply repeatingit’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safeuntil he’s chanting it reassuringly into my ear. There’s a strain in his voice that makes me think those vehement reassurances might be as much for him as they are for me.

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