Page 46 of Mind Maze

That’s it. Calm down. I’ve got you.

His free hand grabs onto my hip, fingers biting roughly into me as though he’s anchoring himself to me. I bite back a whimper of pain at the bruising touch. He loosens his hold, sliding his palm to my ass and hauling me closer to him. Our heartbeats are hammering between us. My mind races with a thousand thoughts. I’m sure his does the same.

I stand on my toes and kiss his slightly parted lips. The kiss is gentle and sweet. He allows me to kiss him, offering his tongue here and there, and even a needy grunt.

And then, as if remembering where he is, he turns to stone. I’m no longer kissing a heartbroken, hot-blooded man. Now I’m making out with a statue—cold, unmoving, unbreakable.

He grabs onto my shoulder and forces me a couple of steps away from him. My mouth is still parted and face raw from his scruff. His eyes steal a glance at my mouth, flashing hotly for a second, before the final sheet of ice hides him from me.

“Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he growls, gaze back on his phone as he texts. “Not a fucking word.”

Rejection burns hot through me. “Who would I tell? I don’t exactly have anyone who cares about me around here.”

He tears his stare from his phone, pinning it on me. “You told Gareth.”

The reminder of that man sends a shiver down my spine. My stomach churns violently, making the orange scones sour in my belly. “He made me,” I whisper, voice shaking. “I had no choice.”

“You could have said no.”

“Tell me his big secret,” Gareth demands. “Tell me and this will all be over. I won’t hurt you.”

“No. There is no secret. I swear.”

“Tell me now.”

I did say no. I said no. I. Said. No.

“Caius,” I rasp out, tears prickling my eyes. “You’re being cruel.”

“Cruel?” Caius barks out a cold laugh. “I’m reminding you that you chose to reveal something to Gareth of all people. It could have jeopardized everything I’ve done had I not intervened.”

“I have the power to make this stop.”

“Go to hell.”

“Suit yourself.”

And then pain, pain, pain.

I want it to stop.

“Calista.”

Hateful eyes bore into me with each horrifying thrust. “What’s that?”

“Calista is his secret. Stop. You promised.”

But he doesn’t stop.

I told the truth and he’s a liar.

“That’s not fair,” I say, shakily swiping a tear that races down my cheek. “I was… I was forced to.”

His face is emotionless. No anger or betrayal. Bland and impassive.

“I have to go,” he says without another look my way.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, I sit down on the floor and cry as memories of my rape assault me, nearly as brutal as the physical act itself.

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