Page 73 of Vow of Vengeance
Soren
Vin'shandsonmyshoulders are working magic, chasing away the tension that's been lingering all day. They're also chasing chills down my body, my nipples pebbling beneath the slinky fabric of my sheer nightie. I'm aching for him to touch me lower, to try and ease some of the need coiled deep in my womb.
Trying to conceive made me want to have sex often, to increase our chances. But now that I'm actually pregnant, I've been craving his touch, his affection, his cock.
I know he isn't attracted to me right now.
He warned me long ago that he doesn't understand why, but he's grossed out by the thought of doing anything while I'm pregnant, despite my attempts to explain that the anatomy doesn't work the way he seems to think it does.
Maybe because I know he doesn't want me, I've wanted him more. I'm worried that he'll need to find someone to meet his needs by the time I have the baby. Nine months is a long time to go without sex, and then I'll have to add another six weeks for recovery after that. Will he really be able to wait all that time?
And yet, tonight he seems more attracted to me than he has in months, his breath heavy on my neck, his lips pressing kisses there in between massaging me. I came home to him having made dinner, drawn up a bath for me, and now this.
It's blissful, and I can feel the luxury lulling me into the arms of sleep as he eases the discomfort. My eyes flutter a few times, and I do my best to stay awake, because I know if I don't, this intimacy will splinter, and I don't know when we'll get it back.
The doorbell ringing pulls my eyes open, but it takes me a moment to realize exactly what it was. Vin pauses with his hands on my shoulders, like he's also wondering whether he heard that. And then the doorbell chimes again, assuring us of what it is.
I don't know what time it is, but it seems too late for visitors.
I groan as he slides out from behind me.
"I'll be right back." He assures me with an easy grin. "Drink your water."
I smile back at him, appreciating this sudden nurturing side of my husband. Vin's typically all man, not the kind of guy who thinks about making sure his wife stays hydrated. He usually prefers me after a glass of wine, but as that's a no-go now that there's a baby to consider, he's had to deal with me being sharper.
The meds I've been on for the last two years since my first episode, I had to give up. Withdrawing from them has been less than enjoyable. Everything feels too sharp and raw all the time, something I'm told could very well just be the hormones. It's left me more on edge than ever before, as I walk around feeling like there's a rain cloud over my head waiting to burst open.
I drink my water, just as he says, and feel my eyes getting heavier again, the world getting quiet as sleep tries to pull me under.
Pregnancy is exhausting, especially for someone with chronic exhaustion to begin with. But I'm stubborn if nothing else, so I stand, deciding to stretch my legs and try to wake myself up.
When I move to the steps, I brace a hand against the wall to make sure I don't trip in my tiredness.
Vin stands at the front door, which is wide open. But he's not alone. Another man stands there, dressed all in black, a ski mask pulled over his face.
I blink, trying to decide what's happening. It takes a moment for the sleepy feeling to wane as alarm bells ring somewhere in the back of my mind.
It's March in Chicago. It's cold, sure, but not quite cold enough for that attire.
"Vin?"
His name feels strange on my tongue, which seems too heavy.
I don’t feel right.
The word draws the attention of both figures at the bottom of the step, and when the eyes behind that ski mask connect with mine, something in my stomach tells me to run.
Half a second after I have the thought, he lunges toward me, scrambling up the steps at an impossible pace.
I do run, terror leeching through my bones. It pushes away the fog as adrenaline spurs me back the way I came from, back up the three steps I've already taken. Still, terror makes my brain feel fuzzy, and my motions aren't coordinated.
I'm on the top step when a hand wraps around my ankle, attempting to yank me backward, to drag me toward him. Something tells me if he gets hold of me, I'm going to die tonight, so I use all of the energy I can muster to kick out at him.
My foot connects with something, and it's enough that he loses his grip on me just long enough for me to slide out from him.
I dart for my bedroom, where my phone is still on the nightstand.
I've just burst through the doorframe, grabbing the door to try and slam it shut behind me, when he forces his way through it.
