Page 110 of The Ecstasy of Sin
Dominic. The fight. Dimitri’s promise.
My head aches, and I squeeze my eyes shut, but the memories don’t stop coming. It’s like my brain is waking up, playing catch up with my body.
Serial killer. Danger. Running. The SUV. A scent, sickly sweet. Then Dominic, running, screaming my name.
I groan and lower my head, only for the man who kidnapped me to backhand me across the face. My head snaps to the side, pain settling into the bone of my jaw. I know my lip is split when the metallic taste of blood flows into my mouth.
He strikes me again in the stomach with a closed fist, and the wind rushes out of me as pain flares bright.
I open my mouth, working it until it pops, trying to relieve the pressure.
The man leans in closer, his breath rancid. “Fuck, I hate women,” he spits, his jaw clenched. “Weak and pathetic. Good for nothing but taking cock. Dimitri should have let me shoot you the second we got here.”
I stare at him, and for a moment I imagine smashing my forehead into his. I’m not the type to resort to violence, but the urge comes from somewhere deep down in my soul.
He’s not going to kill me without a fight.
“Dimitri is going to be on his way soon,” he mutters, “and he’s going to have fun with you. He likes to fuck women with knives and listen to them scream.”
His hand lashes out to grab my jaw, bringing our faces inches apart. “That doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you first though,” he sneers.
I’d rather die.
I narrow my eyes, and spit directly in his face. He flinches, his expression turning murderous.
“You stupid fucking cunt,” he snarls, before cracking his fist across my face. He hits me so hard I rock back, the chair I’m sitting in toppling over. My head hits the ground, and my vision darkens.
Next thing I know, I’m being hauled upright again. My stomach lurches and my head swims, my head throbbing viciously.
He starts pacing in front of me, his breathing ragged like he’s pissed off, pulling out his phone and typing a message furiously.
I breathe through my nose, deep and even, and take inventory of my body. I start with my aching head, then bring the awareness down to my wrists. They’re tied behind my back and secured to the chair. I flex my fingers, testing the strength of the scratchy rope. Then I keep going.
Turns out, my wrists are the only part of me that he anchored down. My feet aren’t tied up, and I shuffle them to be certain. The movements are subtle, and small enough to avoid drawing his attention.
He shoves his phone back into his pocket and steps up to me, the back of his hand shooting out to strike me across the cheek. The skin at my cheekbone splits, blood trickling down.
Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, and they sting with the salt of my frustration and grief.
The regret of leaving Dom’s bed haunts me with every breath. I wish I had the chance to thank him for making me feel seen, and cherished for the first time since I was a child.
He made me feel human in a world that all but stripped my humanity away.
Dominic tried to give me a home, when all I had was wreckage.
And I tried to throw it away. Now look at me; crying and bleeding as I await a different monster who will take itallaway.
My tears are no longer silent, and I hate that. I turn my face away from him and cry.
“Fuck your tears, you stupid whore. I’ll fuck you until Dimitri lets me put a bullet between your eyes.” He spits the wordwhorelike a curse, foul and dehumanizing.
The rise of panic has my body tensing. His grimy hands reach out for my shirt, gripping the neckline and yanking it violently until the material tears.
A sob escapes before I can stop it, and he jerks me closer, the chair scraping across the floor with a screech.
His odour makes me gag. A noxious combination of body sweat, cigarette smoke, and cheap booze.
When he leans in closer, I try to pull away. “I hope you like pain,” he breathes. “I’m an ass man.”
