Page 21 of Marked for Obsession

She turned quickly, nearly spilling the water in the process, only to discover she was still alone. Inwardly cursing at her overactive imagination, Poppy gave up on the idea of going back to bed.

Carrying the drink with her, she left the kitchen with the intent of getting dressed and going to the gym. Exercise had always helped to clear her mind, so with any luck, a few miles on the treadmill would make it possible to finally get some sleep.

Poppy stepped into her bedroom and headed for her dresser. She’d just started to set her glass down onto the smooth wooden top when the floor creaked from somewhere behind her.

Spinning around, horror shot through her veins as she came face to face with a masked man.

Oh, my god!

Vocal cords frozen with fear, her forgotten drink slipped from her fingers.

The cheap glass shattered as it landed on the floor below. Sharp shards flew in every direction, a flash of pain skimming across her shin as a piece of glass sliced through her and water splattered atop Poppy’s bare feet and the wood beneath them.

Run, Poppy! Get your ass in gear and freakingrun!

Poppy got her ass in gear, and she freaking ran.

Ignoring the stinging in her soles, she took off down the hallway in a dead sprint. She slipped on something wet, her hand flying out to the wall beside her to keep from falling, and it was only then that she realized she was bleeding.

But when she heard the intruder’s boots hitting the floor as he gave chase, she didn’t dare stop.

Poppy made it to the living room. The apartment’s door was just a few feet away. She was going to make it. Shehadto make it!

Almost to the door, she pushed herself those final, precious steps. Reaching for the knob, she attempted to turn it as she pulled.

Nothing happened.

Hands trembling with terror, Poppy rushed to turn the lock on the knob. Turning it, she pulled again, but still the door refused to open.

Her eyes flew to the deadbolt, her heart sinking into her stomach when she found it secured. In the back of her mind, it registered that the man had either re-locked the door after breaking into her apartment, or he’d entered her residence another way.

Sparing a quick glance from over her shoulder, panic ensued when she saw the intruder closing in. The sound of her speeding pulse filled her ears as she reached for the deadbolt.

Her fingers fumbled in their attempt to disengage. Finally getting a firm grip, the metal thumbturn had just begun to move beneath her shaking grasp when fire erupted along the back of her scalp.

Poppy screamed. Doing her best to ignore the scorching pain, her hands instinctively went to where the man had fisted her thick hair. Doing everything she could think of to fight him off, she dug her fingernails into his skin while repeatedly kicking at his legs.

The man grunted as her bare heel made contact with his shin, but his hold on her never wavered. Giving up in her efforts to loosen his grip, she released his hands and began throwing her elbows back into his ribs as hard as she could.

Several grunts later, her attacker growled out a low, “Bitch!” as he forcefully let go of her hair.

Poppy was only free for a moment before the man grabbed her shoulders and spun her around so that she was facing him. A set of dark, menacing eyes turned her blood to ice as he stared down at her from behind the ski mask.

A second later, his fist was flying toward her face.

Pain erupted along the left side of Poppy’s face, the force of the blow sending her flying off her feet and into the small accent table positioned near the door. Arms flailing, she knocked over the decorative lamp there, its ceramic base splintering into a million pieces upon impact.

Poppy hit the floor with a hard thud. She moaned, her head spinning uncontrollably from having been struck. Blinking, she rolled to her side in an attempt to push herself to her feet.

She managed to make it to her knees when she felt the sole of the man’s large boot against the center of her back. Pushing her back down, Poppy grunted as she fell face-first onto the floor.

“Enough!” Her attacker yelled. “No use fighting the inevitable.”

The inevitable.

What did that mean? Was this man planning to rape her? Kill her?

Please, God. I don’t want to die.

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