Page 28 of A Vow to Set the Virgin Free

It was the reason he didn’t leave this place. It was the reason he only spoke to her over the intercom.

“I...” she tried again.

“Leave,” he said, flinging her back, releasing his hold on her.

“Cameron, please...”

“I said, get out!” And he turned over the table with the video screens on it, they went crashing to the ground. “Do you think I’m serious yet?”

Fear overtook her then. Because he was a beastly sight. Hardly a man. But it wasn’t the scarring.

It was the rage. Red and violent, terrifying.

“Out!”

She fled down the stairs. And out the door.

She ran. Ran to the fields, ran through the grass until she couldn’t breathe. She knew exactly where she was going.

To the wall. To the weakness in the wall.

She couldn’t stay. Not with him. Not like this.

That man couldn’t be reasoned with. And she would not ever put herself in danger. She was not a prisoner.

She told herself that. Repeated it over and over again as she scrambled over the fields, making herself breathless, fear and desperation dogging her every step.

When she came to that spot in the wall, she scrambled up, climbing over the top and flinging herself down to the ground below. She kept on running. Running and running.

Only to come to the edge of a cliff. Overlooking the sea. The sea was this close? And he said he hadn’t seen the sea in years...

And then she heard a sound.

A growling.

She looked up, to the left and saw a dog. Feral and skinny, his lip curled. He was a huge, rangy hound, and fear shivered through her as she stood and faced him down.

“Don’t... I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not...” She took a step back, the water behind her, the animal in front.

And then she heard a sound. The pounding of hoofbeats, and the dog heard it too. He paused and looked up, behind them, his muzzle still a snarl, his body still oriented toward her, ready to pounce.

But it was Cameron. On the back of a black horse. Riding with his cloak billowing behind him. “Athena!”

The dog turned away from her, looking at him.

He jumped off the horse and ran toward her, but the dog leapt at him, clamping its jaws around his forearm. Cameron growled, and shook his arm violently, the beast flying away from him. But crimson red bled through the fabric of Cameron’s shirt.

She gasped in horror. “Cameron...”

He was not a monster.

He bled.

He was bleeding now because of her.

She felt slapped, confronted with the consequences of her actions.

And overcome by his presence. So grateful she wanted to weep.

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