Page 54 of Lovely Violent Things

“Don’t do that,” he warns. Movements fast, he locks his hands around my wrists and pins my forearms to my chest. “We’re just having a casual conversation. You like that, it seems. Being casual with colleagues.”

The fight within me stops instantly. He’s physically larger and stronger than me. I can’t fight him. I reserve my energy, taking slow, measured breaths to control my spiking heart rate.

“Don’t worry,” he says, breath hot against my cheek. “I deleted the footage from the department system. I have the only copy.”

Not a favor.

Blackmail.

It’s true that for most people in law enforcement, they go into the field because of their desire to help others, the need to do good. But then there are those who gravitate to the field because they crave power, control, dominance. Ironically, the very same characteristics as rapists.

Having a badge does not elevate you above human nature.

Right now, Alister is looking at me like I’m an insubordinate nuisance to be dominated.

He wants to show me how much stronger he is than me, to punish me for his failure.

Adrenaline pours into my bloodstream. The caverns of my heart ache in pulsing fury. Fight or flight ricochets through my body.

My muscles tense against his hold as he lewdly thrusts his erection into my belly.

“I know you like this.” He releases one of my wrists so he can track his hand down to my ass. My stomach roils. “The same way you like to cause ripples on the task force…at press conferences. You just love being a bad girl.”

I swallow down the thick bile coating my throat. “I suppose the wordnomeans nothing to you.”

Eyes pitched dark, he smiles. “Not when you’re walking around my office with no panties.” Hostility edges his words. “You’re a fucking tease, Halen, and I’m itching to work off some steam from being made to look like a fucking fool during the meeting.”

His hand clamps hard around the nape of my neck, and my fight comes alive.

“You made yourself look like a fool.” I claw at his face, aiming for his eyes. My nails rake across his cheek.

A roar tears free of his throat before he hauls me forward. Hands banded around my neck, he twists me and shoves my chest down against the desk. I swipe at the contents, knocking the laptop and objects to the floor. I grasp for the Glock in the harness just out of reach. I kick out, my foot landing a solid strike to his stomach—but it’s not enough to fight him off.

Obscenities fall from Alister’s mouth as he reaches underneath for the clasp of my jeans and rips the snap open. His forearm braced across my back, he yanks at my jeans, and my heart lurches into my ears. All sound is muted against the roar of my blood. My vision wavers.

The paralyzing fear of being trapped grips me so fiercely, I break through the helpless desperation and lash out against the darkness closing in around me. The smell of crisp fall air raids my senses. The hazy glow of lampposts bleeds into the dark, and I feel hands tighten around my throat.

I scream only to have the sound muffled by a coarse palm sealed over my mouth.

The sensations come on strong. Beyond Alister’s attack, a montage of violence flickers across my vision. Unlike the ritual, there’s no comfort from Kallum to chase back the terrifying imagery. A memory is triggered from the depths of my subconscious, and it tears into my soul.

The flashback projects into the current moment as Alister restrains me against the desk, his cruel words slithering around me as he grabs at my clothes.

“This is how you want it, bitch.” The shrill sound of a zipper ripping threads my muscles, fear a living force inside my body. Then a sinister voice rises up from the trenches of my mind.

I’ll show you, bitch.

The two voices overlap, stretching the bounds of my sanity. Before my brain shatters, the weight of Alister’s body is suddenly gone. The racket of a struggle crashes against the ringing in my ears.

Legs trembling, I press my palms to the desk surface and drag in a full breath, then push onto my feet. When I turn to face my attacker, I’m met with the intensity of Kallum’s heated eyes.

It’s only a moment, one suspended second where he confirms I’m all right, then his lethal, sole focus is on the man held in his clenched grip. Kallum shoves Alister’s back against the wall, his fist following in pursuit as he drives inked knuckles into Alister’s face.

Delivered with relentless fury, the blows don’t stop. Kallum unleashes a torrent of strikes on Alister, losing himself in the violence. He is a demon made of wrath, his brutality administered with each enraged drop of his fist. The sickening wet sound of bloody punches infuses the room.

The devious gleam in Kallum’s striking eyes says he’s going to destroy Alister—and he’s going to revel in that destructive carnage.

Kallum throws the agent to the floor, sending a round of kicks to his rib cage, before he straddles his torso and drops his fists in relentless punishment.

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