Page 25 of Captive Bride

A wise person would know that the risk is just too great.

But his touch.

But the feel of his hands.

I glance across the room to where my fiancé stands. He roams about in all his corrupted glory.

Whatever happened before and whatever comes of it, I can’t just let it go now.

I give my mother my most winning smile. “So when does my dance start?”

It’s enough to distract her. She turns from me, promising my moment is soon to come.

The very thought of the Governor’s hands on me again makes bile rise in my throat, but at least my mother is happy.

For now.

I turn my attention back to the crowd, their blessings washing over me like water off a duck’s back—unwanted and ineffective.

My smile is cemented to my face, never wavering.

When my mother gestures me to the dance floor, I go without complaint, countless eyes following my progress.

I feel calm right up until the Governor comes into view.

His hands on me in theory is one thing; the reality now grinning coolly back at me is another entirely.

I feel my calm break in my chest, panic rising in its place.

His eyes are the stuff of nightmares. It’s damn near painful to see them skim up and down the length of me. Never before have I felt so violated with only a look.

Those eyes promise suffering that has no end.

Thelma appears at my side, looking her usual radiant self.

“Where were you?” she asks.

She’s the one person in the world I most want to tell. I need her to know about the man in the mask. About my one taste of freedom.

The music starting up reminds me that this is not the time. Certainly not the place.

“I’ll tell you later,” I whisper, stepping forward onto the dance floor.

Her gaze follows me, knowing.

I can never hide anything from Thelma.

The Governor meets me in the middle of the room, arms outstretched in offering. I place my hand into his, my body into a proximity that makes me feel ill.

He grasps my hand possessively. Firmly.

He tells me without a word that I am his. I’m bound to him through circumstances beyond my control.

As he spins me around, white dress flying, I know that it’s true.

No kiss in a dark corner can save me now. I am dancing with the beast of my future. My own personal demon, dipping me gracefully before the eyes of many.

As my vision inverts, my back supported by his palm alone, I see my one respite.

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