Page 1 of Bred By the Mercenary

PROLOGUE

AMELIA

“Did you have to wear that dress? You might as well be naked,” Ryker snarls, his voice slicing through the evening air. It’s loud enough for a nearby couple to glance our way. My cheeks blaze with embarrassment, but I force a smile, trying to make it seem like it’s a joke.

On the inside, I’m dying.

Turning to my boyfriend and lowering my voice, I ask, “Can you keep your voice down?” I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on us. I caught a whiff of alcohol on him when he picked me up in his car to attend this party, but he insisted it was just a couple of drinks. Now, his eyes have that wild glint I dread.

Around us are other guests, making their way from the parking area to the mansion for the party. While I had been looking forward to it, my stomach is twisting into knots that he’s going to have one of his episodes.

“Please, Ryker, don’t do this here. Let’s have a good night,” I plead softly, but his demeanor is like a storm cloud ready to burst, and I’m right in his path. He grabs my arm, his grip tight and painful, pulling me off the stone path into the shadows of the trees to my right.

“Stop it! Don’t do this here. You promised me you wouldn’t drink.” I try to wriggle from his painful hold, tugging against what feels like an iron grip.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize we were coming to this fancy place. And why did you dress like that? To have every guy here leering at you?” he snaps. “Is that what you want?” He scans me with disdain.

My heart sinks. I’d spend a whole paycheck on this dress. It isn’t transparent, but the skin-toned lining gives it an alluring illusion. It hugs my figure, ending mid-thigh, with a single strap over one shoulder, cascading down in a curve across my cleavage. The silver-blue fabric shimmers under the lights. I love this dress, yet Ryker looks at me as if I’m monstrous.

“We’re going back to my place,” he declares, yanking me across the lawn, my heels digging into the earth.

Panic and fury bubble inside me, my chest squeezing. I know back at his place, he’s gone into a rant for hours, and I did nothing damn wrong.

“Ryker, stop!” I finally wrench my arm free, stumbling on the spot. I catch sight of some people walking up on the path toward the party, the trees blocking us, but by only so much. I hate that he’s doing this to us here, now.

I’m burning up with anger at his behavior.

“Don’t you get it, Amelia? I don’t want to be seen with a slut, understand?” he snarls.

His words cut deep, and I lash out, my hand striking across his face.

I’d been nothing but supportive, even when he’d been jobless. This isn’t the first time he’s behaving like a jerk. I should have known it was too good to be true that he’d be on his best behavior.

“You bitch! After I took such good care of you!” His palm strikes my face back so hard, it disorients me, and pain burns across my face.

He’s never struck me before. What the fuck! Tears well up, my heart pounding in my throat. I cup my stinging cheek, reeling from the shock.

“You hit me!” I whisper, disbelief and terror mingling in my chest.

His expression shifts like day and night, an odd twitch flickering across his face.

“Babe, Amelia, fuck, I don’t know what came over me… I didn’t mean it… forgive me,” he stammers, reaching a hand out to me.

I back away so he doesn’t touch me, staring daggers at the man I spent the last eight months with, the man who at first glance is captivating, who knows how to sweet talk anyone. For a while, I counted myself lucky to find someone like him, except I’d been wrong. He was lucky to have someone like me.

He stands there in his black suit, arms dangling by his side, his hair blowing in the breeze off his face, and there’s surprise in his eyes, too.

“I…I can’t do this anymore,” I murmur, having had enough. “We’re over, Ryker,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel on the inside. “I want nothing more to do with you. I should have done this long ago.”

His shoulders shoot back, his face paling, while anger ignites in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he snaps. “So, for tonight, you don’t want me to go to the party with you?”

The audacity of his question almost has me laughing.

“It’s not just about tonight. This… us, it’s over for good,” I assert. My pulse is thumping in my veins, but I force myself to stand my ground. I’ve let him push me long enough.

“Be very careful what you say before you regret it,” he blurts out, standing stiff, the lights in the distance disfiguring his expression with the shadows dancing over his face.

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