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She’d never relived those images outside her nightmares. Why now?
A punch of pain erupted in her skull again. She was cold. So cold that shudders began jerking through her, uncontrollable, violent tremors she couldn’t still.
Pouring with sweat, her breath heaving from her lungs, Zoey fought to catch her breath, to stop the ragged, broken sobs and terrifying shudders. What had happened that night?
A jagged scar . . .
Intense, white hot, the pain drove her to the floor, her shoulders meeting the mat. Curled into a fetal position, gasping cries falling from her lips, she fought to live now. The agony was ripping her brain to shreds, destroying her . . .
“Zoey!”
No.
Oh God, not Doogan . . .
“Zoey, baby. Come here.”
—
Son of a bitch. Whoever had done this to her was going to die! By his hand, they would die.
“I’m here,” he whispered softly, so softly he knew she’d have to concentrate to hear him. “I’m with you, baby. Right here.”
The suggestions he’d made while she’d been under the influence of that powerful mind-control drug were subtle but all the stronger for it.
He was there. The pain would go away.
“I’m right here, Zoey. You’re warm. You’re safe.”
The shudders began easing, the iciness of her flesh warming as he wrapped himself around her, holding her firmly to his chest, his head against hers.
“I have you, baby.”
He wanted to snarl in rage. He wanted to kill the bastard who’d done this to her.
“I’m so scared.” Her whimper sent rage clawing at his senses as his chest tightened with the pain of what he knew she was feeling.
“No fear, baby.” He kept his voice low. So low she had no choice but to concentrate on it to make out what he said. “No more pain, Zoey. No pain while I’m here.”
Her arms tightened around his neck. She burrowed closer to him, her hands sliding into his hair, holding him to her.
“You danced with me,” she whispered. “You didn’t stay. You didn’t come back.”
Six years. It had been six years, six brutal, guilt-soaked years since he’d danced with her.
“I know.” Brushing his lips over her temple, Doogan stroked his hands down her back, regret flaying his heart.
“Why?” The pain was easing from her voice, hunger edging into it instead of pain and fear. “Why didn’t you kiss me? You wanted to.”
He’d wanted to.
He’d wanted to eat her kiss, stroke and taste her sweet body before devouring her pussy. The fantasies he’d been helpless against the moment his eyes locked on her that night had destroyed him.
“I wanted to kiss you,?? he agreed. “I wanted to consume you. To fill my senses with you.”
Her breathing was still hard, fast, but not from pain.
“I waited for you.” Breathy, filling with such intense hunger that it constricted his breathing, her voice held him almost spellbound.
