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“Loren.”
She flinched at the sound of her name, feeling her heart pound in her chest as if his voice alone zapped some life back into it. Though what was the point of living? Every thrum of her pulse echoed as if to drive home how worthless her existence had become.
Loren, Loren, Loren.
Loren Connors, that girl who killed her father. Stabbed him in cold blood—though the newspapers would probably come up with some way to lay on the drama, by mentioning years of suspected abuse. Her tormented past.
“Traumatized girl murders father in the woods.”
“Loren.”
She blinked to find him closer than before, crouched on one gloriously bare knee.
“Look at me.” He spoke slowly as if in the space of a few minutes, she had reverted to a child. “What happened?”
Helpless, she shook her head. She couldn’t say it.
“Loren—”
“No, no, no…” Her voice was so shrill. She sounded hysterical. Crazed. Some poor little girl in the middle of a nightmare that needed to be woken up. “No, no, no, no—”
“Loren.” He didn’t have to raise his voice. Shefeltrather than heard her name come from his lips. The sound encased her, blocking out everything else buthim.“Look at me.”
She did, and the sight of those gray eyes filled with concern set everything over the edge. He would have to take her soon. Shove her in the back of that squad car and drive her into town, where strange looks and whispers would follow her for the rest of her life.
You know, Loren Connors—that crazy girl, who…
“Loren, breathe!”
She was hyperventilating. Her breaths wheezed. She felt dizzy…
Look at me!
The command erupted inside her skull, too authoritative to deny. When she raised her head, gray eyes held her captive more securely than any handcuffs.
“Loren… Shit!” His eyes cut down to her front. Judging from the cool breeze tickling her chest, her nightgown was completely in tatters.
“Damn it.” The curses flowed from him, one right after the other, matching the anger that had him reaching for her breast. She didn’t have the strength to panic. His warmth leeched into her skin—he was so damn hot. Like a furnace, throwing off heat.
Even his fingertips felt like hot pokers on her skin. She flinched at the contact—had she escaped one nightmare only to jump right into another? But no…he only grabbed for the torn edges of the gown and held them closed.
He noticed her reaction, and his grimace made her feel guilty for shying away.
“Did he…fuck!” He turned, glaring into the trees as if he couldn’t evenlookat her and pose the question. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “Did hehurtyou?”
Loren shook her head, sensing that he wasn’t referring to the bruises forming all over her body.
He remained silent for so long that Loren almost wondered if he had turned to stone right before her eyes. A living, breathing statue. Slowly, he faced her again, but his expression made her heart sink.
A grim frown warned that, whatever he’d decided, it wouldn’t be good… Not for her.
She tried to move, stand, run away—anything,but his presence was like an invisible weight, holding her down. Keeping her in place. At least until he gave herpermissionto move.
“Loren, listen to me. This was an accident—”
“Please…” She didn’t want him to paint a bright shade over the stark, grim truth. “I’m a monster.”
“No,” he said in a tone she felt down to her toes. “You aren’t. But, if you let me…I can take it away. I cantakethe pain away.”
