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CHAPTER8
Sierra
I gasped, trying to get air into my lungs, the feeling of suffocation unlike anything I’d ever felt.
I was dead. I had to be.
As I opened my eyes, my vision was assaulted by the darkness. There was a complete absence of light. Shivering, I was afraid to move.
As I tried to piece together what had happened, I felt a presence somewhere near my location. After taking a few labored breaths, I stretched out one arm, trying to gather of sense of where I was. I was lying down. Carefully and without making any noise, I patted my hands against whatever I was lying on. It was hard, but the surface wasn’t the floor. I managed to wrap my hand around a rounded edge of something. Metal. Maybe I was lying on a cot. But where? Where had the bastard taken me?
He’d broken into my house. And… Just the thought of what had happened between us increased my pulse.
When I took a deep breath, I was able to detect his scent. It was all over me. Spices and sandalwood.
And sex.
He’d fucked me.
The bastard.
Repulsed, I shifted only a couple of inches, but it was enough to remind me that he’d also spanked me like I was some bad girl and my bottom hurt like hell.
Alessandro. I couldn’t stand to whisper his name, yet it rolled through my mind over and over again like some damn satellite broadcast. I also ached from the hard fucking, but I remained wet, my nipples still sore from his merciless taking of me. Shivering, I shifted again, my eyes finally getting used to the darkness. There were shadows in the room, although I couldn’t make out what they were.
Cold.
An icy chill tore through my veins, my breath skipping as terror wrapped itself around my heart, dragging me into the depths of horror. I had to remain strong. I needed to find out what the hell he wanted with me. I was no fool. This was about something Tristen had been involved in. I should have listened to my nagging inner voice years ago, demanding that I learn every detail about the accident, but I’d been shell-shocked, allowing myself to be manipulated.
I wasn’t a fool and certainly didn’t believe in fairytales, but I’d bought into the officer’s statement regarding the accident—lock, stock, and noose around my neck. There were far too many missing pieces, but I knew one thing for certain. My captor wasn’t the seductive man he’d portrayed himself to be. He was a cold-blooded monster capable of vile things.
Ruthless.
Soulless.
I’d seen the look in his eyes, the blackened pathway leading to a remorseless man. Who was he, and what had Tristen done to him?
My God. The asshole had taken me like I already belonged to him, almost as if our sinful coupling was nothing more than a vicious game that he intended on winning. I bit back an involuntary cry, trying to keep my wits about me. I was exhausted and drained from the experience, the adrenaline rush from before all but nonexistent.
Tears formed in my eyes, and I took a deep breath, holding it.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. You can get through this.
Yes, I could. Then I’d crucify the bastard.
I took several deep breaths, fighting with myself until I found the courage to move to a sitting position. For some crazy reason, I was surprised I didn’t have thick rope binding my wrists together, keeping me immobilized until the bastard was ready to make good on his threat. No, his promise. I hated the way another shiver skittered down my spine. As I took deep breaths, I searched the darkness, certain he was watching me. However, the dull throb remaining in my head indicated he’d drugged me. I pressed my hand across my forehead, continuing to shiver.
Maybe I just had the creepy-crawlies from being taken captive. A laugh bubbled to the surface, the fog in my head remaining. After he’d fucked me, I remembered he’d placed something over my mouth and nose. Chloroform? I was no expert in abduction 101, but given I remained nauseous, finding it difficult to concentrate, I’d venture a guess I was right.
Exhaustion still ruled my body, and I closed my eyes briefly, trying to reduce my pulse rate. Then I remembered a conversation I’d had with Tristen, one of the last before he died. Why was the memory plaguing me now?
“What are you doing?” Tristen demanded as he stormed into the living room.
I had his phone in my hand, already punching in the code. His behavior had been bizarre the last few weeks, so damn secretive that it had driven me crazy. When I’d asked, he’d said nothing was wrong, just a complicated case he was working on. But I’d known better. He was hiding something from me, and I was determined to find out what.
“I’m trying to figure out why your entire personality changed over the last two months. Why you won’t talk to me about your work.” My grasp on the phone was tight and I took two steps backward, glaring at him. We’d had our share of fights over the months, but they’d escalated, his anger entirely different than before.
He took two long strides, ripping the phone from my hand then walking me to the wall. As he stood over me, his nostrils flared, his mouth twisting in rage and hatred. When he raised his arm, I thought for certain he was going to hit me.
