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The breath leaves me in a rush of pain.
“I paid him to see how far you’d let him go. And you let him fucking touch you?”
“No.” I try again, but it’s useless.
He grabs me by the hair and pulls me to my feet. Then drags me to Vlad, another of his men.
“Since you love it so much, ask Vlad to touch you.” He throws me in front of him.
I see his black boots but don’t dare look up. “No.”
“DO IT!” Sergei yells, so loud I flinch. “DO IT!”
“No, I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to touch me,” I cry out, desperate for this to be over.
“Why?” He drops to his knees beside me, his fingers curl in my hair as he presses his lips to my ear. “Why moya lyubov’?”
This is it. I know what he wants, and I have to give it to him. Every part of me feels like it’s breaking. But I can’t afford to get hurt. I’m so close. It will take days to recover.
“Because I only want you to touch me.” The tears are streaming down my face, I can’t help it.
It’s silent apart from the pounding in my ears. I close my eyes waiting to see if it’s enough.
“Good Girl,” he sneers.
Then I hear a clink as steel handcuffs slap on my wrist. He forcefully pushes my head to the side and runs his tongue up my neck to my ear and sucks hard, his teeth dig into my skin.
“But you still need to be punished.” He pulls me up with the cuffs.
The glint in his eyes is dripping with desire, and there’s no other choice but to leave my body and fly away.
With a gasp and a sob, I wake from my nightmare. Body heaving, panic gripping my throat.
“Baby, you’re safe. It’s okay.” A gentle voice is trying to soothe me.
Then I see his face,
Ren’s.
And his soft hands caressing my cheek.
The darkness is coming back, the despair, the emptiness. My body shakes and words are lost, in a daze trapped between hell and reality.
I see Ren’s face, his caring eyes and hear his whispering comforting words, but breathing isn’t coming easy.
And his touch?
I flinch, hard, jolting up.
“Baby, it’s okay. You were just having a nightmare.” He sits up with me, reaching to touch me again.
I can’t.
Not now.
I jump out of bed and sprint out of the room, tears already falling. I can’t deal with this again, not again. The nightmares, the remembering, they all should be in the past. Buried, dealt with, finished.
I don’t stop until I have slammed the door shut in my bathroom, locking it. Then I collapse to the floor, knees to my chin, and tear at my hair. My body trembles violently, my breathing is ragged, and I’m gasping for air. But I can do this. I can beat this. I am stronger than this.
