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Jonathan! It’s him. He’s back. I can’t let him get me on my knees again. I can’t let him get control of my body. I can’t let him make me do those things to him.

My hands find his neck. It’s smaller than expected, making it easier to grip. I squeeze. He’s not going to win this time. I don’t belong to him anymore. He can’t use me or hurt me or torture me anymore. He’s going to die. Tonight!

I clench my fingers tighter, reveling in how he struggles for breath. He deserves to die like this. He deserves far worse, but now that I’ve got my hands around his throat, I’m not stopping until he’s dead.

Fingernails claw at my hands. One cuts deep into my skin. Pain. So much pain. My grip relaxes for a second.

“Scar! Stop!” a woman’s strangled voice cuts through the darkness.

What the fuck? Where did the man go?

The fog lifts. The person underneath me is soft, warm, and curvy. Not Jonathan. Not a guard. Not even a man. Her scent hits me hard. Cinnamony, like my favorite cereal, but sweeter because it’sher. It’s Julia, and I nearly killed her.

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” I snarl, releasing her neck. “I could have killed you.”

She tries to shove me off her, but I’m livid. I grab her wrists and pin them over her head. She’s breathing hard, and her breasts press against my chest with every inhale. She squirms beneath me, trying to push me off with her hips. Each little wiggling attempt to break free only makes me more aware of her plush body and all those curves. Dangerously sexy curves.

I rear back, sitting on my heels. What the hell just happened?

“Scar, it’s okay. You were just having a nightmare.” She sits up slowly, watching me warily. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” I run my fingers through my hair.

I’m not fine. Not even close.

“You’re safe now. Come here.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and tries to pull me into an embrace. She’s totally oblivious to how close she just came to being killed. Why is she even in my room? It doesn’t matter. I need her to be gone.

“Get out!” I shove her off the bed. She rolls onto the floor and lands on all fours like a cat. Seeing her on her hands and knees sends a rush of need straight to my cock. Confusion furrows my brow. How could I possibly be aroused after one of my nightmares? That never happens. I can’t seem to keep my thoughts in order. It’s all a jumbled mess.

“Scar,” she whispers. She slowly stands next to the bed. “Talk to me.”

“Go away!” I need a second to think, but she’s already climbing back onto the bed.

“No. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Moonlight streams through the sheer curtains. I’m naked. I always sleep naked because clothing can catch on my scars. It’s uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. And I’m on display for her. She can see all my scars, a complete index of all the ways Blackstone tortured me. I don’t let anyone see me like this. I don’t want her to see any of it, but she’s seeing everything.

“Go back to bed.” The tightness in my throat makes it hard to speak. She’s wearing nothing more than a tiny pink tank top and virginal white panties. I can’t stop staring, no matter how much I know I should look away.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she says.

“I’m fine.” I flop back against the mattress and drape my arm over my eyes. There, now I can’t see her. She can’t tempt me with all that luscious sweetness. Now I just need to keep them shut until she’s gone.

After a minute, I crack one eye open. She’s still standing there, watching me, inching closer. I wish she would just leave. Why is she still here?

“It’s just that your back … those scars … and you were screaming …” She lays beside me and slowly slides her arms around my shoulders. I tense, but I can’t resist her warmth. Her comforting touch is exactly what I need right now. Somehow, she knows it. It’s as if she can sense my emotions. It’s strange and disconcerting, but I can’t bring myself to move away from her. I want to be closer, so I pull her into my arms and hold her just as tightly as she’s holding me. I can’t speak. But I also feel like I don’t have to. She’s not asking me for anything. She’s simply giving me refuge, and I’m taking it. I bury my face in her silky hair, and my whole body shudders when I think about how close I came to snapping her neck.

“What happened to you?” she whispers, brushing her lips against my throat.

When? Now? Then? I don’t know how to answer her, so I roll her onto her back and bury my face in the soft valley between her breasts. She cradles my head before sliding her delicate hand down to the nape of my neck. She massages the tension in those muscles slowly, gently. One by one, the muscles along my spine relax.

No one’s ever touched me like this. Women grab me like I’m a piece of meat. They take what they want. They ride my cock until they’re done with me. Then they leave. It’s always the same. But she’s holding me, no, she’scuddlingme, and cracks are starting to form in the hard shell around my heart. If I’m not careful, she’s going to break me open in a way no other woman ever could. Not that any of them ever tried too hard. They used me just as much as I used them. That’s the way it’s always been. It’s the way it always will be.

Her hands travel down my back, stroking and caressing my broken flesh. She doesn’t seem to mind the scars. If anything, she’s fascinated by them because she keeps tracing the edges of the deeper ones. Usually, women ask too many questions about them, so I keep them covered. I don’t let women see me naked. Letting them see my pain is too intimate, and I never let them get that close. I don’t know why I’m allowing her to touch me like this.

“Just let me hold you,” she murmurs.

This little, delicate creature is stronger than any woman I’ve ever known, except for Nina. Julia should run screaming from the room, but she doesn’t. She hasn’t stopped holding me and caressing me. I’m unsure how to respond, so I simply let her rock me while I shiver uncontrollably.