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He laughed like he thought I’d just said something hilarious. I hated being laughed at. Especially when I wasn’t trying to be funny.

“You think you’re so darn smart, little girl. I’m here to tell you you’re not, and I’m not giving you a choice. You’ll do as you’re told, or you’ll be punished.”

He had to be joking, because if he was serious, then he’d more than completely lost his mind. A man who’d lost his mind could be a scary thing, because they were unpredictable and capable of anything.

Marcus lunged toward me with his arms outstretched, ready to grab me. I sidestepped him and tried to run. I shot past him with no destination in mind, just the desire and need to get as far away from him as possible.

I didn’t make it far before there was a horrible pain in my scalp and I was wrenched backwards by my hair. I screamed as I reached back to try and pry his fingers from my hair, but his grip was unyielding and he refused to let go.

I could run no more, or my hair would be ripped right out of my scalp.

Even with my fingers attempting to pry his grip off of me, and my fingernails biting and tearing into his skin, he did not let go.

I had a flashback to my early teenage years, when one of Vivian’s visitors got a little too handsy with me and didn’t much care for the word no. His name had been Mitch. He’d worn glasses, had a gold tooth, and had been very obese. He’d had thick, fat fingers that had easily weaved their way through my strands of hair.

I’d had to lock myself in the bathroom to escape him, and because he’d had a hold of my hair, a huge chunk of it had been on the other side of the door, and I hadn’t been able to move away from the door until he’d gotten bored with me and left. I thought maybe that time had been worse because every time he’d yank my hair, my head had been slammed into the door.

I blinked away the past and came back into myself. I was no longer a child, and I was absolutely no longer defenseless.

Marcus Cole was just like every other asshole Vivian had ever brought home before. The only difference was we’d moved into his home with him instead of the other way around.

Vivian’s assholes didn’t get to scare me anymore. And they certainly didn’t get to threaten and abuse me.

Not anymore.

Not while I was still breathing.

Not ever again.

Fuck Vivian Kimber and her shitty taste in men.

And fuck Marcus Cole for finally fitting in with the rest of the men in that category.

“Get your handsthe fuckoff of me,” I snarled as I dug my heels into the dirt and grass to keep him from dragging me any farther.

In my panic, I reached out with my magic for anything I could find. It blew out of me, searching, seeking, not stopping until it found something useful to me.

Roots and weeds exploded up out of the grass and dirt at our feet. They kept growing taller and thicker as they wrapped around Marcus’s body, starting with his ankles and winding their way upwards.

“You stupid little girl,” he hissed as he finally let go of my hair. “I didn’t want to have to hurt you, but now you’ve forced me into this. Remember that when you wake up later with blame on you and you’ve only got yourself to blame.” His voice was strained, and at the end of his stupid little speech, he was wheezing.

How dare he try to blame me for this situation.

Fingers wrapped around my throat from behind. Just a touch, barely there, and not with enough pressure to actually harm me or block my airway, but my airway was suddenly blocked and I couldn’t breathe.

I opened my mouth to suck in as much oxygen as I could possibly get inside me, but my throat was closed and the air turned to ash on my tongue.

I clawed at his hands on my throat as I tried to twist away from him with no use. Except for my hands, my body refused to move. Black spots danced in my vision as my lungs burned, and my head felt like it was going to explode.

I lost hold of my magic. The weeds and roots receded back into the ground, leaving the dirt and grass a shredded mess. Marcus was no longer restrained by my magic. He was now able to move freely while I was the one no longer able to move.

He wrapped his arms around me, one around my chest and one around my middle, finally releasing his touch on the front of my throat. He pulled my body back into him until my back was pressed up against his chest. Even though hands were no longer anywhere near my throat, I still could not breathe.

The motherfucker was killing me with his magic, and I’d let my panic take over and rob me of the ability to put my magic to good use.

It had never failed me before now, and honestly, I wasn’t going to see it as having failed me. Oh no, that wasn’t my magic, that was all on me.

“Just remember,” he whispered with his lips brushing the shell of my ear, “when you wake up next, this is all on you. We could have gone easy, but you refused to do things the easy way.”