Page 19 of Absolution (Favorite Malady Trilogy #3)

ABIGAIL

Three days later

I spin around the empty room, arms outstretched to encompass the space. “It’s perfect!”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied with it,” Dane says, voice rumbling with mirth at my shenanigans.

I shake my new set of keys so that they jangle, making a happy song to go with the little dance I can’t resist.

“ Satisfied ?” I repeat. “This is my dream come true! My own gallery. I can’t believe it.”

“You deserve it,” he says, tone dropping to something deeper and more serious. “The world needs your art.”

I beam at him and bound into his arms. He catches me, and then we’re both spinning. My delighted laugh echoes through the empty space, bouncing off the blank walls that will soon display my paintings.

It’s surreal. This seemed impossible only a few months ago.

But Dane believes in me. No one has ever believed in my art like he does.

Not even me.

But now, when I see him studying my paintings like they’re altering his entire worldview, I dare to think that I can actually succeed at this.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” I say breathlessly when I finally stop laughing.

He kisses my brow and sets me down on my feet, but his hands remain firmly on my waist, trapping me in his possessive hold.

“I’m not concerned about it,” he reassures me. “You’ll be able to cover the rent yourself in no time. Then you can look at buying a more permanent space.”

He’d offered to buy a property for my gallery, but I want to earn this for myself. Rental was a compromise until I can generate enough revenue to buy a place for myself.

It’s a small miracle that we were able to secure this place so quickly. It’s only been three weeks since we returned to Charleston, but Dane was single-minded in his determination to make my dream come true.

“I’ll spend the rest of the weekend helping you get set up,” he promises.

“You don’t have to do that,” I protest. “You should take some time to relax. You’ve been working crazy hours the last few days.”

He stormed out of the practice in the middle of the afternoon to save me from Billy earlier this week. I suspect he would’ve neglected his job entirely to keep an eye on me if I hadn’t insisted that he help Meadows. I don’t want my husband to lose what he’s worked so hard to build because of me.

He frowns. “I don’t like the idea of you being all alone in here. I’m going to help you.”

I cup his firm jaw. “We’re in the middle of town. I’m safe here.”

Until Dane tracks Billy down and deals with our lethal problem, I’ll be cautious. I don’t intend to isolate myself, so I’ve stuck to public settings when I’m not safely locked in our house. I can tell that Dane doesn’t like it, but he respects me enough to allow me my freedom.

The fact that we can track each other’s every move helps too.

His frown deepens to a scowl. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Let’s not talk about Billy. I want to celebrate.”

The grim expression finally melts from his handsome features, and his eyes glimmer with almost feral anticipation.

“How shall we celebrate, my queen? I have a few ideas.”

I lick my lips, catching onto his carnal mood. “Like what?”

He tips his head in the direction of the back room. “We could find out how soundproof the office is.”

My cheeks heat even as my core flutters. “Dane!” I scold. “I don’t want to scandalize the neighboring businesses on my first day in the building.”

His grin is wolfish. “Then you’ll have to be very quiet, pet. I’m sure I can figure out a way to gag you if you’ll be more comfortable that way.”

I scoff. “That’s not helping.”

“On the contrary,” he teases. “If you don’t want to bother your neighbors, I think a gag will be very helpful. Your panties will do nicely. Are they already wet for me?”

“Dane!”

“Abigail.”

I release a huff of exasperation, but I’m not really annoyed. Lust pulses through my veins, and I can’t deny the arousal that’s gathering between my thighs in response to his crass suggestions.

A bell rings, shattering the intimate moment. We both look toward the glass door in confusion. No one should be interested in entering an empty shop on a Saturday morning.

My stomach drops to the floor.

My mother strides into my new gallery like she owns the place, my father trailing after her with a bored expression on his weathered face. And—oh, god—even Uncle Jeffrey is with them.

Dane angles his powerful body in front of mine, instantly protective in the face of my relatives.

I gather my courage and step up beside him. I can’t cower behind my husband.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is clear and calm, and Dane threads his fingers through mine in a show of solidarity and pride.

His support bolsters me like nothing else. I’m able to square my shoulders and meet my mother’s ice blue gaze without flinching.

Her Botox-frozen features give nothing away, her expression unnervingly enigmatic. But her voice is all honeyed warmth when she says, “We came to see your gallery, darling.”

Confusion knits my brow. “How did you even know I’d be here?”

Her affable smile doesn’t reach her sharp, calculating eyes. “A member of my bridge club owns this building. She was so excited to tell me that you’ve rented the space for your little art project.”

Dane tenses beside me, and I quickly place a restraining hand on his corded forearm.

“We just had to come see it for ourselves,” she continues. “It’s been ages since Meadows’ wedding, and we barely had a chance to speak to you before you two ran off.” She makes a sound like a conspiratorial giggle, but it’s too sharp to be genial. “You’d think we scared you away.”

“I took Abigail home,” Dane says, ice cold. He’s not bothering to put on a show for my family. “We found the company distasteful, and I didn’t feel like putting up with the farce any longer.”

Mama draws back slightly in the face of his emotionless, clinical stare. Even my spine tingles with unease at the primal recognition of a predator at my side.

I edge closer to my dark protector.

“Now, wait just a minute,” my dad blusters. “You can’t speak to my wife like that.”

“You are not welcome here,” Dane says, each word a sharp, icy dagger. “Leave.”

“Oh my gosh, Abby!” Mama says, as though she hasn’t heard a word he’s said. “What is that ring on your finger? Surely, you didn’t elope without telling your mother.”

Uncle Jeffrey beams at me like it’s the best news he’s ever heard. “Our little Abby is married? We’ll have to throw you two a party at the house. A belated wedding reception at home would be perfect.”

“I’m not going back there,” I announce, holding my head high despite the nausea rolling through me. “Elysium isn’t my home. Not anymore.”

Just the thought of the grand plantation with its vile history makes cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. I will never return there.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Uncle Jeffrey cajoles.

Shock punches me when he brashly closes the distance between us and slings an arm over my shoulder like we’re best friends.

“It’s time to put all unpleasantness behind us.” He’s still talking, but there’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears. “You belong with your family. Blood is everything.”

His familiar tobacco and amber scent permeates my senses. My vision tunnels, and my entire body locks up tight.

The empty gallery flickers around me, and a nauseating image flashes across my mind: Uncle Jeffrey is looming over me, his broad smile filling my world.

His pupils are dilated, darkening his pale blue eyes with sick excitement.

Massive, masculine hands are on my shoulders, so much stronger than me.

His weight crushes me, and something hard presses into my belly.

The flash is gone as quickly as it came, and I’m in the gallery again. The ringing sound is deafening, blocking out my mother’s voice. She’s right in front of me, but I can’t hear her speaking. Everything blurs around me, as though I’m underwater. I can’t breathe.

Uncle Jeffrey’s body is heavy and hot, and I smell the tobacco of his beloved pipe. His face is so close to mine. Every part of him is close.

My stomach twists, and I lurch away from him, stumbling as I desperately free myself from his restraining arm.

I don’t understand what’s happening. All I know is that I’m about to be sick.

The ringing in my ears pierces my brain, making it throb and ache. I rush to the bathroom and barely manage to slam the door behind me before I fall to my knees and vomit.

Then Dane is with me, holding my hair and stroking my back.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp before I gag again. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He grunts, but he doesn’t say anything else. His tension sets my teeth on edge, heightening the anxiety that rakes my tight chest like razorblades on my burning lungs.

He shushes me gently, his hands tender and careful with me, as always.

When I don’t have anything left inside me, I’m left shaking and wrung out. My head aches, and my empty stomach is still in knots.

“Let’s get you home,” Dane says. His voice is rough, like he’s angry about something.

“I’m sorry I’m sick. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” he growls. “I’m taking you home. Now.”

I’m feeling too weak to argue, so I allow myself to lean on him as he helps me to my feet and guides me out of my gallery.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re back home. I quickly brush my teeth to wash the lingering acidity out of my mouth, but it barely dulls my persistent nausea.

Dane doesn’t bother to remove our clothes before tucking us both under the duvet. I shiver despite the warm blanket, and his arms wrap around me, as though he can shield me from all the bad things in the world.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice still rougher than usual.

I peek up at him. “Are you angry with me?”

He cups my cheek. “No, Abigail. I’m not angry with you.” His tone gentles slightly. “I need you to tell me what happened that made you sick.”

I blink. “I… I don’t know. I guess I was more stressed out by my family than I realized.” My cheeks flush with shame. “That’s so stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” he says curtly. “You are not stupid.”

His forest green eyes study my face intently, analyzing each of my features as though he’s searching for something.

“What happened when your uncle put his arm around you?”

I flinch.

His thumb hooks beneath my jaw, gently holding my face so that I’m trapped in his tender hand.

“I understand if you don’t want to remember,” he says quietly.

The flashes from the gallery flicker over my mind again, and I shudder in pure revulsion.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I just felt…trapped.”

“By your uncle?” That rough, gravelly tone again.

I look up at him, beseeching. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Don’t you?” Dane prompts, gentler this time.

My heart gives a painful twist, as though it might tear asunder.

“Your nightmares,” he says. “You said there was a man who scared you. And there was a frightened child: you.”

“What are you saying?” I ask raggedly, even though I already know.

But I don’t want the knowledge. I want to forget.

Just like I’ve managed to forget for all these years.

But now, the memories are bubbling just beneath the surface of my conscious thoughts, threatening to spill over and taint the happy new life I’m building with Dane.

“You had a flashback,” he tells me. “Has that ever happened before?”

“No!” Alarm bursts through me. I don’t want this to be real.

Because if it is, all the horrors of my adult life are starting to make some sort of terrible sense. I can’t face it.

I thread my fingers through my hair, tugging at the delicate strands as though I can tear the memories from my brain.

Dane’s long fingers encircle my wrists and direct my hands away from my head before I can hurt myself.

“No.” This time, my refusal is a low groan.

His face is drawn in lines of anguish, as though my pain is his own. I can’t bear the sight of his suffering. My determination to spare him pain gives me the strength I need to draw in a ragged breath.

“Why do you think…” I swallow against another surge of nausea. “Have you always suspected?”

I can’t bring myself to put the crime against me into words. If I say it aloud, I’ll never be able to take it back. It’ll be irrevocably true, and I’m not ready to face that.

He shakes his head. “Only since you described your nightmare. But from what you told me about your debutante date and how you reacted to Ron’s assault, I drew a likely conclusion based on your freeze response. I just didn’t know who it was.”

His eyes glint with a lethal light, but I’m too bogged down in my trauma to think about my uncle’s potential murder.

“If you suspected, why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“I didn’t want to force you to remember if you didn’t want to. I’d hoped you never would.” His thumb traces the taut slash of my lips. “I never wanted to cause you this pain.”

“If this is true…” I swallow hard. “You said you drew your conclusion because I freeze when I’m threatened. Because I was…conditioned not to fight back.” My gut twists. “Part of me was conditioned to like it. Some of what he did to me felt good physically.”

Agonized lines draw deep around Dane’s stunning eyes, but he doesn’t say anything in response.

My horrific revelations issue from my numb lips like someone else is speaking. “I orgasm when I’m violated. It feels good because my brain was wired this way from the beginning. Men look at me, and they know I’m prey. I was designed to be raped. And I like it.”

If my stomach weren’t empty, I’d vomit again.

“No,” Dane snarls. “Never say that about yourself.”

His perfect face blurs as my eyes fill with tears. “But it’s true. I get off on being overpowered and violated. I let it happen. I always let it happen.”

“None of this is your fault,” he insists.

A sense of powerlessness hollows out my chest. Everything I’ve built with Dane, all of the dark desires I’ve learned to accept, are rooted in something disgusting.

In this moment, I’m robbed of all agency.

There’s nothing empowering about embracing my sexual nature with my master.

Because it’s never been my choice. I’m like this because of what a sick man did to me when I was a child.

My soul shreds, and an animal wail fills the bedroom. Dane’s arms wrap around me as though he can hold the remnants of me together.

But even my dark god doesn’t have the power to fix me. I’ve been broken for my whole life. Now I finally understand why.