Page 14

K icking, thrashing, screaming, and panting, Tahira was roughly led up to the second floor of what she now realized was a mansion.

Judging by the decor, and the fact most of the people she’d encountered had heavy Spanish accents, it was most likely a hacienda.

And since no one came running at the sound of her cries for help, it must be an empty hacienda—or one filled with people who didn’t care.

Probably the latter, because she knew there were other men around.

The ones who had followed her and Secada up from the cell area had veered off in another direction on the first floor.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, and she didn’t have to worry about falling backward down them, Tahira went on another attack.

However, her punches, scratches, and shoeless kicks did nothing to deter the man as he strode down the hallway with her in tow.

Stopping at a door, he opened it and shoved her inside. “Get in there, puta!”

She hadn’t expected the sudden thrust and stumbled before her hand found the wall and she steadied herself.

The door shut behind her and the lock was engaged.

Her heart pounding, Tahira turned to see Secada stalking toward her.

She backed away, moving further into the room.

Looking around frantically she searched for something she could use as a weapon, but aside from a large bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and an armoire, the room was sparse.

There wasn’t even a lamp she could grab and swing at him.

The only light came from bulbs attached to a ceiling fan.

The shades were pulled down over two windows, but there was a little light coming through the edges.

Rain pelted against the glass as thunder roared.

A brief thought flashed in her mind—this was a scene out of a horror movie.

At least she wished it was but knew that wish wouldn’t come true.

The backs of Tahira’s legs hit the corner of the bed—the last thing she wanted to be near.

Pivoting, she stepped closer to the armoire, trying to keep as much difference between Secada and herself as she could.

He was surrounded by a swirling combination of black, grey, and red—his aura was pure evil.

Tahira had never seen such a violent aura before, and the panic and fear she’d been feeling since he’d dragged her from the cell turned into sheer terror. She gulped for air.

Alive ... the others he assaulted are still alive. Remember that.

The other women had lived through whatever he’d done to them.

She would too, but she sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy on him.

She would still fight the bastard, and no matter what happened, she’d be alive when it was over.

She would see her family again. All she had to do was survive until she and the others were rescued.

The man grabbed a plastic bottle of water from the dresser and moved toward her.

When she realized she was being backed into a corner, Tahira changed direction and rushed toward Secada, trying to take him off guard and push past him, but he caught her around the waist and pinned her against the wall.

She struggled, but he used his larger body to hold her in place.

His hot, putrid breath hit her face, making her nauseous.

She tried to scratch his face, but he grabbed both her hands in one of his and secured them above her head.

Using his teeth, Secada twisted the cap off the water bottle, spit it out of his mouth, and then spoke for the first time since they’d entered the room. “Drink it.”

It took her a moment to remember Melanie saying he drugged the women he attacked.

Whatever he used must be dissolved in the water.

Pursing her lips shut, she turned her head as he brought the bottle to her mouth, but he let go of her arms and viciously grabbed her chin, digging his fingers into her flesh.

He forced her jaw open as she groaned in pain. “I said drink it.”

Her hands grasped his wrist, sinking her nails into his flesh and trying to pull him off her, but he was so much stronger than her and unfazed.

Unable to keep her jaw closed under the agony and pressure, she tried to move her head back and forth.

But the bottle followed her, and water filled her mouth.

He tilted her head back, so she couldn’t expel the liquid.

She had no alternative but to swallow or it would go down into her lungs.

Survive .

Most of the water ended up in her stomach, but some of it ran out the corners of her mouth and down onto her heaving chest, scattering goosebumps across her shoulders and down her arms.

Once the bottle was empty, Secada dragged her by the grip he still had on her jaw and propelled her onto the bed. The dark blue bedspread felt deathly cold against her skin. Tahira jumped to her knees and glanced at the door. It was too far away. He’d be on her before her feet ever hit the floor.

Her nostrils flared, drawing oxygen into her lungs far too quickly.

A wave of vertigo hit her, and she wobbled while struggling to remain upright.

She was starting to hyperventilate as Secada stood at the foot of the bed and stared at her.

She had no idea what he was waiting for, and for a moment, anger pushed aside her fear.

Her hands clenched tightly as she yelled at him, “What are you waiting for, you bastard?”

An ugly sneer crossed his face. “Anxious to get started, princess? I would think you’d want to hold onto your precious virginity as long as you could.”

As Tahira glared at him, the man split into two then three. Dizziness overtook her, and her mouth went dry. The water in her stomach churned, and she closed her eyes, trying not to vomit.

If he gave her the same stuff as the others, she'll sleep for a few hours. If she's lucky, she'll forget what happened when she wakes up—some do, some don’t.

Melinda’s words came back to her. This man was going to rape Tahira no matter what, but if she kept the water down, her body would absorb the drug into her system.

There was a chance she wouldn’t remember what was about to happen.

She didn’t want it to happen at all, but it was clear she didn’t have a choice, so all she could do was pray she didn’t remember anything when it was all over.

When she opened her eyes again, the room spun.

Everything appeared to be moving—the furniture, the door, and Secada—in slow motion.

Her soon-to-be rapist had taken his clothes off, but he was nothing more than an indistinguishable blob of tanned skin.

Multicolored lights flashed before her eyes as the din of the rain and thunder increased in her mind.

Her senses were bombarded. Her surroundings appeared more vivid yet shapeless.

Sounds were louder than normal. The air crackling around her felt more intense.

She fell onto her back and closed her eyes again, hoping her world would stop spinning and she would slip into unconsciousness.

Her body had become defenseless under the influence of the drug.

Her breathing slowed. Her limbs were too heavy to lift.

Tears rolled down her cheeks to wet her hair that was spread out underneath her head.

Secada moved to the side of the bed and picked up her hand. Tahira tried to pull it away, but her muscles wouldn’t listen to her screaming mind.

“Make me hard, bitch!”

Her hand was forced to close around something soft and unfamiliar.

Tahira couldn’t open her eyes even if she wanted to, which she didn’t.

She willed her mind to think of one of her favorite places on Earth.

She’d been in many beautiful locations, all around the world, but she loved to sit on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico and watch the dolphins play as the sun set behind them.

That’s where she wanted to be right now—with her soulmate.

A man with dark hair and green eyes sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her, keeping her safe.

He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “I have you, princess. You’re mine, and I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again.

Keep thinking of me. You’ll get through this if you just keep thinking of me. I love you.”