Page 16 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

DANE

Now

O ver time, it became clear to me that Abigail wasn’t anywhere near ready to accept the fact that I’m the masked man who broke into her apartment.

After she finally opened up to me about how she was raped by that fucker, Tom, I knew it was too soon to reveal the truth.

Then Ron attacked her, and she was so distressed.

Even though she experienced intense pleasure when I forced her to orgasm under the threat of my knife, she hadn’t fully embraced the darkest aspects of our connection. And when we fucked, she’d struggled in bed a few times, but she hadn’t truly fought me.

Until she was ready to indulge in those darkest games, I knew it was too soon to tell her that I was the masked man.

But then she broke into my second home and found the skull mask in my nightstand, and the choice was no longer mine. She’d been horrified.

But after what we just shared, she’ll understand.

In her new studio, we fully realized the powerful eroticism of dancing at the edge of consent. The sensual painting that we created is proof of that. Later, we’ll both admire it.

But for now, she’s shaking and spent. And she’s covered in paint.

I gather her up in my arms and hug her to my chest. As I carry her out of the studio, I marvel at the stunning woman who belongs to me, irrevocably and completely.

Her creamy skin is still flushed from her orgasms, a deeper shade of pink coloring her chest and cheeks.

The lovely hue blends with the blue paint that I stroked onto her body like she’s my own personal canvas.

I’ll never be an artist like Abigail, but she’s my masterpiece.

I take my time carrying her to my bedroom, admiring my work. It’ll be a shame to wash the paint away, so I etch the memory of her perfection into my mind.

She’s mine.

I knew it was only a matter of time before she accepted our bond, my claim over her. She’s been thorny since she woke up this morning, but now she looks serene. Subdued.

Her eyes are closed, and her breaths are deep and even.

Her long, dark lashes fan her cheeks like a sleeping princess in one of her favorite animated musicals.

That enchanting freckle on her cheekbone marks her as a unique, proud woman.

I sensed it in her when I first laid eyes on her.

Even then, my need to possess her completely had been inevitable.

My chest aches just looking at her. I want her so badly that my craving consumes me. My cock is still hard, but I have enough self-control to spare her from my selfish lust. There will be time for that later. She needed pleasure first.

I was right to seduce her in the studio. It served as a reminder of how good it can be between us.

Her accusations of stalking and kidnapping had stung a bit—as had the shocking blows with the lamp and the table— but I’m confident that I’ve done nothing wrong. She just didn’t understand why I had to do everything that I’ve done to win her heart.

I meant what I said to her. It was the only way.

This is how it has to be between us: raw and dark and real.

Our connection is the only thing that matters to me now, the only real thing in my world.

She is my world.

My Abigail.

My sweet pet, my little dove.

All mine.

I step into my ensuite bathroom and carry her toward the bathtub.

She’s almost completely limp in my arms, so I carefully crouch down to turn on the water while I keep her in a firm hold.

When I’m satisfied with the temperature, I ease off her dress and set her down so that she’s reclining in the bath.

She’s so still, and she allows me to position her like a doll.

My stomach knots.

What happened to my fierce pet who fought me with all her might? She should be looking at me with a lazy smile and utter devotion shining in her gemstone eyes.

“Abigail.” Her name rasps from my tight throat.

She doesn’t respond in any way. Her cheeks remain rosy from her orgasms and the heat of the rising water, but her expression is frozen.

I cup warm water in my hand and carefully wash the paint from her heartbreaking face.

It’s not only her beauty that’s making my chest ache now. There’s a dull throb in my heart with each heavy beat.

“Abigail.” Her name is almost a growl this time, a warning that demands her attention.

“What do you want, Dane?” The question is soft and flat.

She sounded like this when she first woke up in my arms this morning. I’d thought she was woozy from the lingering drugs. Now, I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how to interpret this strange mood.

“I want you to look at me.”

Her eyes open, and they instantly shine with fresh tears. They mingle with the warm water as I wash the last of the paint from her cheek.

“You’re okay,” I soothe her. I suppose our scene in the studio was intense. Some residual emotion is understandable. “Stay here with me. You’re safe.”

She closes her eyes again and turns her face away from my tender touch.

She doesn’t say anything in reply.

“Talk to me,” I urge.

“What do you want me to say?” That flat tone sets me on edge. It’s far more disturbing than when she was screaming at me.

“I want you to say that you’re all right. You know I’ll always take care of you. Tell me, Abigail. Tell me you’re mine.” The last is rough with something like desperation.

Her next breath shudders as she inhales, but that’s the only sound she makes.

“Answer me,” I command.

“I’ve never been less safe in my life.”

Her whispered words are a dagger to my heart.

“No,” I refute. “I will always protect you. Always.”

I’ve killed for her. I would do anything to keep her happy and safe.

Her eyes remain closed, her expression completely blank.

“There’s no one here to protect me from you.”

I reel back as though she’s sucker punched me.

“You can’t mean that.” It’s an order. I won’t tolerate it.

I can’t bear it.

“What do you want me to say, Dane? Just tell me what you want to hear, what you want me to do. You’ve made it crystal clear that my wishes don’t matter. You won.”

I bare my teeth like a cornered animal, but she doesn’t open her eyes to see my anguished expression.

“This was never a battle of wills,” I correct her. “I don’t want to win . I just want you. All of you.”

“And you have me right where you want me. You made sure of that.”

She doesn’t even sound spiteful. That detached tone makes my insides churn.

“Not like this,” I insist.

She has to look at me. She has to come back to me. Because even though she’s right beside me, we’ve never been farther apart.

“I’m sorry I’m a disappointment to you.” Another tear rolls down her cheek.

“You could never disappoint me. You’re everything to me. You’re all that matters. Abigail!”

She flinches and hugs her arms over her bare chest, shivering despite the heat of the bath.

“Two days ago, that would’ve been everything I wanted to hear,” she admits quietly. “You can’t possibly understand how horrific those words are now. You are incapable of understanding.”

“Then explain it to me,” I insist.

Or am I begging?

“I’ve already explained it, and you didn’t want to listen. Instead, you chose to violate me again. You forcibly subdued me to shut me up and make me a compliant, obedient little pet. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“No.” The word is almost a groan. “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, that’s what you got. That’s all I have left. It’s all I can offer you.”

“Abigail…” I choke on her name.

I open my mouth to try again, but a sound deeper in the manor puts me on high alert. Someone is here.

Have the staff returned despite my bribes?

“Daniel! I know you’re here. Come out and face me.”

My chest tightens.

No.

My brother can’t be here. He can’t see her.

Especially not like this.

Not like I’ve…broken her.

The prospect makes me dizzy with nausea.

“Stay here, little dove. I’ll handle this.”

I don’t want to leave her alone right now, but she can’t be part of this confrontation. She’s in a delicate enough state as it is. She doesn’t need to witness a shouting match with my little brother. Or worse.

The last time I saw him, it came to blows.

He was just a kid, and still, he tried to take me on.

That was his mistake. I don’t possess the capacity for mercy, not even when it comes to my own flesh and blood.

Especially not when it comes to them.

I straighten and force myself to walk away from her. She doesn’t protest or make a single sound of complaint when I leave.

She’s probably glad to be rid of me.

Pain knifes through my chest, and for a moment, I think there might be something medically wrong with me. I’ve never felt this before. Surely, it’s a sign of some terrible malady.

But I’m in excellent health.

A heart attack isn’t at all likely.

I rub the center of my chest, straighten my shoulders, and stride out to face my brother.

He’s standing in the corridor, waiting for me. I suppose it’s a small mercy that he didn’t barge into my bedroom. It’s his house, after all. I surrendered my claim over it when I gave up my title and everything that went along with it.

“What do you want, James?” I demand, less coolly composed than usual.

The terrible confrontation with Abigail in the bath has shaken me to my core.

He eyes me up and down, then lets out a low whistle. “What the fuck happened to you? America not treating you well these days? Is that why you’ve come home? You look like shit.”

“And you look like the same spoiled, arrogant little twat I left behind fifteen years ago.”

He was only thirteen years old then, but he has the same dark auburn hair and eyes that match mine. A short beard covers his jaw now, but I still see a boy when I look at him.

His lips curl in a sneer. “Charming, as ever. Is this how you tempted your mystery woman to come to England with you? You must’ve truly swept her off her feet with your silver tongue.

Or is it the family name you’re trying to impress her with?

You must’ve brought her to the estate for a reason.

What’s the problem? Is she not impressed with your massive… ego?”

The way he lingers over the insult makes it very clear that it’s a slight against my manhood.

He knows about Abigail. That’s far more worrying than his barbed comments.

“Who told you about Abigail?” I bark.

I don’t want him to know anything about her, much less the fact that I brought her here against her will.

You kidnapped me, Dane. You drugged me and brought me to another country. Her accusation rakes through my thoughts, shredding me even as I attempt to gather my outward composure.

James’ green eyes are wary on mine now. “You’re different, big brother. I’ve never seen you worked up like this. America has changed you. Or is it her? Abigail, is it?”

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

He takes a quick step back, then shrugs and returns to his nonchalant, spoiled prince posture.

“Fine. Keep her secret. I really don’t care.

I only came to see if you were really here.

I could hardly believe it when the groundskeeper told me this morning that you’d paid him to leave.

Too bad you can’t buy loyalty. You’re not the heir anymore, Daniel. ”

“Yes, that’s the whole point,” I remind him coldly.

I didn’t want to be the fucking heir. I refused to perform for them, to fit into the neat, small little box my parents designed for me. The cage they built with money and a “proud” lineage.

“But you’re back,” James counters. “Why?”

I hear Abigail moving around the bathroom: soft clatters of scented soap and the spray of warm water.

“Tea?” I ask blandly, gesturing in the direction of the grand staircase. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

“I thought you’d never ask. I assumed you’d forgotten your manners.”

Tea is always appropriate in England, even when verbally sparring with one of my oldest enemies. We can be civilized while utterly eviscerating one another.