Page 25 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

ABIGAIL

“ W here are we going?” I ask warily.

Dane has been enigmatic about our destination, and his teasing non-answers are starting to grate on me.

“Back to Charleston?” I ask, but I don’t sound as hopeful as I should.

I tell myself that’s because it’s highly unlikely, not because some part of me doesn’t want to leave this peaceful space I’ve found with him. As long as I don’t think too hard about going home, I’m able to indulge my growing, irrational desire to stay with him, despite everything he’s done.

“Do we look like we’re dressed for travel?” he drawls, shooting me an unbearably sexy smirk from the driver’s seat of the sleek black Porsche.

I huff an exasperated breath, and he chuckles.

He’s wearing a sharply tailored tux, and he’s dressed me in a daring silk gown. The neckline drops down almost to my navel in a deep V, and he’s chosen a gorgeous purple tone that’s so dark it’s almost black. I didn’t argue when he gave me the obviously expensive garment. We’re past that now.

I’m so tired of arguing with him, and I believe him when he says that his gifts don’t come with strings attached. After his intense revelations about his abusive family and his choice to walk away from them, I know he would never try to control me like that.

And he’d wanted to hurt my parents for their controlling behavior. I’d had to make him promise not to go after them if I revealed the depth of their cruelty.

This isn’t about controlling you. It never has been. I want to take care of you.

I didn’t understand him when he made that fierce declaration, but I know him better now. I see him: the devoted lover and the fierce protector. And I see the pain that shaped him into a selfish psychopath who learned to turn off his emotions entirely in order to protect himself.

That side of him doesn’t scare me anymore.

“We’re almost there,” he promises.

“Almost where?” I demand, irritated and more than a little nervous. Anxiety tightens my stomach, and a familiar, giddy thrill races through me at the hint of fear.

“You’ll see.”

“Dane.”

“Abigail.”

I throw up my hands and ignore the way that stern, deep tone makes my core heat.

We’ve been driving through the countryside on a narrow, winding road for nearly an hour, and the sun is setting.

The headlights turn on, illuminating a twilight-dim turn onto an even narrower driveway. We pass through open iron gates.

Is this another family estate?

After a further five-minute drive, we slow behind a line of other cars. Ahead, the vehicles curve around a circular driveway in front of a grand, sprawling house that almost rivals the Graham family manor.

My jaw drops.

He’s going to take me somewhere public? Where I could ask someone for help?

I narrow my eyes at him. The arrogant bastard must think I’m beyond that now. He must’ve decided that I don’t want to escape from him.

I cross my arms over my chest.

Don’t I?

I’m no longer sure if I do, but my heart longs to return home to Charleston.

I can’t stay in this surreal state with Dane forever.

No matter how much I’m coming to care for him, I can’t just abandon my life.

I won’t live to suit his every whim. If I choose to stay with him, that’s not how it will be between us.

He’s insisted that he wants me so many times. Not a mindless, obedient pet.

He hasn’t even called me pet in weeks, not since I crashed the Jeep during my escape attempt.

I almost miss the kinky endearment.

I press my lips together to hold in further questions. I’m not sure what I want to say.

And I’m not sure what I’ll do once I’m surrounded by people who could possibly help me get back home to Charleston.

Without Dane.

We come to a brief stop behind a yellow Lamborghini.

He takes the opportunity to turn toward me and grasps my hand. He lifts it to his lips and brushes a gentlemanly kiss over my knuckles. For a moment, he’s my dashing, perfect prince again: the man I fell for all those weeks ago.

Then his wicked grin reminds me that he’s a rakish villain, too.

They’re both the same man. Exactly how I used to fantasize about him when he was just a customer, an untouchable, beautiful god.

His thumb brushes my palm. “I trust you, Abigail. I trust in us. ”

My heart skips a beat.

If I betray him now, he’ll end up in prison. I’ll never see him again.

The thought makes my stomach knot.

“You’ll need this,” he says, releasing my hand.

I instantly miss the reassuring warmth of his tender touch. My fingers furl and unfurl, as though grasping for him.

His attention is on something in the glove box, so he doesn’t see my involuntary, embarrassing display of desperation.

Something glints in his hand: a golden masquerade mask.

His soft fingers brush my cheeks as he lifts it to my face, and his touch is so alluring that I don’t try to pull away when he fixes my mask in place.

It covers my features from my cheekbones to my brows.

Someone who knows me well could probably recognize me, but a stranger won’t be able to make out all of my features.

Dane puts on his own mask. Unlike mine, it’s black, but it glints dully like carbonite. It only covers the upper half of his face as well, but it’s been molded to subtly mirror the shape of a skull.

He looks like a beautiful demon, some sort of terrifying incubus that’s designed to lure me in and ravage me.

My mind flashes back to a different night when he donned a skull mask. It’d been stark white, and it’d completely concealed his face.

I shiver, but I can’t stop staring at him: my dark god.

“Are you frightened?” he asks, voice low and intimate.

“Yes.” The affirmation shudders from my chest.

“Are you turned on?”

My cheeks heat, and I glance away, hiding from him. Hiding from the truth.

Two fingers curl beneath my chin, and he redirects my gaze to his. In the dim lighting, his eyes are almost black, enhancing his aura of otherworldly danger.

My heartbeat ticks up a notch, and I feel an answering pulse between my legs.

“What are we doing here?” I ask instead of answering his lewd question.

He traces the shape of my mouth with his thumb, and my lips tingle with sensual awareness.

“I’m going to remind you of how it should be between us. I’m going to give you what you really want.”

“Dane…” His name is a protest. I can’t bear it if he forces himself on me again.

“You have your safe word,” he promises. “Use it, and everything will stop.”

I shake my head, so he cups my cheeks to still the sign of my fearful denial.

“Tell me that what we’ve shared over the last two weeks has been enough for you,” he challenges gently. “Tell me you don’t want me to take control. You don’t want me to ravage you.”

My chest tightens. It’s been blissful to be back in his arms, to have him inside me. But I haven’t experienced the transcendent ecstasy that once consumed me.

But that was before I knew what he did to me. Before I knew how dangerous he truly is.

“I will never hurt you,” he reminds me. “Trust me.”

“Dane, I…” I can’t find the right words. My mind sticks on the decision.

It’s foolish to give in to this, to give in to him. He’s my stalker. My kidnapper.

And yet, I know deep in my bones that he’ll do anything to keep me safe. Even from himself.

He brushes another kiss over my knuckles. “It’s your choice.”

We’ve reached the front of the line of cars. He gets out, circles the Porsche, and opens my door for me. A valet takes his keys, and Dane places his hand at the small of my back.

Butterflies beat their delicate wings in my stomach, a slightly desperate, fearful thrill.

He pauses and snaps his fingers. “How could I forget?”

The slightly cruel tilt to his smile tells me that he didn’t forget at all; this moment is designed to keep me on edge.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my black leather collar with rose gold accents. The one that used to mark me as his submissive. And he was my master.

I try to take a step back, but his strong arm snakes around my lower back, trapping me. He pulls me in close, and his murmured words are hot on my neck.

“Are you going to be a good girl and lift your hair for me? Or am I going to have to pin you down to lock your collar around your pretty throat? One way or another, you’ll accept it. You’ll accept me .”

My lips part in shock, and I stare up into his glittering green eyes that peer through the black skull mask.

“It’s your choice,” he says again, but there’s a mocking lilt to his tone this time.

I can’t allow him to physically subdue me like that. I can’t bear it. Especially not when there are other people around to witness my degradation.

My hands shake as I lift my hair, but I glare at him with open defiance.

He grins. “There’s my fierce pet. You’re being such a good girl for me now. When will you show your claws?”

“I’m not playing this game with you,” I hiss.

I can’t.

Not after what he’s done to me. Not after that awful scene in my studio, when he forced orgasms from my unwilling body.

He drops a kiss on my chilled lips, and the ice that was beginning to frost my skin melts away.

His hands encircle my throat, and smooth leather touches my neck. The familiar feel of it buckling into place is bittersweet, and tumultuous emotions surge.

I can’t do this. I can’t want this.

But I don’t fight when he slips the delicate padlock through the metal loop at the back of the buckle. It clicks closed, and the collar seems to meld to my skin, becoming part of me. As though it belongs there.

As though I belong to him.

I’m so absorbed by my internal conflict that I barely register the glint of silver before the cuff closes around my right wrist.

“What are you?—”

The question dies in my throat when I see him lock the matching cuff around his left wrist. We’re tethered together by a short chain.

“You’re not going anywhere, pet.”

I straighten my shoulders. “You can’t do this to me. I won’t walk into a room full of strangers wearing a collar and handcuffs.”