Page 4 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

ABIGAIL

Now

I waver in and out of consciousness, completely disoriented. I’m only semi-lucid for a few minutes at a time before I feel the prick of the needle, and the world dissolves again.

Dane is placing me in a plush seat and buckling me in. The floor tilts, and I dimly register the sound of a plane taking off. One big hand rests against the side of my head, gently urging me to lean on his shoulder. My eyelids droop, and I breathe in his spicy cedarwood scent as I float away.

Dane’s strong hands are on me, lifting me as though I’m a doll. Then I’m seated again, but the world is sliding past me. Or I’m rolling forward. My head swims, so I close my eyes and drift.

“Abigail is my patient.” I register Dane’s accent, smooth and cultured as ever. “The flight was difficult for her after the procedure, so I gave her something to help manage the pain. I have her passport here.”

My eyes flutter open, and I squint against harsh, sterile light. The uniformed officer looms over me, and I realize I’m still seated.

The man doubles in my blurred vision. He’s looking down at the two passports on the desk between us.

Something heavy settles on my shoulder: Dane’s hand. A reassurance? Or a warning?

Distant fear twists my belly, a fleeting twinge.

The officer glances up at Dane, then nods deferentially. “Welcome home, Lord Graham.”

“My father is Lord Graham,” Dane says smoothly, all charm and self-deprecating grace. “I’m just Dane.”

The officer glances at me. “You’re in good hands, miss. Get well soon.”

A soft whimper catches in my throat. I don’t understand what’s happening or where I am, and my chest is getting too tight to draw in full breaths.

“It’s all right,” Dane soothes as the world starts to roll by me again. “We’ll get you more meds as soon as we’re out of the airport.”

The rolling sensation makes my stomach turn. I close my eyes to hold back my rising nausea.

I barely feel the needle sliding into my neck, and then everything is warm and dark.

Dane’s massive body cradles mine, and his unique, masculine scent enfolds me. I breathe him in, and calm settles over me. His deft fingers trail through my hair, skating over the silken strands in a soothing rhythm that lulls me into relaxation.

I’m somewhere between sleep and waking. Being with him like this feels like the sweetest dream, and I distantly marvel that this is real: my dark god is holding me like I’m his precious possession.

You were meant to be mine. His fierce declaration rumbles through my thoughts, and my gut tightens.

You love me. His remembered words hold the ring of command.

As though I don’t have a choice in loving him.

My stomach knots, and my muscles tense.

He shushes me gently and continues stroking my hair in that hypnotic rhythm. I squeeze my eyes shut, longing to stay in the peaceful space with the man I love.

I’ll keep you safe, Abigail. I will do anything to protect you.

A sharp image coalesces in my mind: Dane, covered in mud and a crimson spray that I don’t want to contemplate.

He’d promised to protect me while his heartbreaking face had been splattered with blood.

And then…

A strong hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my scream for help. The familiar pressure of Dane’s arm catching my vulnerable throat tightens, restricting my blood flow to my brain. I’m floating, but it’s not a peaceful surrender. He’s smothering me, subduing me.

The horrific memory layers over another dark night, the one that shattered my soul…

A gloved hand covers my nose and mouth, smothering my ability to draw breath.

The shadows of my apartment close in, drawing me down into darkness.

A low curse rumbles at my ear, and I’m suddenly released from the cruel grip.

Oxygen floods my system, and my knees buckle. Strong arms catch me before I fall.

Dane’s arms.

He’s the masked man who violated me. He’s GentAnon, my online confidante.

In all of those late-night correspondences with my anonymous, kinky kindred spirit, I revealed my most illicit, fucked-up fantasies.

And he made them come true.

You liked it. You came all over my hand.

The awful truth rakes at my heart with sharp black claws, and I choke on a painful gasp.

My first instinct is to jolt away from Dane, but I can already feel his bulky muscles coiling around me like a snake, ready to trap me in his perverse embrace.

I force myself to draw in a deep breath and keep my eyes closed.

Disassociation comes easily. My mind goes mercifully blank, and my breaths come more naturally as I sink into nothingness.

My body shuts down as though I was designed for this, and I’m too far gone to feel disgust over it.

It’s always been an act of self-preservation, a way to survive the horror of violation.

But I don’t intend to surrender this time.

I allow the habitual disassociation to relax my body and shield my mind from the terror that hovers just at the edges of my thoughts. In response, Dane’s powerful body relaxes around mine. He’s satisfied at my submission, and he doesn’t expect me to try to evade him.

I have to figure out where I am. I have dim, disjointed memories of a flight and an airport. He was holding my passport, back in that awful shrine to me in the powder blue house.

I’m not in Charleston.

Before I blacked out, he mentioned a journey home.

My stomach churns at the suspicion that he’s taken me out of the country, but I breathe through it and resolutely remain detached from my tumultuous emotions.

“Where are we?” My voice is soft and oddly flat.

Dane caresses my cheek, but I keep my eyes closed. I can’t risk losing my tenuous, twisted form of serenity until I know more about my situation.

“We’re in my family home in Yorkshire,” he replies. “You’ll be safe here.”

Safe from who? The irate question flits at the periphery of my quiet bubble, and I choose to sink deeper into numbness.

“Don’t worry, little dove. I’ll take care of you.”

Bile burns the back of my throat at the endearment; it’s GentAnon’s endearment for me.

The terrible reminder of what Dane really is shakes me to my core, and I suppress a shudder of pure revulsion.

“My friends will wonder where I am,” I say, still soft and detached. “I can’t be here.”

He strokes my hair as though I’m an animal that could spook at the first sign of danger; as though I’m his pet, and he’s keeping me calm.

“I used your phone to text Franklin. He knows you’re on an extended vacation with me. And you don’t need to worry about your barista job anymore. You can spend all of your time painting now.”

My lungs seize for a moment, and I force in another breath.

“Stacy will expect me at the café,” I try to reason.

“She’s already accepted your notice.” He says it like a reassurance, not a trap. “She’s been worried about you, and she didn’t even try to demand that you come in for your final two weeks. You’re free, Abigail.”

His declaration would be laughable if my situation weren’t so horrific.

I’m caged in Dane’s corded arms, and he’s whisked me off to another country.

I’m an ocean away from my friends, and my family won’t bother to ask after me.

He’s easily extricated me from my life in Charleston with a few messages from my phone.

Finally, I open my eyes to fully assess where he’s trapped me. I know now that I’m isolated from anyone who might care to check on me.

He’s behind me, one arm pillowing my head while the other is loosely draped over my waist. He could tighten those powerful arms in an instant, so it’s imperative that I remain calm.

I blink and look at my surroundings. I’m in an opulent bedroom, and I instinctively know that this house is from another era.

Everything is impeccably arranged. The furnishings are obviously antiques, and the cream wallpaper is decorated with vines and delicate birds—a style that’s clearly not contemporary.

Dane said this is his family home, and I remember that he told me he comes from nobility. This house is likely grand, which means I’ll probably struggle to find my way out quickly.

But if I can make it far enough away from him to scream for help, surely someone will hear. Someone will find me and take me away from the monster who’s holding me so tenderly.

I’m lying on a massive four-poster bed with intricate carvings on the dark mahogany. There’s a matching nightstand just in my line of vision, and a heavy brass lamp with a stained-glass shade sits atop it.

The door to the room is farther away, at least ten long strides across the patterned blue and gold rug.

I have to get out. I don’t know the layout of this house, and I don’t know how far away I am from someone who might help me.

But I have to get away from Dane before he drugs me again. Or before he violates me like he did when he was the masked man.

For so many years, I’ve frozen when threatened.

Now, my freedom depends on fighting back.

I surface from my disassociated state like I’ve broken through a heavy wave, and the world comes into sharp focus.

My hand shoots out, and my fingers close around the brass lamp.

I twist in Dane’s hold just as his arms begin to tense around me.

I can’t afford to hesitate, not even when his gorgeous eyes flare with something like betrayal.

The stained-glass lampshade smashes against the side of his head, and his grip around me loosens.

I scramble free and leap off the bed, racing for the door.

I’m in the hallway when he bellows my name like an enraged beast.

My stomach drops. I didn’t hit him hard enough. He’s coming after me.

His lumbering steps stomp behind me, uneven at first, then quickening to match mine.

“Abigail!”

Regal portraits flicker by me on either side like I’m running through an aged film reel. There’s a grand staircase at the end of the hall, and the light is brighter there. I dash toward it, breath sawing in and out of my lungs as I push myself impossibly faster.

But his strides are so much longer than mine, and he’s pounding closer with every agonizingly long second. The hallway seems to lengthen, the light growing more distant. A primal scream rips from my chest as I propel myself forward, desperation clawing at my insides.

Someone has to hear. Someone has to help me.

Because I’m out of time.

The first step of the staircase drops beneath me, but before my foot makes contact with the aged wood, the iron band of his arm loops around my waist. He drags me back into his hard chest, and I shriek in terror and defiance.

“Let me go!”

The world tilts, and my belly collides with his shoulder. He lifts me up as though I weigh nothing, and his arm clamps down on my thighs. My legs jerk uselessly in his cruel hold. I can’t get the leverage I need to kick out at him.

I slam my fists into his back and scream out my impotent rage.

I hear the sharp crack of his hand before the answering pain flares on my bottom.

“Calm down,” he growls.

He spanked me. As though I’m a child having a tantrum.

I fight harder, punching his lower back with all my strength. A feral, warning sound rumbles from his chest, but I can’t stop trying to get free.

“There’s no use screaming,” he says, unnervingly matter of fact. “No one will hear you.”

“Because you’re going to drug me again?” I bite back, writhing in his grip.

“No. Because I sent the staff away, and my family summers in Spain. We’re the only two people for miles. Now, calm down.”

A shrill laugh fills the bedroom, and I barely realize I’m making the maddened sound. “ Calm down? You kidnapped me, Dane. You drugged me and brought me to another country. Let me go!”

He obliges me, and my stomach dips as I drop.

The soft mattress cushions my fall, and I immediately try to scramble away from him.

The monster is on me before I move an inch. His long fingers encircle my wrists, shackling them above my head. His other hand curves around my neck, threatening to squeeze if I continue to defy him. The weight of his body pins mine, and I squirm uselessly in his restraining hold.

“I can’t let you go, Abigail.” It’s a calm statement of fact.

His perfect features might as well be carved from ice: frigid and unfeeling. If it weren’t for the way his emerald eyes blaze, I’d think he was completely devoid of human emotion.

Blood trickles down his cheek from a small cut at his brow. I managed to inflict some damage when I struck him with the lamp, but it wasn’t enough to save me.

“I won’t go to the cops,” I promise desperately. “I won’t tell anyone what you did to me. Just let me go home.”

His jaw ticks, and his eyes flare with a dark possessiveness that I recognize all too well.

“I can’t let you go,” he repeats, and it holds the solemn ring of a life sentence.

He’s insane. The man I thought I loved is absolutely insane.

“Get your hands off me, psycho!”

He flinches, but his fingers firm around my neck, choking off my ability to hurl insults at him.

“I never claimed to be sane. I’ve let you see exactly what I am, and you begged for more.”

My lips part on shallow breaths that barely squeeze through my constricted windpipe.

“Please…” I barely manage to whisper the plea.

“You like this, Abigail.” The words are a dagger to my thrumming heart. “You want me. The real me.”

“I don’t know the real you,” I gasp.

I don’t want this monster who’s holding me captive. He’s not the fiercely protective man I fell for.

“Liar,” he accuses coolly.

He releases my throat, and oxygen floods my system.

Horror hollows out my chest when his touch trails lower. One strong hand keeps my wrists above my head, and the other deftly palms my breasts in the way I like best—just hard enough to threaten bruising pain.

My nipples peak against the inside of my bra, and a sickening pulse starts up between my legs.

“No,” I moan in pure revulsion.

He knows my body. I told him my darkest secrets. He lured me into trusting him, and now he confidently manipulates pleasure from my deepest shame.

He’s going to wield it against me like a weapon. It’s far more devastating than the helplessness inflicted by the drugs.

“You do want me.” It’s a command, an edict. “You want it to be this way between us.”

A drop of his blood drips from his tight jaw and sears my cheek. It mingles with my hot tears, and despair swallows me whole.