Page 36 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

twenty-nine

Soren

Vin's hands on my shoulders are working magic, chasing away the tension that's been lingering all day.

They're also chasing chills down my body, my nipples pebbling beneath the slinky fabric of my sheer nightie.

I'm aching for him to touch me lower, to try and ease some of the need coiled deep in my womb.

Trying to conceive made me want to have sex often, to increase our chances. But now that I'm actually pregnant, I've been craving his touch, his affection, his cock.

I know he isn't attracted to me right now.

He warned me long ago that he doesn't understand why, but he's grossed out by the thought of doing anything while I'm pregnant, despite my attempts to explain that the anatomy doesn't work the way he seems to think it does.

Maybe because I know he doesn't want me, I've wanted him more.

I'm worried that he'll need to find someone to meet his needs by the time I have the baby.

Nine months is a long time to go without sex, and then I'll have to add another six weeks for recovery after that.

Will he really be able to wait all that time?

And yet, tonight he seems more attracted to me than he has in months, his breath heavy on my neck, his lips pressing kisses there in between massaging me. I came home to him having made dinner, drawn up a bath for me, and now this.

It's blissful, and I can feel the luxury lulling me into the arms of sleep as he eases the discomfort. My eyes flutter a few times, and I do my best to stay awake, because I know if I don't, this intimacy will splinter, and I don't know when we'll get it back.

The doorbell ringing pulls my eyes open, but it takes me a moment to realize exactly what it was. Vin pauses with his hands on my shoulders, like he's also wondering whether he heard that. And then the doorbell chimes again, assuring us of what it is.

I don't know what time it is, but it seems too late for visitors.

I groan as he slides out from behind me.

"I'll be right back." He assures me with an easy grin. "Drink your water."

I smile back at him, appreciating this sudden nurturing side of my husband.

Vin's typically all man, not the kind of guy who thinks about making sure his wife stays hydrated.

He usually prefers me after a glass of wine, but as that's a no-go now that there's a baby to consider, he's had to deal with me being sharper.

The meds I've been on for the last two years since my first episode, I had to give up.

Withdrawing from them has been less than enjoyable.

Everything feels too sharp and raw all the time, something I'm told could very well just be the hormones.

It's left me more on edge than ever before, as I walk around feeling like there's a rain cloud over my head waiting to burst open.

I drink my water, just as he says, and feel my eyes getting heavier again, the world getting quiet as sleep tries to pull me under.

Pregnancy is exhausting, especially for someone with chronic exhaustion to begin with. But I'm stubborn if nothing else, so I stand, deciding to stretch my legs and try to wake myself up.

When I move to the steps, I brace a hand against the wall to make sure I don't trip in my tiredness.

Vin stands at the front door, which is wide open. But he's not alone. Another man stands there, dressed all in black, a ski mask pulled over his face.

I blink, trying to decide what's happening. It takes a moment for the sleepy feeling to wane as alarm bells ring somewhere in the back of my mind.

It's March in Chicago. It's cold, sure, but not quite cold enough for that attire.

"Vin?"

His name feels strange on my tongue, which seems too heavy.

I don’t feel right.

The word draws the attention of both figures at the bottom of the step, and when the eyes behind that ski mask connect with mine, something in my stomach tells me to run.

Half a second after I have the thought, he lunges toward me, scrambling up the steps at an impossible pace.

I do run, terror leeching through my bones. It pushes away the fog as adrenaline spurs me back the way I came from, back up the three steps I've already taken. Still, terror makes my brain feel fuzzy, and my motions aren't coordinated.

I'm on the top step when a hand wraps around my ankle, attempting to yank me backward, to drag me toward him. Something tells me if he gets hold of me, I'm going to die tonight, so I use all of the energy I can muster to kick out at him.

My foot connects with something, and it's enough that he loses his grip on me just long enough for me to slide out from him.

I dart for my bedroom, where my phone is still on the nightstand.

I've just burst through the doorframe, grabbing the door to try and slam it shut behind me, when he forces his way through it.

I back away from him, trying to put as much space between us as possible while also not making it obvious that I'm going for the phone.

"What do you want?" I manage to speak around the sob building in my throat. I move slowly back as he moves steadily forward, cornering me.

He doesn't answer, and I decide I'll have to try and outrun him to the phone. I turn to dive for it, but he gets me around the knees, taking me to the ground with him.

My breath escapes me in a rush as I fall to the ground; pain explodes in my ribs, my stomach. His bodyweight over mine makes me gasp so that when he leans away just enough to let me gulp air into my lungs, I'm relieved.

The relief is short lived, because he flips me beneath him, rolling me like I'm weightless so that I look up at him.

His weight traps me again as he leans over me and tears the straps of my top down my shoulders, making quick work of exposing me and proving his intentions.

He doesn’t have to tell me what he wants. He’s showing me.

“No!”

I try to squirm out from beneath him, to get free, but a hand closes around one of my nipples and pinches hard.

"No!" I scream, because I know what's going to happen.

I can see the violence still to come, hard in his eyes, two dark orbs that peer out at me from behind that mask.

"Vin!" I scream, trying anything to twist away from the touch, the knees straddling my chest, the weight pressing on my stomach and putting pressure on my bladder.

This can't be happening.

This can't be real.

I'm in a nightmare.

I fell asleep when Vin was massaging me, and this is all just an awful dream.

But it's not. The pain tells me it's not when his hand flies across my face, and my head falls back against the floor, stunned by the sudden blow. Heat stings against my cheek, and my bones ache from the force of it, something between a slap and a punch.

For a moment, every nerve in my body is focused on that pain. But it's quickly rewired when I feel his hands on my hips, dragging my sleep shorts and panties down my thighs.

No. No no no.

I do everything I can to get away.

I roll like an alligator, I twist my upper body in a desperate attempt to flip away from him, I flail every limb that isn't being pinned down by his weight on my thighs, which shifts for half a second as he shoves my shorts past them, exposing more of me to him.

I take that half a second and flip, my nails dragging against the floor as I try to use the leverage to pull myself away from him, anything to get away.

But his weight never leaves me. It just shifts, and now he uses it to pin me flat against the ground, fingers digging into the back of my neck as he presses against my skull hard enough that the vision in my left eye blurs from the pressure.

"Vin!” I choke. Help!"

"Shut the fuck up!" The voice is gruff, deeper than any I've ever heard and muffled by the material of the balaclava as it presses against my ear. I can feel hot breath through the material, heavy inhalations. It crawls over my body, deepening the dread over what this stranger’s intentions are.

"Shut the fuck up and take it if you want to live. "

I don't have to think about what that means.

There's no mistaking what he means for me to take, because I feel his hands on the back of my bare legs, feel him move my leg to the side, spreading me open.

The fingers that grope between my thighs are thick and dry, and when he forces them inside of me, they feel like they're going to carve out my soul.

"Vin!"

It's all I can think to do, to call for my husband. To beg for help, for an end to what’s coming.

Vin is the one who makes everything right, the one who always makes everything alright. And yet, he isn't coming.

"He can't fucking help you." The man grunts, and then I hear a click as something presses against the back of my skull, nestling in the soft space just above my neck. "Now don't make another fucking sound."

I freeze, fully aware of what it is despite the fact that I've never had a gun to my head before this. There's just no mistaking the feel of the heavy metal pressed against me, or the meaning. ‘Stay quiet while I take what I want or I’ll pull the trigger’.

The first sob leaves my throat when I hear the belt clang open, and I realize there's no escaping.

My body comes to grips with the reality of what's about to happen before my brain does.

"Please..." I beg, softly, in case that helps him be more patient, willing to hear me out, to stop before it goes too far. "Please don’t do this. My baby…” My voice fractures on a sob. “I'm pregnant."

The only response I get is a laugh so cruel that it shatters something inside of me.

The weight of the gun presses deeper into the back of my head, and he uses the threat of it to guide my face back down, pressing my forehead against the wood floor as he rustles around behind me. The hand that was inside me disappears.

I know better than to be relieved.

But relief is what I feel when I hear Vin's voice. It’s sharp and almost violent when it bursts through me.

"What the fuck?"

He's alive.

He's alive, and he's going to save me. Me and our baby.

"Don't you fucking dare." Vin growls.