After the Storm(166)

            He walked around her in a tight circle, pacing the living room of the cabin he’d taken her to. Her knees wobbled but by sheer grit alone she managed to remain standing. Defiant.

            He paused and let a finger trail down the curve of her cheek. She turned away, not wanting him to touch her, and he issued another slap.

            It wasn’t as hard as the last. She stumbled back but managed to regain her footing before she hit the floor again.

            Her entire face ached. It was on fire from his repeated abuse. But this she could manage. It was only pain. What she couldn’t face was him touching her. Him being intimate with her. Nausea curled low in her belly and her mouth watered. She swallowed, choking it back.

            He wouldn’t break her. He wouldn’t!

            “Are you prepared to give me what I want?” he asked.

            Her gaze snapped to his, fire in her eyes. “Go to hell.”

            Rage burned a trail though his eyes, and then they turned cold.

            “You don’t learn,” he said softly. “But you will, Eve. You’ll learn that you will pay for defying me. I can be a patient man. You will agree to what I want.”

            “Never!”

            He smiled then, and it chilled Eve’s blood. “We’ll see how quickly you change your mind when I make a vegetable out of you. Perhaps after a few days in the institution you’ll see the error of your ways. It’s an honor I’m bestowing on you. You’re a fool to continue with this resistance. You won’t win. I’ll have you, Eve. And I’ll have Travis and Cammie.”

            “You’ll never get near them,” she hissed. “He’ll never allow it. He’ll kill you.”

            Walt’s eyebrows went up. “The lover who fucked you over? Your faith in him surprises me.”

            “Go to hell.”

            His eyes narrowed as fury reddened his face. “No, Eve, but you will. You’re going right to hell. Before I’m finished with you, you’ll welcome my attentions. You’ll beg to get in my bed.”

            “Never.”

            The quiet vow fell between them. She lifted her head, staring at him through painful, swollen eyes.

            His lips thinned and tightened, and then he lifted his hand, motioning for someone beyond her.

            Fear and panic exploded through her veins as another man advanced on her, a syringe in his hand. She whirled, looking for an escape. Some way out of her circumstances.

            Walt wrapped his hand in her hair and yanked her up short. His breath blew harshly over her face. His eyes glittered with sick arousal. The bastard was getting off on what he planned to do to her.

            Realization settled over her like a suffocating fog. Once drugged, she had no power. He could do anything he wanted, even rape her, and she would be helpless to prevent it.

            She fought back wildly, surprising him with her strength. Desperation lent her more than she possessed. She broke away and ran for the doorway. She was nearly there when she hit the floor, pain blistering through her.

            Walt’s heavy body pinned her, his chest rising and falling with exertion. And then he laughed.

            “I like a good fight,” he murmured. “Your mother never fought. She was too weak, too spineless. But you, Eve? Ah, I look forward to having you in my bed. I have a feeling it will always be a fight with you.”

            She felt the prick of a needle. Felt the surge of medication forced into her body. Tears burned her eyelids. There was no escape. He could do anything he wanted with her.