Her Guardian Angel (Fire and Snow)(13)

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Kelly let her body sag against the door as she heard him go back down the stairs. Something was wrong, different than normal. He'd been in a worse mood than usual when he'd come home for starters. As soon as he'd stalked through the front door he'd been on her mother, dragged her down the stairs by her hair. Kelly's body shuddered with revulsion. She'd run to her room and stayed there--leaving the door open just a crack so she would know when they returned. But her mother hadn't returned. Her screams stopped suddenly short minutes before he stormed up the stairs wearing just an old pair of jeans--that were splattered with fresh blood. His bare chest was also splattered. Ice ran through her veins as he prowled over to the kitchen and poured himself a drink...something he normally made her mother do for him, if it was anything other than beer. Kelly had closed the door at that point.

She stopped breathing as she realized her mother must be dead. The bastard must have finally pushed too far and killed her. She sobbed as grief for her mother overwhelmed her. As her body shook from the force of her grief, a more frightening thought entered her mind. Her mother was gone, no longer useful to him, but she was still here; she had no delusions about the fact he would happily begin to use her. She cried harder, for her and for her mother, as she curled up on her bed. She knew, deep in her soul, her already crappy life was about to take a drastic turn straight over a cliff.

Kelly jumped in fright, quickly curling herself into a tighter ball, pushing her back up against the wall as she heard him crash through her bedroom door so hard it must have come off it's hinges. She peeked through her fingers at him: he was stalking toward her, grinning a horrible sinister looking smile she new meant evil bad things would be happening to her soon. If the grin didn't give his intent away, the glint in his cold hazel eyes certainly did. She cringed as he ran his hand gently through her black curls. He roughly grabbed a handful, yanking her off the bed to her feet. As she gasped in shock and pain he grabbed the front of her thin shirt in his fist and ripped it from her body. He repeated the performance with her thin cotton shorts and undies.

"You won't need them where you're going." His voice was hard, dripping with venom.

Through her tears Kelly watched him look over her body, making her feel dirty and violated.

As he dragged her out of her room, her heart pounded hard. He opened the door to the stairs and dragged her down; she couldn't hear anything other than the loud rapid beating of her heart. At the bottom he thrust her into one of the rooms. She stopped short, frozen in horror.

Blood. So much blood. It was splattered all over the wall and had pooled on the floor. There were older dark brown stains and fresh bright red ones. Her mother must be dead, surely no one could lose that much and survive. While she stood there frozen, he let go of her and moved away from her for a minute. When he returned he was standing in front of her with the collar he'd kept on her mother. She saw all the stains, both old and new, left by her mother's blood.

"You are mine now little slave. I am going to train you to be the perfect slave and you will be perfect and strong and you Will. Never. Leave. Me."

Kelly felt all her blood drain from her head and her mind spun out of control. She fell to her knees and let the darkness consume her as the horror of his words took over her mind.





Chapter Four

Dominic showered and dressed as fast as he could. He needed to get to Adele before she left work for the day. He'd gone around on Wednesday night. He'd asked her out to celebrate her first day of work but she'd politely turned him down with a quiet smile. It was her quiet smile that gave him hope. She could feel their bond. She was just fighting it. So, now it was Friday night, the end of her shift. He knew she had the weekend off--Kit had been feeding him information. She would say yes. He wouldn't accept anything else. She was his mate; he knew she could feel the connection between them and if only she would stop fighting it they could get somewhere. He'd been waiting four long years for her and he really didn't want to wait any more. Tonight she would be tired, worn out and hopefully not in the mood to cook tea--or fight the attraction between them. He was sure of it. He bolted out of the locker room in a rush to the soundtrack of the rest of the crew laughing and cat calling. He figured his face must look like he felt: like a cat that ate the canary. Not that he cared. He was off to catch his mate.

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Dominic stood silently by the door, watching his mate. She was so graceful; she glided around the office as she readied things to leave. He watched as she flopped exhausted into her chair with a sigh. She scrubbed her hands over her face. Damn, she looked totally worn out. He smiled. His plan would definitely work; no way did she feel like cooking dinner tonight. From the looks of things, she didn't look up to driving home, let alone function well enough to cook. She leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed. Dominic's instincts came roaring to life. The need to care for his mate had him knocking on the doorframe before he was aware he had moved.