Page 5 of Compulsion

In this moment, I decide that I love the way he says my full name. I don’t want him to call me Abby. Despite the formality, it feels intimate; something I share only with him.

My heart gives a weak flutter, and the giddy reaction is so much sweeter than the horrific shredding sensation that’s tormented me all morning. I try again to lift my lips at the corners, and this time, my facial muscles cooperate.

I smooth my apron and touch the unicorn pin like a talisman: a reminder of the whimsical, joyful energy I choose to embody in the new life I’ve established for myself in Charleston.

“Better, thanks,” I reply truthfully.

“Good.”

God, that smile. He’s always been too painfully perfect to look directly at him, but now that I’m caught in the full force of that cocky grin, I can’t tear my gaze away.

“Are you feeling well enough to go out to dinner with me tonight?”

“What?”

His hand is still on my shoulder, grounding me far more effectively than the therapeutic technique of focusing on my five senses. Despite the fact that I no longer feel like I’m going to be sick, my brain is still too scrambled to fully process the fact that he’s asking me out.

For months, it’s felt safe to fantasize about him because he’s too gorgeous and refined to ever consider as a real possibility. He’s an untouchable prince, but I’ve crafted my secret rakish villain to wear his face when I’m alone in my bed. This invitation for a date seems impossible.

Not to mention, he’s a customer, and I shouldn’t date customers.

“You heard me,” he admonishes, but his voice lilts with arrogant amusement. “Have dinner with me.”

His grip on my shoulder tightens ever so slightly.

Gloved hands on my body, roughly groping and exploring my curves as though he has every right. A cloying scent of cheap amber aftershave makes the air sickeningly thick, so that it clogs in my constricted throat. That awful skull leers at me as he takes what he wants…

I jerk away from Dane, wrenching free from his hold. My stomach hollows out at the loss even as I gasp in a breath of humid air.

I can’t be near a man right now, especially not the man I’ve secretly fantasized about. His allure is messing with my head when I need to hold the shattered fragments of my soul together in the wake of a horrific attack.

No one knows what happened to me last night. I barely speak to my family anymore, and my friends don’t need to know my shame.

There’s no point calling the cops when the masked invader made me orgasm. Some part of me got off on it. The dark pleasure had been keen enough to cut deeper than the knife that’d threatened me.

I’m too fucked up, too broken, to be with a charming man like Dane.

“I can’t,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry.”

He calls after me, but before my name fully leaves his sensual lips, I spin on my heel and duck back into the café to finish my shift.

I act as though this is a normal day, and I manage to lose myself in rote, mundane tasks. Tonight, I’ll get drunk with Franklin so that I won’t be tempted to paint.

Because if I pick up a brush, I know the erotic horror that will spill out onto my canvas.

3

DANE

She’s not painting tonight. And if I wasn’t fully aware that her male friend is dating someone else, I might be tempted to violence.

His name is Franklin, and he showed up at her apartment with a cheap bottle of red wine two hours ago. He lives upstairs from her, his own cramped one-bedroom just as shabby as hers, but slightly tidier.

I know because I checked in on his place when he was out one day, only to find a picture of him kissing a handsome man framed on his nightstand. That same man enters this building and spends the night every weekend.

They seem to be in a committed relationship. I don’t have to worry about Franklin’s hands on my Abigail when they’re tucked away in her apartment.

Still, I don’t like how they drink wine together for hours. I know they often watch cheesy animated musicals together. But does she share her secrets with him? How much does he know about this woman who is my obsession and my greatest mystery?

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