Page 81 of Compulsion

I can’t do more than nod mutely.

“Tell me what’s happening,” he commands sharply.

“Ron…” His name is all I can force past the lump in my throat before the horrors of my past overwhelm me.

“I’ll be there soon,” he promises darkly. “Are you in your apartment? Is the door locked? Answer me, Abigail.”

“Yes,” I whisper, compelled to obey.

“Stay right where you are. Breathe. Just keep breathing. That’s all you have to do until I get there, understand?”

I heave in a painful breath that’s like a knife through my chest.

He must hear my attempt to comply because he praises, “Good girl. Another. Just focus on your breath.”

His voice is my anchor to reality, preventing me from getting lost in awful memories. He continues to talk me through my terror, commanding each of my ragged breaths.

At some point, the hall outside goes quiet, and my door stops vibrating on its hinges. Ron has given up.

I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear Dane’s voice at the door. It takes a second for me to realize that it’s not coming through my phone.

“Let me in, Abigail.”

I have to grab the doorknob to haul myself up onto my shaking legs, but I manage to unlock the door. It swings opento reveal my dark god, his heartbreaking face drawn in sharp, vicious lines of rage.

But his hands are gentle when he cups my cheeks, inspecting my face for signs of injury.

“He didn’t hurt me,” I say through numb lips. “I hurt him. That’s why he was so angry.”

Dane steps inside and scoops me up in his arms. He carries me into my bedroom in a few long, confident strides and lays me down on my bed. It’s small, but he wraps his massive body around mine and pulls me close enough that we both fit.

I’m shaking, and he strokes my body in soothing caresses, imbuing me with his steady warmth.

After a while, my breaths come easier, and I melt into him, utterly wrung out and exhausted.

“Tell me what happened.” It’s a low order, and I’m compelled to reply.

“Ron cornered me in the laundry room again. I told him to leave me alone, but he wouldn’t.”

“Did he touch you?” The question rumbles like thunder.

“He…kissed me.” I manage to speak through the nausea that surges at the visceral memory of his rank breath.

Dane’s fingers flex into my arms, his entire body tensing with unspent violence.

“But I fought him off.” Dimly, I marvel at the fact. I still can’t believe I managed to kick him instead of freezing.

But I didn’t freeze. I didn’t let him take advantage of my body.

And it’s all because of Dane. Because in my most panicked moment, I thought of him, and I knew he would never allow another man to touch me.

He wasn’t there to save me, so I had to save myself.

I did it for him.

I did it for me.

“I’m yours,” I promise, turning to face him so that he can read the depth of my devotion in my open gaze.

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