Page 17 of Brutal Vows

Everyone is gone. I ruined everything when I opened the front door. No one will ever forgive me.

My sister pulled away. My brother blamed me. My father never spoke to me again. My stepfamily destroyed what remained between me and those who were supposed to love me unconditionally.

And now my tormentor abandoned me to die in the frozen hell of loneliness.

It doesn’t matter if Ermanno returns or not. I’ll always remain cold and alone.

It’s what I deserve after all the horrible things I’ve caused throughout my life. No matter what I do, I’ll never erase the pain I’ve caused my sister. Before we even left the womb, I stole from her. She always suffers because of me. If I die protecting her, I might earn the right to ask for her forgiveness, but I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t grant it.

The water turns off. Silence echoes in my mind.

I can’t move. Curled up on my side in the fetal position, the sides of the tub press against my back and knees. Too cold to shiver, I lie like a chunk of ice in the never-ending darkness of my nightmares.

Merciless hands pull the belt away from my eyes. I blink at the white porcelain in front of my face. Thick fingers pinch my jaw and turn my head.

Piercing grey eyes spear into my soul.

A broken sound leaks from my chest as I try to gather the shattered pieces of my mind.

The world spins. Black dots dance in my vision. My soaked clothes cling to my frozen flesh. Adrenaline snaps my senses into the present when Ermanno wraps his massive hands around my shoulders. I push at his arms with my bound hands. His annoyed growl sparks the first hint of warmth into my veins.

Scorching hot arms lift me from the tub and press me against an even hotter chest in a cradle hold. I lean into him even as Ermanno’s disgusted eyes flick over me, my mind needinga moment to shove my nightmares back into their proper compartments. My entire body shakes from the cold as water drips from my drenched frame and patters onto the floor.

I blink and lift a hand to his chest. Intending to push him away, I glare at my wayward hand as my trembling fingers curl around his collar and cling to him. He’s alive. Warm. Larger than life.

His fury thaws the frozen wasteland within me so quickly I reel with shock and confusion. He stomps into a kitchen and drops me in front of the stove. My legs buckle, but he catches me by the hair and shoves me against the counter.

I grunt as my stomach hits the edge. He splays his massive hand over my back and bends me forward, trapping my bound hands against my sternum as he pins me down with terrifying ease. Before I can force my frozen legs to kick back at him, he presses his hips against my ass, and even though he isn’t aroused, alarm spears through me at his overwhelming size. With the toes of my shoes barely reaching the ground and his shin trapping my cuffed ankles to the cabinet, all my efforts result in a pathetic wriggle.

His body is the only warmth left in the world and despite his cruel treatment of me, my soul rejoices over his touch.

I banish the ridiculous sentiment when he reaches for the stove controls. The burner closest to my face clicks several times before he turns the knob far enough to light it. Blue flames fill my vision. I cringe, but the heat doesn’t reach me.

He weaves his fingers into my hair and pins the side of my face onto the counter before he lifts my shirt and gathers it at my nape, baring my back, and skims his hand over my sports bra. Realizing there is no clasp, he snarls and reaches for the knife set above my head.

His hips shift against my ass as he pulls the butcher knife out of the block. Terror tightens my throat.

My flesh stings from the cold, so all I feel is pressure when he slips the knife under my bra and slices the material apart. He trails the unforgiving edge of the knife down my spine.

“All this smooth flesh,” he murmurs.

My stomach drops and core clenches at the appreciation in his tone, but bile sours the back of my throat. I made peace with the scars on my stomach and thigh long ago, since they represent my efforts to save my sister, but the thought of him marking me fills me with terror.

“You’ve been too busy stabbing others in the back to know how it feels, haven’t you?”

My nerves jangle as he lifts the knife away from my back. He twists his hand in my hair and gives my head a little shake, ensuring I watch as he lowers the blade to the burner.

“I need answers, Julieta,” he demands.

I clamp my teeth together as I stare at the flames dancing over the metal.

“We don’t have to do this. Tell me why you’re in New York and who you’re scheming with, and I’ll put the knife away,” he says.

His faux concern awakens my anger.

I harden my eyes and glare at him over my shoulder.

He tilts his head and studies my face with his steel-grey eyes before tightening his fist in my hair. My scalp stings, but I refuse to wince.

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