Page 144 of Bound By Her

He wanted this.

He was right in front of her now, the flames of light curling around him, like some sort of horror film.

“I’ve made my decision,” she said.

It was done. She stared into his cold face. The Triune was happy. He could not hurt her.

“I am going to ask you to leave,” she said, moving towards the door.

His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.

“Jonathan, don’t,” she said, pushing her palm against his chest.

He leaned in, burying his nostrils in her hair, inhaling deeply.

“Why not?” he asked, still buried in her hair. “Because you’ll give the Triune that little photo of me?”

She pressed harder on his chest, desperately wanting to end the embrace, but he only held her tighter.

“Say it!” he yelled into the room, and she flinched in his arms.

With as much conviction as she could muster, she said, “I’ll do it, don’t try me.”

But even she could hear the waver in her voice.

A smug smile crept over his face, still inches from hers. “No, I don’t think you will.”

He let her go, moving back to the fire for another drink. Adria concentrated on the raging flames, hoping their warmth would combat the chill moving up her spine.

“I don’t think you ever had any intention of letting what happened here see the light of day, or…” He eyed her. “Perhaps there is no such photo.”

Adria shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak. She had gone to great lengths to keep Jonathan away.

Built a prison and threw away the key. But the prisoner was loose, and now she struggled to find the words to put him back in.

“I have them,” she said, raising her chin, but found it hard to hide the tremble in her jaw.

Moving away from the fireplace, he advanced on her. Adria tried to scream, but his large hand clamped over her mouth before a sound came out. Her body twisted so her back was pressed against his chest.

“Show them to me,” he said, his voice threatening.

She whimpered under his hand, and he leaned in close to her ear. “No? Well, you know what that means, don’t you?”

The fire popped and crackled behind them.

“You always did need a firm hand to help keep you in line,” he said, releasing her mouth and turning her to face him.

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she willed them away, but not before a small drop escaped.

Jonathan caught it with his index finger. “Gotcha,” he said.

His finger carried the single tear carefully to his mouth, before licking it clean.

“Mmm, just like I remember it.”

His breath smelled like old whisky.

Her father’s office, the fire, it was straight out of her nightmares.

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