Page 13 of Saving Her

Some enjoy boasting their horrors. And others, like this man, prefer to play nice, luring victims with honey to later strike with sickening poison.

“Don’t worry,” I add. “Luther enjoys the same type of games. Sometimes he pretends he’s had a hard day and wants someone to cuddle up against. But gentle cuddles always turn into vicious hands around a delicate throat. Or gouge marks along tender skin. He likes lulling victims into a false sense of security. I gather that’s what you’re doing now, right?”

His jaw ticks. “No.”

“No?” I quirk a brow.

He holds my gaze, those hazel eyes softening back to their deceptive look of concern. “I want to help you.”

“Help keep me in a sexual violation routine? Isn’t that what you were discussing earlier?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

“Yeah,” I drawl, despite the pulse building in my throat. This man is getting to me. The initial damage he caused by mentioning my home is eating away at my defenses to leave me vulnerable. “I heard. So stop wasting both our time. I need to get this food outside.”

It’s a mistake to admit how far I intruded upon Luther’s privacy. The truth could come back to bite me. Hard. But the longer this man stares at me, his questionable intent putting me on edge, the more unsettled I become.

I want to believe the feigned sincerity in those eyes. I’d give anything to fall headfirst into his offer for help. If only it wasn’t a sickening game.

“You need to trust me.” He makes another cautionary glance toward both doorways, then approaches another step.

He’s so close the gentle scent of his woodsy cologne burns a trail down my throat to scorch my lungs.

He leans in, his gaze never leaving mine as he murmurs, “I know your brother.”

My heart stops, the harsh stab of déjà vu assailing me.

With effortless precision he attacks. Without physical connection. With barely audible words.

I have two brothers. Both of them the most caring, brilliant men in the world, and having this asshole use either one of them against me is despicable.

“Stop it.” I keep backtracking, needing to maintain the distance between us. I can’t let him push me into my past. I can’t fall into that trap. “Leave me alone.”

I stalk to the far cupboards and retrieve a packet of wafers. If I don’t get outside with food Luther will punish me, and despite his heavy hand being less painful than the thoughts of my family, I won’t open myself up to any more torture than I’ve already received in the last twenty-four hours.

“Listen to me.” Luca’s heavy footsteps approach, his presence closing in at my back, his hands clasping the counter on either side of my waist.

He traps me.

Cages me.

“I know you, Penny. I know how long you’ve been missing and that your brother never stopped looking for you until he thought he had evidence of your death.”

His words whisper into my ears. The message is pure torture.

There are so many aspects to fixate on. Too many facets to assail me.

My brother stopped looking?Whichbrother? What evidence? Was it the tooth Luther extracted from my mouth without sedation? Or the fist-fulls of hair that have been ripped from my head over the unending months?

No.

It’s all lies. All make-believe.

I don’t have siblings. I don’t have a past.

I suck in breath after breath, trying to ignore how he keeps goading me into a game I’m not equipped to handle. He’s deliberately pushing my buttons. This man is merely violating me with mental manipulation instead of physical.

Fuck him.

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