Page 21 of Redemption

This monster who kidnapped me is completely unpredictable. He was capable of holding a knife to my throat while he violated me. He could turn violent at any moment, so I have to remain calm and not give him any reason to harm at me.

He doesn’t look at me for the few minutes it takes him to find a pack of bandages in the medicine cabinet. It’s almost as though he’s ignoring me, if it weren’t for the menace rolling offhim in waves. His every movement is tense with barely leashed aggression, but, mercifully, he doesn’t try to assault me again.

When he turns to face me, the blood has been washed from his face, and the only sign of the wound I gave him is a tiny bandage on his forehead. His midnight hair tumbles over his brow, almost concealing it entirely.

He sweeps the unruly locks back, smoothing them into his usual neat style. He’s completely unruffled and utterly composed when he holds out his hand like a gentleman.

I stare at it, unwilling to place my hand within his grasp. My fists clench at my sides in silent defiance. His sharp gaze flicks over my rigid posture, and he shrugs.

He drops his hand to his side as though the tense exchange doesn’t bother him in the slightest, but his jaw remains tight enough that a shadow flits at his cheek.

“I’ll show you around the house,” he says in a smooth cadence.

I get the bizarre sense that he thinks I’m his honored guest, not his captive.

The man truly is insane. How did I not see it before?

I recall the times his face went cold, and his eyes glinted with green fire. I’d trembled with fear-drenched desire, but that was when I trusted him implicitly. Before I found out that he’s the masked man. Before I knew that he hid behind GentAnon’s screenname to learn all of my most forbidden desires.

He claims that we met the night before he first came into the café. The fact that he stalked me on my way home and then followed me to work the next morning makes a chill pebble my skin.

All those months, he came into the café like clockwork every morning.

Until the day he finally asked me on a date.

The day after the masked man—Dane,I silently correct myself—attacked me.

“Why?” The single word is a razor blade in my throat, dragging its way out of me.

I don’t think I want to know, but I can’t help asking. I can still barely accept what’s happening to me, and I’m desperate to understand.

“Why did you ask me out? Why do any of this?”

His green eyes blaze, burning into me. “Because you’re perfect for me.”

6

DANE

Three Months Ago

I’ve visited the café every morning for a week, and Abigail is simply polite to me, as though I’m like every other customer.

It’s frustrating.

Infuriating.

So, I find myself strolling through her neighborhood after the sun sets. She won’t even look at me when I’m at the café. I must’ve thoroughly intimidated her when I completely misjudged the situation. I’d been overly familiar after our meeting at the bar, and she hadn’t remembered me at all.

I can’t harass her while she’s at work; that’ll only raise more red flags.

But now that I’m a regular at the café, I can’t approach her elsewhere without seeming like I’m stalking her. I’d only spook her even more.

I force my clenched jaw to loosen.

This woman is maddening, but the more difficult it is to pursue her, the more I crave to conquer her.

I’ve never been evaded by a woman before. No one has wanted to evade me.

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