Page 72 of Vow of Vengeance
"Come on..." He cajoles. "Remember the first time you sucked my dick? You didn't want to do it then, either, but you liked it."
I sure as fuck didn't like it.
I didn't like how it made my jaw hurt or how he pulled my hair and forced me to stay still when he was coming, mashing my nose against his skin.
And I sure as hell didn't like how he grabbed the back of my neck and held me there, forcing me to swallow the disgusting, slimy cum that was making my stomach twist.
It’s almost sad, now, that I couldn’t see how fucking awful he was when we were together. Because in hindsight, he was horrendous.
Hiding from me for a year, inside our own house, is horrendous.
Unimaginable.
And so is being here at his mercy right now.
He slaps the head of his cock against my lips a few times in quick succession, like that will make me change my mind.
When it doesn't, he lets go of his grip on me and steps back, running his hands through his hair. I take the opportunity to look for restraints.
I'm fully clothed, still in the outfit I changed into when Violet and Wes showed up. It's a small blessing, telling me that he hasn't done anything, but the thick bands that cross my body don't give me any assurance beyond that. The straps are like the ones from the awful chair I'd seen in the basement of the bar...the kind that look like seat belts, without a buckle anywhere in sight.
My arms are pinned by my sides, my legs pressed tightly together, and I feel like a corpse about to be mummified.
I feel like one of his victims… the ones he did unspeakable things to.
"Vin..." I venture slowly. "Let me go. We don't have to do this."
Whateverthisis, I don't want it. I know what he’s capable of, and if I can’t steer him in a different direction…
I don’t have to ask myself whether he’d really kill me. I know that answer in my bones, and it’s making my entire body tremble.
"You're mywife, Soren!" He screams, turning around so suddenly I flinch away from him and the anger written all over his face. It's not something I witnessed often and seeing it now feels like a bad omen. "I thought we could get past this."
Get past it?
He faked his death.
He let me think he was gone, let me suffer alone for nearly a year, let me carry the grief of losing our childby myself.
And now he shows up, now that I know the truth about how vile he is, and he expects me to move on as if no time has passed?
There are so many things I could say, so many things I should ask. But I need to know, once and for all, what happened that night.
"Maybe we can." I say, so quietly that I wonder if the words actually made it off my tongue.
Vin freezes, eyeing me with something like hope.
"What?"
"Maybe we can get past it.” I swallow the lie and my fear over what he plans to do to me. “But I need you to be honest with me. No more lies?"
"No more lies." He agrees quickly... too quickly.
He's desperate for me to forgive him despite the fact he's not yet asked for my forgiveness.
"What happened the night I thought you died?"
twenty-nine
