Page 130 of Shattered Souls
“W-where is Lydia?”
I don’t know how I manage to choke out the words.
Ducking his head, he nuzzles at my neck while I stand stock-still, rooted in place with bile burning the back of my throat as he plants open-mouthed kisses along my jaw.
“Gone.” His voice is deeper, raspier. His hands glide up my hips and over my waist before sliding to my back. It’s the caress of a lover, but the reverence of his touch doesn’t mean it’s wanted.
The mental mindfuck of being touched against your will in such a tender, reverential way is something you never come to terms with. Something that never gets easier. I think that’s why I enjoy the way the guys manhandle me—their rough touches.
Although, even when they’re gentle with me… it’s different. It’s there in the way their eyes soften. How they catalog my reaction to their touch and adjust accordingly, always taking their cues from me.
Unlike Bertram, who doesn’t notice or care that I’m stiff as a board and silently screaming for him to get off me.
Gentle doesn’t necessarily mean kind.
Just like rough doesn’t mean uncaring.
Howyou touch someone doesn’t demonstrate whether you care. It’s theintentbehind the action.
“For good.”
His words don't get the chance to fully penetrate before his mouth covers mine, knocking the air from my lungs. His tongue forces its way past my teeth, and he groans into my mouth. The bile thickens, becoming suffocating. My eyes are squeezed shut, my fingernails leaving crescent moon indentations in my palm as I squeeze them at my sides, battling the urge to push him away, to piss him off, to anger him.
I force steady breaths through my nose. I need to control myself; I need to remain calm, to keep as much of my sanity tucked away as I can so that I don't lose the last fragments of who I am before I can get my daughter and me out of this alive and unharmed.
His tongue feels like a wet fish in my mouth. Intrusive. Nothing like the passionate kisses I share with the guys. Theirpossessive caresses. Their toe-curling kisses that make stars dance across the backs of my eyes.
That’s what I focus on, what I use to get myself through this.
“This is why I never kissed you before.” His voice is gravel, scraping against my skin and leaving dots of blood to bloom in its wake. “I knew once I did, I’d never get enough.” A final brush of his lips over mine. “Get on the bed. It’s been far too long since I’ve been inside you.”
Whether it’s the order or his words, my stomach cramps, and vomit floods my mouth, acrid and searing as I grit my teeth and swallow it back down.
“Youaremy good little girl, right, Riley?” he asks with an arched brow when I don’t immediately move toward the bed.
With a shaky jerk of my head, I move toward the bed as though walking through a dream. I absently try to calculate how many minutes have passed since I stepped into his room. It feels like it’s been hours, but it can’t have been more than maybe ten minutes.
You can do this, I remind myself.Just keep going.
Climbing onto the bed, I settle on my back, my head resting against the pillows. It could be the comfiest bed in the world, and I’d be incapable of feeling it. My body is too stiff. My heart too numb. My mind too distanced.
The world around me no longer feels real. Color has drained out of it, leaving only a sepia tone. There’s the hiss of a zipper as Bertram shucks out of his clothes before the mattress compresses and a weight settles on top of me. I feel like I’m wearing one of those VR headsets. I can see the scene playing out, even though I can’t feel it. It’s like it’s happening to someone else, and I’m nothing but a casual onlooker.
My dress is pushed up to my hips, and there’s a faint sensation as his hand covers my breast. His lips are moving, but the words don’t penetrate.
My legs are shoved apart.
Fingers snaking a path up my thigh.
An explosion rocks the entire house.
My surroundings blink back into high-definition as the walls shake and windows rattle from the force of the blast.
Bertram topples off me, collapsing onto the floor as I plant my hands on the mattress and push myself upright. My eyes are wide as the floor trembles violently, the explosion reverberating through the structure of the house followed by a hot, oppressive wave of heat. The acrid smell of smoke begins to fill the air. I’m wracked by a coughing fit, which startles me out of my stupor.
Oh my god, it worked!
“What the—” Pushing to his feet, Bertram cautiously approaches the door but makes no move to open it.
