Chapter 44

MADDISON

His eyes flash with a glint that sends a shiver of fear down my spine.

I’ve never seen that look in his eyes before, and for a split second, I contemplate fleeing.

I consider wrenching my wrist from his lax grip and sprinting toward the elevator in an attempt to escape him.

I’ve already mapped out my escape route in my mind.

I’d yank my arm free, aim a swift kick at his knee, and bolt, praying that the elevator is on this floor.

I’d reach the elevator, frantically pressing the close button, and watch as he races toward me, just a second too late as the doors close between us.

He might pound on the door and curse so loudly that I can still hear him, but I’d be moving away from him.

Whether the elevator goes up or down doesn’t matter; the important thing is that he wouldn’t be able to touch me, but… I guess I hesitated for too long.

Perhaps there was a glint in my eye or a determined expression on my face because one moment I was standing—and the next, I was hoisted over his shoulder.

His shoulder bone digs into my stomach at an uncomfortable angle, sending waves of pain through me.

I struggle, my hands pounding against his back as I try to drop to the floor and put my escape plan into action, but all I receive is a sharp smack on my backside as he carries me straight into the bedroom and unceremoniously drops me onto the hard, tiled floor.

I hit the floor hard and fast, my shoulder bearing the brunt of the impact, followed by the rest of my body.

A cracking sound echoes in the room, and I’m almost certain something’s broken, and I let out a silent scream, the pain too intense to vocalize.

Jonathon crouches down, yanking my head back to force me to look at him.

“Little kitten, you didn’t think I’d fuck you gently, did you? Not after you betrayed my trust as you did this morning. You repulse me, dear girl. His very stink is clinging to your every pore. What a dirty whore you are…” His last words are filled with contempt, and I finally whimper as my body remembers to breathe.

And it’s all because of the one thing I hate myself for.

I’m repulsive, and now even to him, he sees me this way. Every man will eventually see me this way; it’s ingrained in me.

Every mark and scar, whether physical or mental, is there. They’re burned into my very being, whether that be my brain, my skin, or my fight response.

The scars are easily seen if only one would look because they aren’t concealable. Not with the right triggers or the right light to see them.

I grit my teeth as he pushes me into the ground with my shoulder that protests under his weight.

“Did rebellion taste good? Was it fruitful?” he asks.

I don’t answer; I refuse to make a sound as I boldly stare into his eyes. I see the hurt in the back of his irises, the emotion no man ever wants to admit to, but even through his anger, I can read it—see it with my eyes.

And that shocks me because betrayal cannot be a reaction unless emotions are tied to the person in question, which leads me to believe on some level that Jonathon has some feelings toward me. The thought should make me happy, but for once, it sickens me.

“Oh, that look in your eyes, the fear laced with excitement, is exhilarating, kitten,” he says.

He moves through the bedroom toward his duffle that he unzips. I listen to his every move as he takes things out and places them on the bed with a poof. I try to convince myself not to get up, not to run and try to escape this mess, but my begging is fruitless.

I crawl toward the doorway while his back is to me, trying to be as quiet as possible before I make my run for it. Standing with great difficulty and pain, I move through the doorway into the past and slide around the kitchen counter toward the apartment door.

I don’t dare take a moment to look behind me; I would be stupid to—losing time that could be used to propel myself further forward.

The door is there, right before me, and I allow myself a small smile. Just outside that door could be any civilian, and Jonathon is far from a fool. He wouldn’t touch me out there.

If I could just open this door and stand in the hallway, he might return to reality and not do this.

And I have my hand reached out, my fingers brushing the door handle just as I’m whipped into the air with a low grunt of annoyance.

“Bad move, sweetheart,” he warns me, spinning around quickly, and my head collides with the light switch.

We’re moving in the opposite direction I’d hoped for, back toward the room, my heart pounding with uncertainty.

I gave it my best shot.

I attempted to flee, and even though it didn’t work out, at least I tried.

I couldn’t have asked more of myself.

This time, Jonathon tosses me onto the bed, the mattress feeling like a soft cloud compared to the harsh tiled floor that bruised my shoulder.

Before I can even catch my breath or react, he grabs one of my wrists, snapping a cold metal cuff around it, tightening it until it digs into my skin in a way that’s all too familiar.

“Are you ready, sweetheart? Because tonight isn’t going to be a walk in the park for you,” he threatens, leaning over to attach the other end of the cuff to one of the bars behind my head, effectively trapping me to the wooden bed frame.

“I’ll resist you every damn step of the way,” I spit back at him, putting more fight into my words than I thought I had in me.

“And there she is, the feisty little spitfire that gives my clients exactly what they’re looking for. This is going to be a thrilling ride,” he taunts.

“There will be nothing thrilling about it, Jonathon. I’ll scratch your eyes out, bite anything that comes near my mouth, and claw at you with my bare nails,” I vow.

“I’m banking on it.” He grins, stepping back to remove his jacket and carelessly tossing it onto the floor.

He then proceeds to unbutton his shirt, revealing a smattering of dark hair on his sculpted chest.

“You like what you see?” he teases.

“No,” I fib, causing him to chuckle as his shirt falls to the floor behind him.

I turn my gaze away, looking to the side to stop myself from ogling his bare body for the first time.

But despite my best efforts, I can feel a warmth spreading between my thighs, ready and waiting for him to enter me.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so easy to read…” he says, smiling softly.