Claiming My Sweet Captive

Rage more visceral than I’d ever known surged through me, searing my veins. An inhuman sound reverberated through the hallway, and my hands closed around his shoulders before I realized I’d moved. I ripped him off her, flinging him against the wall. The back of his head cracked against the plaster, leaving a crimson smear as he slid to the ground.

Drawing his blood didn’t remotely calm me. He’d touched her. He’d looked at her.

He would die in agony.

My fingers curved into claws, and I gouged his eyes out, his blood painting my hands as he screamed. I wrapped my hands around his neck, squeezing until his face darkened to purple, the empty sockets where his eyes had been staring up at me.

It wasn’t nearly enough, but Samantha’s keening cries cut through my blind fury. I grasped the man’s skull and twisted. Bone crunched as his neck snapped. I hadn’t exacted my full retribution, but the threat to her was eliminated.

I turned back to Samantha. She lay curled up on her side, her wide, pale eyes staring in horror as she gasped for breath. At first, I thought she was looking at the dead man’s ruined face, but her gaze was focused on something far away. She wasn’t present in the gory scene I’d created.

My rage evaporated into concern. How badly had he hurt her?

I reached for her with bloody hands, and she flinched away.

I hesitated, wary of spooking her. “Cosita, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Andrés?” Her voice was soft and strangely high, like a child. “I don’t want him to touch my… I don’t want this. I don’t… I don’t…”

She began to hyperventilate. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close to my chest. The vise around my heart eased slightly when she turned her face into me, her fingers curling into my shirt.

She sobbed, finally heaving in a breath. A stream of soothing Spanish dropped from my lips. I was barely aware of what I was saying, but I had to comfort her. All I could do was hold her until her terror passed.

Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and she shook violently in

my arms as I rushed her to the elevator and took her back into the safety of my penthouse. I carried her into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, cuddling her close as I ran my hands over her chilled skin.

I stopped talking when she began whispering in a panicked litany, her voice still oddly soft. “Don’t. I don’t want you to touch my secret place. I don’t want this, Uncle Robert. Please…” She shuddered, clinging to me more tightly.

My arms tensed around her, crushing her to my chest as my rage resurfaced, painting the back of my tongue with acid. Understanding sliced into my brain, the pain of my revelation making my gut twist. She wasn’t thinking about the guard who’d assaulted her; she was lost in dark memories, ones she must have buried deep. They’d been triggered by the attack.

She hadn’t been frightened of my touch in our first days together because she was an innocent virgin. Her nervous tics and anxiety weren’t natural parts of her personality. Her uncle had hurt her when she was young. The fear in her high-pitched voice and her horrified words revealed her trauma.

“Where is your uncle now?” I couldn’t keep the growl from my words, even though I knew I should be gentle with her. The way I’d mutilated the guard downstairs was nothing compared to the torture I’d inflict on the twisted man who’d violated her as a child.

“What?” She blinked, her eyes finally focusing on me as she surfaced from her foul memories.

“You said…” My voice garbled on a snarl. “You mentioned Uncle Robert. Where can I find him?”

She shuddered at his name. “Why?”

“I’m going to kill him for you, Samantha,” I swore. Maybe I’d let her watch as I tore him apart. His screams for mercy might bring her some peace.

My body vibrated with barely-restrained violence, and my hand firmed on her head where I’d been stroking her hair.

“He’s dead,” she replied hollowly as her eyes slid out of focus again. “I cried at his funeral. I didn’t know why I was so upset. I fucking cried over him.”

“How old were you? How old were you when he—?” My teeth snapped closed. I swallowed against the metallic tang that filled my mouth.

“Nine,” she said softly. “But I forgot. How could I forget?”

She trembled, and her gaze found mine, wide and imploring. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m sorry I tried to leave. I thought you didn’t care about me. I thought—”

“You thought I didn’t care?” I demanded, my muscles tensing and rippling around her. “Do you know what it did to me, seeing another man hurting you, touching you? Seeing you broken and crying when you remembered what—?” I cut myself off again, tasting a fresh wash of blood on my tongue as I bit the inside of my cheek.

Something horrible occurred to me. I’d thought she’d enjoyed my claim over her when she’d finally given herself to me last night. Had I only seen what I wanted to see? “Did I hurt you?” I asked, my voice strangely thick. “Last night. Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She touched her fingertips to my cheek, tracing the line of my scar just as she’d done when I’d been buried deep inside her.