Blyssfully Undone (The Blyss Trilogy 3)

I’m not ready to be face-to-face with Nick, so I rest my cheek against his shoulder and stare at the blanket draped over me. I feel the muscles in his chest move as he unscrews the lid on the water bottle.

Bringing the opening rim of the bottle to my lips, he tilts it, forcing me to take a sip. “C’mon, sweetheart. Take some tiny sips for me.” I have no choice but to comply. When he pulls the bottle away, he kisses the top of my head, and I hear him inhale my scent. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers forlornly. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine,” I quietly assure him. He leans forward to put the water in a cup holder to free his hand, and then he runs his fingers through the back of my hair, massaging my neck as he holds me tightly.

“I wasn’t fine. I was miserable without you. I’m just glad you’re in one piece.” He pauses to kiss the top of my head again before he continues, “I don’t want you anywhere near the facility, or any place other than home, for that matter. I just want it to be you and me, with no outside interferences as we build our relationship.”

I have nothing to say to his remark. I think my heart turned to ashes the moment I found out my dad was a murderous psycho. I’m fairly certain I’m still in shock. I’m beginning to recognize the symptoms of shock now, and unfortunately, I’m learning to roll with it.

Nick continues, his baritone voice mingling with the sound of the tires on the road. “You will love it there, I promise,” he assures me. “You will have anything and everything you could ever want or need, including all the love you could ever hope to have in a lifetime.”

I’m hollow inside as his words bounce around the now empty chambers of my heart. He lifts my chin to meet his gaze, his eyes gleaming a pretty sable as he searches my face. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“I do,” I whisper in response. His eyes narrow on mine as he works something out in his head.

“You belong to me, Julianna. We belong together…you know that, right?”

I’m exhausted, and honestly, I don’t know what the hell he wants from me, other than a fairytale ending. “Yes,” I whisper in defeat, my somber face acknowledging him.

He scrutinizes my lack of excitement for being his captive, yet again. “You don’t seem like you want this, Julianna.”

Oh, my God. He can’t be for real right now. What the hell does he expect me to say at a time like this? Yes, thank you for making a deal with the devil and rescuing me from the fiery pits of one hell, just to go into another?

His emotions flip in the blink of an eye, and the growing annoyance radiates off him from my lack of response. “Do you miss him, Julianna?” he asks through gritted teeth in a contemptuously low tone. He doesn’t give me time to process his question before his voice turns into untamed, turbulent outrage. “Did you enjoy fucking him?”

What the fuck? I jolt backward as if I’ve been bitch-slapped in the face. He painfully grips my cheeks, his upper lip twitching as he grates out, “I asked…did you enjoy fucking him?” he repeats.

My heart takes off like a jackhammer gone crazy. How the hell do I even begin to answer a question like that? And I’m fairly certain he knows the answer. Is he looking for another reason to be angry with me so he can whip me on his cross again? When I don’t respond fast enough, he barks loudly, “Well, did you?” I flinch, my eyes wide with shock and dismay.

His eyes have gone wild, and I’m frightened of his volatile and unpredictable mood swing. He nods as if he’s figured out the answer for himself. “I thought so,” he sneers, disdain dripping like thick syrup from his voice.

He roughly releases my cheeks, and I don’t know how to handle him. With his anger barely contained, and knowing what he’s capable of when he’s pissed, especially where his jealousy of Travis is concerned, my brain scrambles to try and think of something to say to calm him down.

My hands start trembling with the memories of what happened the last time I purposely made him jealous. Survival mode kicks in as I hear myself blurt out, “It didn’t mean anything.”

He cups my right cheek, scrutinizing my every feature up close and personal as he looks for deception. Nick’s unspoken rage fills the silence in the limo with such thickness it makes it hard for me to breathe. His eyes tell me he wants so badly to believe me, so I put forth my best effort to quell his skepticism.