Dominated (The Enforcers 2)

Sweet heaven, but every single word from that night was solidly ingrained in her memory because she recalled them verbatim, had absorbed them and worse of all, believed them.

Drake groaned, and he didn’t even recognize his own voice, so great was the agony. Like a wounded animal or a beast mourning the loss of his mate. He was both, but not nearly as wounded as the beautiful woman standing so close and yet so very far away.

She shook her head and then covered her face with both hands, her knees giving way as she slid toward the floor. Drake vaulted over the cleaning equipment in an attempt to catch her, but he was too late and so he skidded to a halt and collapsed to his knees in front of her, his arms immediately going around her, ignoring her sudden recoil, her rejection of his touch and body. Ignoring her reaction, he anchored her shaking body to his, holding on in a vow to never again let go.

“My angel,” he said, choking on the words. “My beautiful, sweet, innocent angel. Please, baby, please let me take you away from this. Let me explain. I swear to you I won’t hurt you. Never again. Give me a chance to make this right. Give me yourself again. I’ll never hurt such a precious gift again. I swear it on my life.”

She went limp against him, a tortured moan escaping her lips just before ragged sobs shook her entire body. Hot tears spilled onto Drake’s neck, his heart breaking with each sorrowful gasp she took. But he read her acquiescence, or perhaps it was simply that she was no longer strong enough to fight, but he knew he had to take swift advantage now when her defenses were down or he might never get another chance. Praying she’d forgive yet one more sin in the never-ending list of his transgressions, he swept her into his arms, standing and carrying her down the hall of the run-down hotel and out to where his car waited.

Maddox and Silas were both standing guard, and when their gazes found Drake carrying a sobbing Evangeline, Maddox’s whispered “Thank God” echoed firmly in Drake’s mind. Silas looked relieved and for a moment, fire burned in his eyes as he took in the heaving, sobbing slight figure in Drake’s arms. He looked at Drake accusingly, but Drake ignored his man. All that mattered was that he had Evangeline back and at least a chance to explain and make right the many wrongs he’d done to her.

Drake eased into the back of the car, holding Evangeline tightly to him as her silent sobs racked her tiny frame. Maddox hurried around to the driver’s side while Silas slid into the passenger seat. Maddox looked inquisitively at Drake, silently asking where Drake wanted to take Evangeline.

“The Conquistador,” Drake said quietly. “Make sure they have the penthouse suite prepared for my arrival.”

There was no way in hell he would bring Evangeline back to his apartment where the abomination against her had been carried out. Not now. Maybe never. Silas nodded his approval, immediately understanding why Drake had chosen as he had.

Drake frowned as he held Evangeline’s slight body tightly molded to his. They had been separated mere days and yet he could feel the fragility in her, the weight she’d lost. The hollows in her haunted eyes. Had she eaten? But he knew the answer. There’d been no one to take care of her, no one to see to her needs. No one she could turn to. Not the women she’d called friends for so long. Not her parents, because her pride wouldn’t have allowed them to know how desperate her circumstances were.

She was wasting away, as surely as he’d wasted away in the seemingly interminable time of their separation, every minute, hour, day . . . hell. No less than he deserved, but for the first time in so long he felt the stirrings of hope and the feel of sunshine that had shunned him since she’d gone, taking with her his light and his hope. And that wasn’t all that had been taken from him. He’d lost all the things he’d taken for granted. Her laughter, her delight in the simplest things. Her selflessness, her innate generosity, her goodness and innocence that affected not only him, but everyone she came into contact with. His men had been as desperate to find her as he’d been, and now that he had his miracle in his arms, he’d do exactly as he and his men had discussed.

No longer would he attempt to keep her a secret, afraid that she would be used—hurt—to cripple him and his empire. He was going to make her his fucking queen, and word would go out far and wide that she was not to be fucked with, or those who did so would face the wrath of Drake Donovan and his entire army of loyal brothers.