Tempted Heir (The Heirs 7)

An intense fear, the likes of which I’ve never felt before, floods every corner of me.

“Shh,” Josh whispers again. “Don’t cry, my love.”

My body shakes uncontrollably as I keep quiet. What’s the use of even trying to reason with him anymore?

I’m unable to stop him as he picks me up and carries me to the bathroom. The shaking in my body grows as he sets me down on the floor.

He opens the faucets, and water begins to pour into the tub.

Limply, I try to shake my head as I whimper, “Don’t.”

“Shh,” he hushes me. “I’ll get you all cleaned up, then you can eat and get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow is a new day. I’m sure you’ll feel better then.”

Better for what? More torture?

Josh leaves me alone for a moment, and I hear the front door open and close.

Using the last of my strength, I claw at the wall and tub to get up. My breaths grow harsh from the energy it takes to keep myself standing.

Before I can manage a step, I hear the front door open and close. I slump back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Josh comes back into the bathroom, carrying a bag. He sets it down on the toilet lid then crouches next to me.

When he reaches for my skirt, a meager burst of energy rushes through me. I slap weakly at his hand and try to get up.

Josh backhands me hard, slamming the side of my head against the tub. Everything blacks out, and I’m left powerless as I feel him tug at my underwear.

It feels as if I’m being stripped of the last of my dignity. Debased and battered, I weep as he lifts me up and sets me down in the tub. The water burns my raw back, ripping a cry from me.

Submerged in the bowels of hell and unable to protect myself, despair darkens every corner of my soul as Josh begins to wash my body and hair. Every bruise comes to life until it feels like my back and face are on fire.

When he washes between my legs, wrenching agony tears through me, making it feel like my insides are being twisted. I gag empty pain-filled coughs, which only makes the pain worse.

A few moments later, he stops washing me and grabs hold of my face. His fingers dig into my cheek, but I’m too exhausted to yank away as he presses a kiss to my mouth. “Doesn’t that feel good?” he croons before giving me another kiss. “We’re starting to make progress. See, everything will be better soon.”

He lifts me out of the tub and dries my body before dressing me in clean underwear and a pale green long sleeve dress that falls to my feet.

At least I’m covered.

Josh carries me to the bedroom this time, and again I’m overwhelmed with a paralyzing fear. He sets me down on a bed, then leaves. Seconds later, he comes back with a glass of water.

I’m thirsty and will do almost anything for water, but when he lifts my head from the pillow and holds the glass to my mouth, I press my lips together.

I’d rather die of thirst than owe him anything.

“You need to drink,” Josh says softly, almost lovingly. “Come on.” Pressing the glass closer to my mouth, a few drops spill onto my feverish lips. Sadly, it’s all the encouragement I need. I get two gulps down before he pulls it away.

“Not too fast, you can have more in a minute.” I feel a sudden pang of loss as he leaves the room with the water.

But then he comes back in with a bowl. When I see it’s fruit, a sob escapes my lips.

Josh spears a piece of apple then holds the fork to my mouth. Cautiously, I take the bite, knowing I’ll need the strength to fight him.

“Good, isn’t it?”

My eyes dart to his. I want to beg him to let me go, but I know he won’t, and it only fills me with despair as he continues to slowly feed me.

When he’s done, he leans forward and presses a kiss to my trembling lips. “It’s time for me to go, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

The instant he walks out of the cabin, relief washes over me.

At least he didn’t tie me up again.

Using the little strength I’ve gained from the fruit, I slowly sit up. Struggling to my feet, I lean against the wall as I sluggishly make my way to the front door. I take hold of the doorknob, but when I turn it, nothing happens.

Desperation lends me more energy, and I begin to yank at the door. Feverishly, I move from boarded window to boarded window, clawing and yanking at the slabs of wood.

My eyes land on my engagement ring, and drained, I sink down to my knees as I let out a wail devoid of all hope. I pick up the ring and hold it to my chest as sobs wrack through me. Trapped in my own personal hell, I slam a fist against the floor.