Cellar Door

A heavy noise sounds to my right, and this time the sound is unmistakable. I scramble to hide the underwire back inside my bra. The cellar door opens just as I tuck the garment behind my back.

Light spills across the floor. The abrupt brightness hurts my eyes. Momentarily blinded by the flashlight, I shield my face, forgetting my nakedness.

“If this is an attempt to seduce me…” Easton trails off, his voice coarse like gravel. He sets the light on its base to illuminate the ceiling. He’s holding white material in his hand.

Unashamed, I plant a hand to the wall and push myself up to stand and force my shoulders back. “You tore my shirt,” I say, keeping my voice level, unaffected.

In the white light, I can make out the hike of his eyebrow beneath the hood. For the first time, I’m able to study him. Over six feet tall, he’s well defined; lean muscles fill out a solid frame beneath a leather jacket and gray thermal. His dark-denim jeans are tinged with fresh dirt, and a knife strap w

raps his right thigh. His dark-brown hair flops over part of his eye; longish but kempt.

He’s the fiend of my nightmares.

He’s what I see in the storm.

Monsters shouldn’t be beautiful—but this one is. A beautiful demon amid his dark cellar hell.

“You tear your bra, too?” He balls up the material and tosses it at me.

I catch it against my chest. It’s a shirt. I try not to take my eyes off him as I lower it from my chest, lifting my chin defiantly.

“Give me your clothes,” he says, the order clear in his dark tone.

I step on the bra with the heel of my boot. Then I kick the torn shirt and gun harness across the room toward him.

He looks unimpressed as he stands stock-still. “The bra, Makenna.”

It’s the first time he’s said my full name. The way he pronounces each syllable, with so much familiarity, sends a ripple of dread over my bare skin. Despite my aching muscles, I lower myself down, keeping my gaze trained on what I can see of his face, and clutch the garment.

“What’s that around your neck?”

His question throws me off-guard, and I clasp the silver heart charm. His breathing intensifies, chest heaving, as his ire travels the short span between us to physically brand me.

Then he spurs into motion.

I tuck the bra down my pants and then brace for the impact. I wrap my arm around the chain, securing myself in place, unmovable. I can’t fight him. I’m not stupid. He’s twice my size and a beast. But I refuse to give in so easily.

His large hand circles my wrist as his other takes the chain. Fear clogs my throat; I can’t breathe. My arm is wrenched free as he yanks the chain. There’s a loud pop, and the iron spike that I’m chained to is dislodged from the concrete.

Debris showers my face. I suck air in past the constriction of my lungs.

“Can you breathe?”

I shake my head, in shock, in conflict with his sincere tone. Finally, air slithers into my lungs to liberate my voice. “Y-yes.”

“Too bad.” He grabs my shoulders and hauls me upward. The chain rattles against the floor as my feet kick for purchase. His hand clamps my throat before I can process what’s happening.

Defenses delayed, I go for his eyes with my thumbs, but his forearm deflects my attack and pins my arms above my head. His hand finds my neck again, tighter now, choking my windpipe.

“Where did you get that necklace?”

I struggle against his hold, every muscle in my body aflame. Panic flares, rational thought lost. Blinking, I force my eyes open past the terror.

I swallow a breath, desperate, sucking down air the only way I can. I’m unable to close my eyes—I can’t look away. Shock registers far more deeply than the dread of my life literally slipping through his fingers. Horrid white scars mar one side of his face. Deep lacerations in varying sizes, as if a blade repeatedly slashed the left side. From forehead to jaw.

“Recognize the handiwork?” he asks.

My vision darkens at the corners. Bands of fire wind around my lungs. Before I lose consciousness, his grip loosens. Air blasts my lungs, and I swallow every molecule, thirsty for more. A painful cough racks my rib cage as my legs dangle freely.