ried when I was seventeen. It wasn't so mu

m and he

be a docile little bitch when he needed me to. When I learned to sit by his feet without thinking it. . . humiliat

eally ours. He likes to pretend it is mine, give me the illusion of freedom by leaving me all alone. F

th. He'll find me if I run-I know this, because I've tried and he's caught me within the hour. T

er. She knows he may hurt her, but only he in the entire world gives a damn about her. Because without her captor, the captive would be dead. This is the de

ot be alright and ready for him when he wants to fuck me. He will never tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, lovingly. He will never tend the wounds he inflicts upon me. He will never, ever tell m

hat's

ly lets me out of my room anymore. Jaxon never used to lock me in. He is paranoid and always mad when he visits. This is the longest

my vision, and pushed me against the floor with my face pressed into the marble. He said he lost his business deal. He said it was my fault. He was drunk. He said

he'd thrown a life that had treated me

of my dress, I'd smashed the wine bottle against his head. I hadn't e

s and onto the streets and I'd r

that circle around my arm." Mrs. Hawke?"There's a hint of panic. Just a little, otherwise, the voic

t the edges, pushing back at the unnerving coldness in them. Thick, black lashes flutter against tanned, golden skin

ay as my neighbor raises his brows as

I don't know. He was. . . bleeding a lot. I

sn't quite look at me as he says," Do you

when he takes a purposeful step forward. His hand rises and I instinctively shield my face from him. But he doesn't hit me. Instead,

ou alr

re asking if I'm alright?"I ask, because I don't know how to say I am not alright. I don't know

pearing behind the collar of his black shirt-it's a dragon. . . from the little I can see at least, painted in red and black ink-or his hair in t

pri

t he did. What if he bleeds out and. . . God. I shouldn't care, but I know Jaxon. He'll b

ow of his sedan." I have places to be at, Mrs.

over to the other side, tugging at the handle of the car. The tinted glass window slides dow

voice trails off as I realize I have nowhere to go in this city. I have no one. I know

the car of a stranger. You're either fearless or stupid. Or both. I do not w

is street defers to him. I ask for your help, not because I wish to cling to you or involve you in my affairs, but because I am fucking scared and Jaxon is going to kill me when he wakes

I get in the backseat out of very, very old habit. As I slam the door shut, he cu