Page 67 of Stolen Summer
The tension in my body relaxing, I turned back, my mind returning to the book waiting for me in the library.
Except I was no longer alone.
A shadow filled the doorway leading into the formal dining area, which would have taken me to the sanctuary I sought. A masked intruder stood between me and my book.
I should scream. I should definitely scream right now.
My arm moved, not my mouth, and I swore my body malfunctioned. Or perhaps my brain’s ability to command my body was on the fritz. Either way, what the fuck?
I didn’t even know what my arm did until the ballsy burglar hissed, letting out a string of colorful swearwords I might have appreciated in another situation. I’d tossed my scalding tea into his face.
From the faint kitchen light, I saw the stain on his dark hoodie. He lifted his hand to wipe the hot liquid from his face with the back of his arm. Something glinted in the light. Something that stopped my heart and made my blood run cold.
The intruder had a knife.
“You little bitch,” he hiss-growled, the timbre of his voice deep and gravelly.
Me? He was the fucker creeping in the dark, wearing a mask to my great nightmarish delight, in a house I was damn sure wasn’t his.
He came at me.
Holy shit. I’m going to be murdered.
Reacting on instinct and pure fear, I threw my empty mug at him and spun, taking off through the kitchen. The cup shattered on the floor, and heavy footsteps pounded behind me. I made it to the edge of the hallway before fingers tangled into my hair and yanked me backward.
Searing pain erupted at my hair follicles, tears pricking at my eyes. My back hit his chest, and I could smell the cigarette smoke on him. I reached up, grabbing at the hand holding me hostage, everything in me screaming to free the fingers causing me pain, but his hold was tight, and he had strength and height on me. I used my nails, clawing and scratching at his arm, my fear making me forget the knife until he pressed it to my throat.
He hissed in my ear, “Make a sound and I’ll cut you.”
The threat pretty much stopped me in my tracks, and as my heart thundered in my ears, I tried to think, to be smart. What am I supposed to do in this situation? What the fuck had I learned in that one gym class I had in high school on self-defense?
I remembered the knee to the groin, an obvious maneuver, poking them in the eyes, screaming, and fighting back. It caught them by surprise. Most predators didn’t expect a female to fight back.
I wasn’t alone in the house. If I screamed, I hoped Cole would hear me—if he hadn’t already been woken up by the shattering cup. The prick better not be a light sleeper.
Letting my arms go slack at my sides, I wanted to give my assailant the impression I would comply with his demands.
His chest exhaled against my back. “That’s a good girl.”
I screamed.
Good girl, my ass.
Nothing infuriated me more than being made to feel helpless and being called a pet name like I was some damn dog being rewarded for good behavior.
The fingers ensnared in my hair wrenched, enticing new, torturous pain. It cut off my cry for help, and the second I gasped in pain, he freed my hair only to slap his hand over my mouth. “You stupid bitch.”
As if I wasn’t going to use my teeth. Idiot. I bit him, coming down as hard as I could on a finger. He didn’t wear gloves, and the taste of his salty skin made my stomach recoil, but I pushed through, holding on to him like a pit bull. The tang of blood touched my tongue, and I gagged.
He immediately ripped his hand away from my mouth, but if I thought the torture was over, I was wrong.
Grabbing my throat, he whirled me around and slammed me into the wall. My head hit the drywall with a thud, and I gasped in agony, only for it to be cut short as his fingers tightened, and my lungs struggled for air. My panic levels reached new heights.
“Where is he?” he demanded. “Where is Crew?”
“What?” I rasped, doing my best to process what he wanted while also trying not to fucking die. My survival instincts were snuffing out common sense.
“Don’t play dumb with me. Where is he? What room?”