Page 104 of Speechless
Sarah looked at him, eyes devastated, as her husband opened the truck door. She unfastened her belt so she could lean forward and press her cheek to his gently. “You’ll show her how, Connor. I have to believe you’ll be the one who shows her.”
Connor closed his eyes. There wasn’t any way he could answer her without making promises he couldn’t keep. He rubbed his cheek against hers, offering comfort he knew Zeke would give her more capably once she was inside.
She wasn’t his to tend.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”
He opened his eyes and gave Zeke a silent signal. When her husband reached in and lifted Sarah out of the truck, she left behind a solitary tear on Connor’s cheek. The door closed, no questions necessary from Zeke, and Connor watched the big man carry his wife like a precious artefact back to the house.
Unable to observe anymore, Connor put the truck into gear and drove away, faster than he’d dared with Sarah in transit. He knew the roads like the back of his hand, and if he thought like an FBI from the city, he knew which ones he’d take for the quickest, easiest journey.
Luna popped her head between the seats, tongue lolling as she studied the world going by. With a snap of his fingers, Connor beckoned her into the front seat and she happily obeyed. He slipped the leash off her neck and navigated the snowy streets, mindful of anyone who was out in a storm that shouldn’t be.
It sure as hell felt like the last time he’d be seeing his town this way. Buildings and memories flashed by as he drove, a lifetime of surviving and thriving. He said goodbye to it all until he reached the highway.
Chapter Twenty-One
Pain. Cold. Naked.
She remembered this state of existence far too well.
Jenna moaned, unable to move. God, her body was sure every single inch of it had been pummeled into mush by a hammer. Her arm screamed, the flesh hot and tight without touching it. She could barely pull in a breath without wheezing. Without spikes digging into her lungs.
It would be easier just to stop.
Yes, her bruised brain murmured in agreement. Just stop breathing. Don’t try to survive this hell a second time.
She tried to open her eyes, but they were glued shut. As panic rose beneath the pain, she remembered the wound on her head, the blood running into her eyes. Her own blood blinded her, how wonderful.
She recognized the feel of rough planks under her back, the splinters digging into her skin and open wounds. The whistle of the wind coming through the gaps in the sides of the shed seemed louder, more ferocious, and the cold it brought along for the ride bit deep.
Not just into flesh and bone—it turned her soul to ice.
He’d found her.
Footsteps crunched toward the shed. Not one, but two sets. Hope sprang inside her at the thought she might be spared Sire’s wrath. Then the door slammed open, bringing forth a swirling storm of precipitation to cover her already frozen body, and all hope died like a candle snuffed out in water.
“So you’re telling me you made one hell of a fucking mess, and now you’re packing up and leaving me with it?” Sire’s voice was colder than the temperature in the shed. “Tell me why I shouldn’t cut your throat now and be done with you.”
Jenna cringed at the tone. She’d suffered through what came after that tone too many times to count.
The door closed again, a lot quieter than when it opened, and the voice that spoke was low and almost inaudible. “You told me to get her back, I got her back. She’s here, isn’t she?”
A foot booted her in the hip hard enough to scoot her body over wood an inch. She cried out silently, thankful her training kicked in and stole her voice. Attracting Sire’s attention now would only mean his fury turned on her.
“You brought me a bloody, useless sack of meat.” Another kick, this time into the top of her thigh. “Look at the state of it. Broken arm and covered in blood. Broken ribs looking at that bruising. If it moves, it’ll puncture a lung,” Sire snapped in disgust. “I might as well drag it to the clearing now and put it out of its misery.”
Horror and fear knotted in her throat, but worse, there was an odd sense of relief beneath them. Death would be welcome. She would walk into his arms and beg him for a reprieve from this hell.
She could wait for Connor in peace.
Jenna imagined running her fingers through his hair, stroking the nape of his neck and tracing the muscles in his back and shoulders as he moved inside her. Envisioned his eyes growing darker, boring into her soul as her cries of pleasure stirred the air around them. If she concentrated hard enough, the memory of his mouth on hers was imprinted, strong and defined, in a kiss designed to link them together forever.
With that in mind, everything else cast aside, she banished him to the recesses of her mind and barricaded him in. Laid block after mental block of cement in place and sealed him away from what would happen all too soon.
She might wish he would come to her rescue, save her from Sire and his cruelty, but it wasn’t a wish she wanted to come true. Not now. Connor had put so much time and effort into healing her once, exhausted himself physically and emotionally.
She couldn’t ask him to piece her together again a second time.