Predator - A Stand Alone Suspense Romance(15)

I fall back onto the bed and I let the tears flow. I don’t move as the sun glides through the room. I just let the anger ebb away until all that remains is the empty shell.



I hear the key rattle in the door and my insides turn to stone. I try to switch off. It’s hard to see, there’s no blinding light and I’m thankful for it. It only makes everything more real, and my swollen eyes water and burn.

I hear movement and I stiffen painfully. I press harder into the cold floor. I can’t take another beating. I can’t handle being raped again. I have nothing left to fight with.

“Oh, Cara,” I hear Steven whisper resentfully and I squeeze myself harder against the floor. “Why do you have to be so damn fuckable?”

I place a hand over my mouth to keep from breathing too loudly. I will my heartbeat to slow down, to not pound until he can hear it too.

“Just remember,” he whispers darkly and then I hear him move closer, “this is all your fault.”

My heart stops. My world stops.

He’s suddenly on top of me and I start to fight with strength I didn’t know I had.

I claw at him until I have his skin under my nails. When he tries to kiss me, I bite until I taste his blood.

His hands are all over my torso and when he squeezes my breasts painfully, I can’t think as the fear I thought I’ve gotten to know so well thickens, blackens and oozes into me, until I stop trembling.

As his hands move lower, I start to heave and bile pushes up my throat. He rolls me over as I start to vomit. I feel him press into my back and as he moves the filthy panties to the side, I start to choke. He rams into me and at the same time he grabs a fistful of hair and he presses my face into the vomit. I keep choking and start to fight for air until the familiar darkness sucks me under.



I shoot up and roll away. I fall to the hard floor in the dark room and then kick at the tangled sheets around my legs. My breaths are ragged, short bursts of terror. The door slams open and light spills into the room.

Damian just looks at me. Our eyes meet for an intense moment before he says, “I made coffee. You might want to come and have some.” It’s not a question. I nod and get up off the floor. My body aches from the fall, but I do my best to not let the pain show on my face. I don’t look back at the bed and brush by him as I hurry out of the room.

I almost turn into the living room when Damian takes hold of my elbow.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he says and tugs lightly for me to change direction. He lets go immediately. He never touches me unless he really has to and I’m so thankful for that. He’s the coldest person on the face of the planet, but for some reason it feels comforting.

The kitchen light is bright and it brings me to a dead stop. My heart skips a beat before it continues pounding heavily. I take a few deep breaths as Damian walks by me.

It feels as if the walls are closing in on me.

Damian gives me a dark look before pouring coffee into a green mug. I watch him add one sugar and milk. I watch his wrist work as he stirs and then he leaves the green mug on the counter.

My eyes follow him across the kitchen as he puts the milk back in the fridge. He takes a bottle of water and as he unscrews the cap, he leans against the counter. Casually, his body exudes comfort with his legs stretched out in front of him. I watch his throat work the water down until I see the black ink.

“Your coffee’s getting cold, Cara,” he says, yanking me out of my fear-induced stupor.

“You’re not having any?” I ask, my voice sounding raspy. I clear my throat and with a trembling hand I brush some hair from my face.

He takes another sip of water and it doesn’t look like he’s going to answer me. Slowly, I walk over to the cup while keeping one eye on him. I pick up the mug and savor the warmth seeping into my fingers.

“I don’t drink coffee.” It’s the first normal thing I learn about him. He drinks water, no coffee.

“Thank you for the coffee,” I swallow the lump down with a hot sip of coffee. “How did you find out about me?” I ask while staring at the caramel liquid in my hands.

“Your uncle,” he says. “He gave me your basics. That you still have a lot to learn at twenty-five, I learned from how easily they found you.” My eyes snap up and anger starts to coil in my gut.

“Let me get this straight.” He caps the bottle of water and places it on the counter. “Tom organizes a whole new identity for you, a shitty one may I add, and you manage to hide for seven years … and then you just let them take you.”

I don’t think it’s a question. It doesn’t sound like one so I just stare at his chest. I try to breathe and exhale at the same time he does, but I need more air and my breathing speeds up.

“You survive an attack in which your parents are killed,” his voice drops with warning and the hair on my body rises, “and yet you still put yourself out there for them to get you?”

I put the cup down before I drop it and keep my body turned sideways, away from him. My anger at him fizzles away because he’s right. “I got careless,” I whisper wretchedly. “I forgot for one stupid moment that I wasn’t allowed to have a normal life.”

“There is no such thing as normal,” he says icily. “People like us, like you and me,” he waves carelessly between us, “are far from normal. We blend in until we become nothing more than shadows. You have to make people look the other way.” As he takes a breath I realize this is my first lesson from him on how to survive without an identity. He’s going to show me how to become a shadow … like him.