Melt For Us(Holiday Masked Men #2)(17)

“What the fuck, man,” Micah snaps, and they’re all on alert.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going,” Damien coldly threatens.

“My bad,” the guy says. A royal blue mask hides his identity, and he apologetically holds up his hands. “I meant no harm. Wasn’t watching where I was going—”

Suddenly, my glass falls from my grasp, shattering against the floor.

My heart hammers.

I’m no longer breathing.

I’m paralyzed with emotions I can’t comprehend.

I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“Shit,” the guy curses, moving closer as I step back, nearly dragging Micah in front of me in the process. “You okay?”

That voice.

I know that voice.

It’s him.

Eric Spellman.

My rapist.



“Quinn?” Damien questions, his jaw clenched tight with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asks, grabbing my arm.

And I flinch.

“Quinn,” Damien repeats, louder.

“Quinn,” Eric cheerfully lets out, as if nothing’s happened between us.

As if he didn’t ignore me when I begged him to stop. When I said no to him. Over and over. When I struggled beneath him the best that I could, while he pinned me against the stiff mattress. When he gave me no choice other than to take his invasion, whether I consented or not.

“It’s good to see you again,” he begins, until I turn fast on my heel.

Bolting toward the front door, I do the only thing I can think of in this moment.

This time, I escape.





CHAPTER 9





My whole world collapses around me as I run out into the night, embracing the cold, winter air. My chest tightens, and my vision becomes blurry. Bumping into several people on the front steps, I trip and fall onto the hard pavement, tearing the skin off my knees.

Gasping for air to fill my deprived lungs, tears fill my eyes. I can hear everyone asking if I’m okay while they try to help me to my feet, yet I swat them away, screaming out in hysteria.

“Quinn,” Micah shouts from over my shoulder, quickly dropping to his knees beside me.

Stumbling back to my feet, I ignore his existence.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

I can’t wrap my head around any of this.

“You’re bleeding,” Jensen points out, gripping my arm to keep me steady.

“I want him dead,” I begin to sob, hunching over as my knees finally give out, now throbbing with pain. “I want him fucking dead.”

“Come here,” Damien pleads, kneeling on the ground, pulling me into his arms.

“No,” I refuse, and the pain from my trauma consumes me.

They were right. I never spoke a word about it to anyone, until I admitted it to them just a few days ago. I pretended it never happened. I never had the chance to move on. I never grieved.

Never healed.

And now, everything is coming back.

“Quinn,” Micah quietly says, placing his hand on mine. “It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. We got you.”

Blinking up at him through my tears of sorrow, I finally break down. Crying. Screaming. Slamming my shaking fists on his chest, he pulls me onto his lap, cradling me in his arms. Rocking me back and forth, soothing me. Protecting me.

“Is that him,” Damien asks, barely any sound to his voice. “Is that him, Quinn?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s him.”

“Damien, wait,” Jensen shouts, chasing after him.

“I’m so sorry,” Micah softly says, holding the back of my head. “I’m so sorry, baby. You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“You promise?” I ask between sobs, while he carefully removes my mask.

“Yes, Quinn.” He stares endlessly into my puffy, red eyes, and takes my face between his hands. “I promise.”

Effortlessly lifting me into his arms, he carries me to the Jeep while I hold onto him for dear life. As he places me into the passenger seat, I push every thought and flashback into the back of my head, locking them away for good.

And within seconds, I become numb.

He fastens my seatbelt for me and dries my face with his sleeve. Just as he’s about to shut my door, my fingers clasp around his wrist.

“Micah,” I softly mutter, grasping the collar of his shirt and bringing him back to me. “Thank you,” I whisper, wholeheartedly. “For always being here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he tells me, pressing a lingering kiss on my forehead.

“Micah.”

His voice catches us off guard. Jensen grabs his shoulder, and even with the mask hiding his expression, the look in his eyes terrifies me. It’s evident that something’s wrong.

Micah shuts my door, facing his back to me. “Where’s Damien?”

“I can’t find him,” he dryly replies, pulling him further away, until I can no longer hear them.

My ears begin ringing, and goosebumps rise on my skin. I’ve forgotten my jacket in Sarah’s car. It’s such a cold night; I’m able to see my own breath. My thoughts are in shambles. My knees are killing me. I’m still bleeding, and there’s somehow dried blood on my hands. There’s a full moon tonight. I wish I was curled up in bed.