Objective (Bloodlines #2)(43)

“My turn,” he spit and my heart froze in my chest. With a tug I’m chest to chest with him and he had my hand pinned at my rear. He leaned his head down to me and started to lick from my collarbone up to my ear. “Ezra...” I begged. “Please, please stop. Don't.” He paused momentarily and I sucked in a deep shuddering breath. I choked on my tears. “Please, stop…”

“No. I don't think I will,” he whispered in my ear, and that was when I knew I was screwed. I stomped on his instep with my heel and twisted out of his grip. He stumbled marginally but I gained no real distance. He licked his lips and lunged for me. A scream ripped from my lungs as he tackled me to the ground. All the breath was knocked out of me from the weight of him landing on top of me. He flipped me to my back. I clawed at his arms and torso but he didn't seem to feel pain. Tears streamed down my face. This cannot be happening. I will not let this happen. I will not. A hand reared back before connecting with my cheekbone. The sick sound of the slap made me scream out again. I tasted blood in my mouth and swallowed thickly to keep the bile in my throat from rising up. He placed his palms on my breasts and squeezed cruelly before he leaned down to my face. I mustered all my courage and spit in his mouth just before it touched me. I was kicking my legs and twisting my hips furiously to break free but he was so large I couldn’t shake him loose. He sat up and wiped his mouth. “Wrong move, sugar,” he ground out. His black eyes shone with hate or maybe it was jealousy. Either way I needed to think fast. But I wasn’t fast enough. His fist connected with my temple, sending white hot pain radiating through my body, and everything faded to black.

I was on my stomach and being jostled strangely. I blinked a few times to get my bearings. A smack to my ass cracked through the air over his grunting. Ezra. He finished roughly and smacked my rear again. “Too bad I had to take you unconscious, sugar. Bet you’re a wild ride.” He breathed into my ear. There was pain in my head and rib cage. His words sent me over the edge and I lost my stomach all over the mattress. With a disgusted grunt he removed himself from me and walked to the bathroom. I heard the water running and I knew I should move. I should do something. Anything, but I was paralyzed. I’m dirty. I felt vulgar and tainted. A feeling rose in my chest as I listened to him whistle while he cleaned up in my bathroom, in my house. It was a feeling I had never felt before, a combination of rage, hate, and evil. I slithered to the edge of the bed and fished around the nightstand drawer for the handgun that resided there. I had only shot it twice, for practice. It was heavier than I remembered and very cold. “Maybe I’m just weaker,” I’d thought. I swung my legs over the bed and pushed up. The room rotated left, then right, and I sat back down, breathing rapidly. The sink turned off and I heard him walk out of the bathroom. “Till next time!” he shouted as he passed the open bedroom door. Something in me snapped. I shoved off the bed, gun in hand and followed him to the living room.

“Ezra,” I called, “wait.” He turned around and although I was the one with the gun he didn’t look the least bit affected by the situation. The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. My rage amplified at his nonchalance. I lifted the gun with shaking hands and took aim. I stared wildly at the man in front of me, unable to focus on anything else. My heart hammered in my chest. This was a monster, the kind that haunts children’s nightmares. The monster that ruined me, that hurt me. The monster that violated me in ways I never dreamed of. I heard the sound of the gun’s safety releasing, the exhale of breath. My hands trembled uncontrollably and then, the deafening sound of a bullet ripped through the air. The gun bucked in my hand, hard. It startled me from my trance. I closed my eyes and flinched before opening them and letting everything come into focus slowly. Cane crumpled to the ground, his hand clutching at his chest. Everything moved in slow motion as red started to seep through his shirt and onto his hand. Where did he come from? Why was he hurt? Why was Ezra standing, mouth agape, staring at me?

A gut-wrenching howl ripped from me as I watched the color start to drain from Cane’s handsome face, his haunted eyes never leaving mine. Adrenaline had slaughtered my body and I didn't know what to do. What had I done? I couldn’t breathe, it felt like my chest was being squeezed with a vice grip. Ezra crouched down, wide-eyed, next to Cane. He murmured something in his ear but all I took in were Cane’s eyes staring into mine, full of hurt and confusion. The gun dropped from my hand onto the hardwood floor. It made a loud clatter as it hit. Cane’s eyes, those beautiful amber-colored eyes, fluttered closed. “NO!” I shrieked. My heart stopped beating and my breath left me altogether. This couldn’t be. I stood motionless, listening, waiting. His beautiful caramel skin looked ashen. He was gone. His eyes were still closed. My beautiful love was gone. How did this happen? My hands were clenched into fists at my sides and my fingernails were digging into my palms painfully. My entire body was shaking so much I don’t know how I was still standing. Grief flooded my chest as the coppery smell of blood and gun smoke filled my nostrils. Panic kept me rooted in my spot. This wasn’t real. What had I done to him?





I wake up struggling for air and clutching my throat, and then a loud bang draws my attention to the monitors. Bentley is outside trying to ram down the door. I stumble out of bed shouting that I’m fine and open the door just as he’s gearing up to try and shoulder it open. He flies through the doorway and luckily I side step just enough that he doesn't hit me, but he does plow into the countertop. I can’t help but laugh - I know it hurt - but as he shakes it off I can see blood seeping through his shirt at his shoulder.