After the Storm (KGI #8)(61)

“He called me into his study. It was a room strictly off limits to everyone. My mother. Travis. Cammie. No one but him was ever allowed inside. Except business associates or friends he invited, but my mother had never stepped inside and neither had my brother and sister.

“I remember being so ill at ease. I was devastated by the loss of my mother. I was bitter and angry and convinced I was facing her killer. I worried what would happen to Travis and Cammie. If I would ever be allowed to see them again now that my mother—my only link to them—was gone.

“I hated the feeling that I was at his mercy. I hated . . . him. I’ve never hated anyone. I’ve never felt violence toward another human being, and yet if I’d had a gun in my hand in that moment I would have killed him.”

“Why did he call you into his study?” Donovan prompted softly.

She shuddered in his arms and then went completely still. Dread filled Donovan at her hesitation. He made himself loosen his grip around her because his emotions were in turmoil and his anger and frustration was mounting. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her inadvertently. To mark her beautiful skin. It made him physically ill to even think that his hand had caused a woman pain.

“He wanted . . . He wanted me to . . . Oh God, Donovan, it’s sick.”

Tears soaked into his shirt, the material clinging damply to his skin. He stroked a hand over her hair, murmuring words of comfort close to her ear.

“He wanted me to, for all practical purposes, replace my mother.”

Her voice was so filled with horror that each word was choked out as if it disgusted her to even say them out loud.

Donovan stilled as her statement played over and over in his mind. That could mean a lot of things, but he knew her stepfather’s intent was sick and twisted.

“He t-touched me. In a way he’d never touched me before. In fact, he had always been careful to maintain his distance. I wasn’t treated as family. As one of his children like Travis and Cammie. He was always so impersonal with me. And yet at times I could feel him staring at me and it made me so uncomfortable. I hated when he looked at me because I felt . . . unclean.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, over the soft strands of her hair, clenching his jaw in frustration that he had to sit here helpless, powerless to do anything but listen as she spilled the horror she’d endured for so many months.

Eve had said she wanted to kill her stepfather, but Donovan wanted the same. He’d suffer no remorse whatsoever, and he still didn’t have the entire story. One that was going to get a lot worse.

“He told me that if I wanted to maintain contact with Travis and Cammie, I would do exactly as he wanted. That I’d move into the house, and into his bed. That I would act as his mistress because he’d never marry me. Never give me that honor, as if I would consider it such! And if I complied with all his wishes, he’d forgive my past sins and he’d allow me to act as mother and sister to Travis and Cammie. But if I resisted, if I denied him anything he wanted, he’d make certain that I would never see my brother and sister again and that furthermore he’d make it so I had nothing. And then . . .”

Her voice trailed off and sobs shook her shoulders. He held her tighter, kissing her hair, stroking her back and rubbing in a circular motion, trying to offer comfort she badly needed.

“He told me to get on my knees and please him. That if he was satisfied by my effort, he would allow me into his house. But he wanted me to remember that if I disobeyed even once, he’d punish me and make me sorry I was ever born.”

“Son of a bitch,” Donovan swore. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Eve yanked away from him, her eyes stricken and wounded. “Of course I didn’t. How could I? He killed my mother! He disgusted me. I’d rather have nothing than to accept what he was offering.”

Donovan cupped her cheek. “Shh, darling Eve. I wasn’t disgusted with you. Never with you. I’m furious at how he tried to manipulate you.”

“He was f-f-furious when I told him to go to hell,” she choked out. “He hit me. It was a cold, calculated strike, one I knew he’d meted out many times before. On my mother. He split my lip and then threw a tissue at me and told me I’d better not get any blood on his rug. Then he told me to get out and never to come back. That I’d never see Travis and Cammie again and that he would ruin me. What was there to ruin? I had nothing. He’d seen to that. All I had left was my pride. My sense of self. And I wouldn’t allow him to take that too.”

Donovan leaned forward and kissed her forehead, the closest he’d come to actually kissing her lips. She closed her eyes and leaned into his mouth, her breaths escaping in long exhales.

“How then did you escape with Travis and Cammie?” Donovan asked, finally putting the pieces together. But what she said next made him realize that there was much more.

“Travis called me,” Eve said quietly. “It had been a few weeks since Walt had thrown me out of the house. I had no idea what he’d said to Travis and Cammie. I was certain that he would have poisoned them against me. But then Travis called, and he knew. He knew that I hadn’t just deserted him and Cammie. He begged me to help them. He was worried about Cammie. Oh God, Donovan. Travis said Walt was acting weirdly toward Cammie. Insisting that she sleep with him at night. Touching her inappropriately. Travis was terrified that if they remained there any longer that he would hurt her. Continue to hurt her.”