Killing Secrets by K.L Docter Page A

have learned so many of her preferences. She knew he’d been in her apartment because the pillow on the bed was hers and he’d given her books to read off the shelves in her living room. With the exception of the schoolgirl clothes he’d forced her to wear since she’d awakened the first time and the name he called her, she could almost believe he knew who she was.
    The distinctive aroma of spicy pastrami and mustard permeated the air and her mouth watered with anticipation. The box of dry, honeyed oat cereal he’d left her was long gone and she was hungry enough to wonder how many meals she’d missed since his last visit. But she couldn’t eat it. The last time he’d brought her something she couldn’t resist, it was laced with drugs. She’d passed out on the bed with him holding her close enough for her to feel his erection beneath her bare bottom, brushing her hair like some sick pervert.
    Never again! If the asshole intended to rape her she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
    “N-no,” she said, turning up her nose. “I’m not hungry.”
    He scowled. “Angel, you must eat.”
    “My name’s not Angel.”
    “Of course, it isn’t.” He smiled. “But it was always my special name for you. Just as you’ve always called me Robby. You know that.”
    Her sense of defeat raced through her and loosened her tongue. “How am I supposed to know that? I’m. Not. Angel!” she shouted for the hundredth time. “I keep telling you I don’t know who you are, or why you kidnapped me, or what you want.”
    She moderated her voice when his expression darkened. “Please,” she begged, “let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I just want to go home!”
    Without warning, he threw his food offerings on the floor beside her chair and wrapped his hands around her bare arms. “Your home is with me,” he said, punctuating each word with a shake. “Say it! Your heart is with me ! You love me! Me!”
    Terrified of the rage she’d provoked, she swallowed against the pain of his fingers digging furrows into her arms. “M-my heart,” she stammered, “is with you. I-I l-love you, R-Robby.”
    His brown eyes searched her face. She stared back for five seconds, ten, trying to decide if he believed her or not, before her gaze dropped to the tick in his jaw.
    “Liar.” His accusation came out flat, with no inflection whatsoever. “You still want Thorne.”
    She cried out when he unexpectedly lifted her from the chair so that her ankles and chain dangled in the air. “No, please! I don’t want anyone. I mean, I don’t want him !” Heaven help her, she didn’t know anyone named Patrick Thorne!
    Robby tossed her on the bed. He stared at the blood drying on her ankle and his expression closed down altogether, which she found more disturbing than his fury. It was like he was staring at her from a distant room, leaving her alone with a soulless husk of a man. “But you’ll hurt yourself trying to get back to him, won’t you?”
    “Robby. Please. Tell me what you want me to say. I’ll say it. I’ll give you whatever you want. Please !”
    Something changed in his expression. A new light entered his soulless eyes. An evil, monstrous light that scared her to death. He leaned over her and smiled. “You should have given him what he wanted,” he said, his voice changed, “because now you’re mine.”
    “I-I-Robby, please!” she stammered.
    “Robby has left the building,” he said, with an awful chuckle that curdled her blood.
    If she ever had a doubt that she was in the hands of the Angel Killer, she had no doubt now. Hysteria beat at her senses. She could barely breathe.
    Then she couldn’t. Her killer wrapped his cruel hand around her throat and squeezed until she saw bright flashes of light behind her darkening eyes. When he eased up, she gasped. And then her real terror began.
    Hot pain tore into her belly. Her breasts. Between her legs. Over and over. Every part of her ripped and torn until she screamed for