Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2) by P. Jameson

was like it never happened. Every bit of it was useless when she was stuck in a nightmare from her past.
    Time to leave. Time to escape this body that was going to be brutally used. She couldn’t stay.
    Like always, she separated her mind from the physical. But there was no escaping this dream. She’d have to watch.
    Punk covered her eyes, sobbing, but the scene before her played out anyway. Every wrong touch sent her stomach roiling. So many times she’d bore the dream, trying to ignore the horror that occurred. But this time she was angry. This time she wasn’t going to stand there and watch herself be violated again .
    She was going to scream and cry. Scratch and claw. Whatever she could do to fight it. If it didn’t work then fine, but she was going to fucking fight. She didn’t have to give this piece of shit one more second of her life.
    Enough was enough.
    She screamed. Shrieked with all the energy she could muster. It felt good. The burn in her throat was a cleansing fire.
    More. She needed more.
    The sound that came from her throat split her ears but she couldn’t care. She felt freer than she ever had. The scene became horrific. In the distance, her body was bloody. Her attacker, vicious. But she screamed and screamed, letting the sound send the biggest fuck-you to her psyche.
    No more nightmares of this bastard. No more. She was done. No matter how many times she had to scream her head off, she was going to end this.
    She screamed as tears blistered her cheeks, reliving the painful invasion. She screamed because she hadn’t been able to that night and regretted it.
    She screamed as everything went black.
    Punk let out a ragged sob. Thank you. Dear god, thank you .
    The scene was shuddered in precious darkness. The sweet, sweet darkness she’d experienced in the hospital. The one that felt like home. Her darkness. The scent of pine and lemongrass filled her nostrils replacing the stench of the alley.
    Stay. Don’t go. Darkness, don’t leave me .
    It was so gentle. So careful. It reminded her of Beast. Her Beast.
    Punk shivered as the darkness enveloped her, wrapping all around until she felt cocooned in its warmth. She never wanted it to leave.
    Stay .
    “Stay,” she sobbed.
    “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was a rough breath in her ear.
    Punk opened her eyes to find Beast staring, his brow etched with concern. He knelt on the edge of the bed, his hand gentle on her face.
    “Beast?”
    “It’s me.”
    Beast was her darkness. He was the way to healing. In her heart she knew with him, she could mend the wounds that continued to bleed. A complete healing started with her trusting this man.
    A sob ripped from her throat and she launched herself at him, completely oblivious of the sounds she was making. His powerful arms came around her, securing her to his chest. How they could be so tender and strong at the same time was baffling. She clung to him with a desperate grip, begging him with her body to please not go. His palm came up to cradle the back of her head.
    “I’m here,” he murmured. “For as long as you want me to be.”
    “Stay with me. Please. Tonight, stay.”
    He pulled away to stare into her eyes. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, he nodded.
    Punk laid back, still shaking from the adrenaline of the dream, and Beast climbed into the bed next to her. Realizing he was completely naked, she gasped.
    “Uh, let me go get pants,” he muttered. “I just ran in here so fast when I heard you scream.”
    She stopped him. “It’s okay.” She wore her tank top and panties so they were even. Almost. And she didn’t want him to leave for even a minute. Not right now, when she was so raw.
    He settled against the pillows and pulled her into his arms. Home . Punk let out a shaky sigh.
    This was right. She could feel it deep in her bones. He was the one she could trust.
    She snuggled deeper into his embrace. If she could crawl inside him, she would.
    “Better?” he whispered.
    “Yes.”