her couch and curl into the fetal position, but for now she needed to get ready.
She was strong. She could do anything. She’d proved that the other night.
Just get through the day.
She brushed the tears away and flipped on the faucet, splashing water over her face until the icy wetness washed away some of her cloudy haze.
The cold liquid slid over her hand and water pooled in her open palms as a beam of sunlight caught the pale-blue veins of her wrists.
She studied them, frowning. She twisted and turned them in every direction, searching for the barest hint of the bruises Mason had left there, and couldn’t find anything.
How could that be? They’d still been visible to her yesterday.
She walked over to the window, holding her hands up to the bright morning light and found…nothing. She rubbed the skin with her thumb, peering so closely her eyes crossed. Nothing. Not even the barest trace.
Slowly, almost numb, she returned to the sink and turned off the faucet. Mason had been right. He’d told her they’d be gone by the time she returned to school and they were. She wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone.
No one would know she wasn’t normal.
She looked in the mirror and the truth hit her.
She wanted them back.
Chapter Eleven
One Month Later
The only thing good about Mason’s day was that he’d gotten to blow up a building. In his current mean-son-of-a-bitch mood, there was something supremely satisfying about watching ten stories of concrete and steel crumple to the ground in a cloud of dust.
He pulled a beer from the fridge but before he opened it, he slid it back onto the shelf and shut the door.
Fuck it. He reached for the bottle of aged scotch instead, grabbing a high-ball glass.
He had to get his shit together. Put Anna behind him. He gave himself the same speech every night. She wasn’t coming back. A month had passed and he hadn’t even gotten a fucking text message.
It was over.
He needed to accept it and move on.
He drove everyone crazy. His employees stayed away from him. His mild-mannered assistant threatened to quit. He’d scared a poor clerk at the grocery store when it hadn’t been her fault he’d stupidly gone to the place he’d met Anna.
A couple nights ago, ’Rissa finally had enough and stormed in his house in full Mistress mode, demanding he pull himself together. She’d bitched, cajoled, threatened to hogtie him and drag him to some private party.
He’d thrown her out on her leather-covered ass.
There was no way he could play with someone else, not even in the most casual sense. Anna had lodged herself in his heart and refused to let go. All he could do was wait and pray it got better.
He poured two fingers of the brown, smoky liquid and downed it in one gulp. The expensive scotch hit his stomach like a fireball burning his insides and reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He shrugged and poured another half a glass. He was too damn tired to eat.
He made his way to his great room and sank down on the sofa, flicking on the TV. Bone-weary, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table and scrubbed his hands over his face before staring blankly at the plasma flat screen.
God, he was such a fucking idiot.
He should have left well enough alone the night he’d tried to end things with Anna. Should have stuck to the plan and left when he’d had a chance. But because he’d wanted her, was desperate for that small inkling of hope, he’d convinced himself one night with her his way wouldn’t make a difference.
He’d been wrong.
One night had made missing her pure hell.
At least before he could have lived with the what ifs and the she’d nevers .
But now, fuck, now he had to live with the Technicolor memory of her absolute submission. Live with the sound of her screams as she came over and over reverberating in his brain. Live with the gut-wrenching knowledge that no matter how good it had been, it wasn’t enough.
That in the end he’d
She was strong. She could do anything. She’d proved that the other night.
Just get through the day.
She brushed the tears away and flipped on the faucet, splashing water over her face until the icy wetness washed away some of her cloudy haze.
The cold liquid slid over her hand and water pooled in her open palms as a beam of sunlight caught the pale-blue veins of her wrists.
She studied them, frowning. She twisted and turned them in every direction, searching for the barest hint of the bruises Mason had left there, and couldn’t find anything.
How could that be? They’d still been visible to her yesterday.
She walked over to the window, holding her hands up to the bright morning light and found…nothing. She rubbed the skin with her thumb, peering so closely her eyes crossed. Nothing. Not even the barest trace.
Slowly, almost numb, she returned to the sink and turned off the faucet. Mason had been right. He’d told her they’d be gone by the time she returned to school and they were. She wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone.
No one would know she wasn’t normal.
She looked in the mirror and the truth hit her.
She wanted them back.
Chapter Eleven
One Month Later
The only thing good about Mason’s day was that he’d gotten to blow up a building. In his current mean-son-of-a-bitch mood, there was something supremely satisfying about watching ten stories of concrete and steel crumple to the ground in a cloud of dust.
He pulled a beer from the fridge but before he opened it, he slid it back onto the shelf and shut the door.
Fuck it. He reached for the bottle of aged scotch instead, grabbing a high-ball glass.
He had to get his shit together. Put Anna behind him. He gave himself the same speech every night. She wasn’t coming back. A month had passed and he hadn’t even gotten a fucking text message.
It was over.
He needed to accept it and move on.
He drove everyone crazy. His employees stayed away from him. His mild-mannered assistant threatened to quit. He’d scared a poor clerk at the grocery store when it hadn’t been her fault he’d stupidly gone to the place he’d met Anna.
A couple nights ago, ’Rissa finally had enough and stormed in his house in full Mistress mode, demanding he pull himself together. She’d bitched, cajoled, threatened to hogtie him and drag him to some private party.
He’d thrown her out on her leather-covered ass.
There was no way he could play with someone else, not even in the most casual sense. Anna had lodged herself in his heart and refused to let go. All he could do was wait and pray it got better.
He poured two fingers of the brown, smoky liquid and downed it in one gulp. The expensive scotch hit his stomach like a fireball burning his insides and reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He shrugged and poured another half a glass. He was too damn tired to eat.
He made his way to his great room and sank down on the sofa, flicking on the TV. Bone-weary, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table and scrubbed his hands over his face before staring blankly at the plasma flat screen.
God, he was such a fucking idiot.
He should have left well enough alone the night he’d tried to end things with Anna. Should have stuck to the plan and left when he’d had a chance. But because he’d wanted her, was desperate for that small inkling of hope, he’d convinced himself one night with her his way wouldn’t make a difference.
He’d been wrong.
One night had made missing her pure hell.
At least before he could have lived with the what ifs and the she’d nevers .
But now, fuck, now he had to live with the Technicolor memory of her absolute submission. Live with the sound of her screams as she came over and over reverberating in his brain. Live with the gut-wrenching knowledge that no matter how good it had been, it wasn’t enough.
That in the end he’d
Similar Books
