CHAPTER EIGHT
ARACELY
I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night, and in a way, I felt naked, exposed without him nearby. His intensity soothed me, his presence calming. At least, when he was around, everyone knew they couldn’t come near. Now, here I was being accosted and cornered by the man I least wanted to see.
“Micah, please.”
“Come on, Aracely. Mistress may have given you food and shelter, but I’m the only one who could teach how to survive in this place. Without a Dom you’re just a sheep out for the slaughter. Let me be the one.”
“I already told you, I’m not here for that.”
“But you were definitely there for that asshole that hangs around you. Did you know he threatened everyone in here if they got near you?”
I was a bit taken by the statement, but not surprised. He would be the type to bring anyone down who came near me. It was an inexplicably warming thought.
“Let me make you feel good, baby,” Micah’s hand slid down the curve of my ass and I placed my hands on his chest as he tugged me close.
It wasn’t that Micah was a devious man, nor was he unattractive, I think that was the problem. He’d wanted me since I first met him, but I just didn’t want him in return and he didn’t seem to want to accept that. He was a handsome man, dark features, tall and muscular, he could have anyone in the room. Yet he wanted me, the broken one. The one who was slowly being taken by the one man who could destroy her.
A wave of panic crashed over me as soon as his hands engulfed my upper arms. My throat began to close, constricting my airflow, and a scream built up in my chest as his touch burned my bare skin.
“Aracely, are you listening to me?”
I stared back at him, when the curdling scream escaped my lips. I struggled to get away from his grip. At that point, I didn’t even realize who was holding me anymore. I just wanted them to stop.
“Aracely!”
Micah’s voice was sharp, yet distant. A wave of dizziness passed over me and suddenly he wasn’t there anymore, and my body was crumpling to the floor. Through my blurred vision, a familiar figure held Micah pinned against the wall. His growl eased my panic, slowly bringing me back to reality.
“Eric,” I whispered hoarsely, trying to gain my footing back. He ignored me, lost in his own fury. He was saying something harsh, threatening Micah.
“What did you do to her?”
He forced his forearm against Micah’s throat, Eric’s muscles flexing from his restraint. He’d kill him if I didn’t stop him.
“Eric,” my voice rose just enough for him to turn to me. His eyes met mine. Anger, worry, and concern etched along his furrowed brow.
Forgetting Micah, he crouched down beside me, anguish reflected in his eyes as he cradled my head. I flinched expecting that same burning pain, but his touch soothed me.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
“He didn’t hurt me,” my voice cracked and shook.
“He had his hands on you.”
“He wasn’t going to hurt me. He wouldn’t.” My eyes went to Micah’s, which were watching me with concern.
“I’m alright,” I spoke to him reassuringly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He reached out for me and instinctively I shielded myself with Eric.
“Fuck,” he grunted and swept his arms around me. Lifting me off the ground, he turned to Micah.
“Touch her again and I won’t think twice about putting a bullet between your eyes.”
I hid my face in his neck as he walked us past the crowd of curious onlookers that had formed a circle around me. As soon as the door clicked, I raised my head to catch him watching me. Walking us to a nearby couch, he took a seat, adjusting me on his lap. His eyes never left mine, and heat coiled in my loins. Penetrating heat that flowed in waves between us. But although I knew he felt it too, he didn’t try to touch me.
I was still shaking and with those cerulean eyes on me, I started to squirm uncomfortably.
“Stop.”
His command was firm, leaving me with chills in its wake. His hand felt warm on my thigh, comforting, not burning. I stared at it for a long time, wondering why. Why did I like his touching me, and why did another man’s touch burn me?
“What happened back there?”
I hesitated. Instead I focused on his chest. On his black shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, and I fiddled with a button, my fingertips gently grazing his skin. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say, let alone an explanation as to what happened. Because there was no explanation. It had never happened before, and it hadn’t happened with him. Instead of answering his question with an empty response, I spoke of what I remembered.
“When I met Shane, he’d been a sweet man, kind. I felt like somebody had finally come into my life to protect, instead of harming me. That I was finally going to be taken care of…”
My voice cracked as I struggled with the tears threatening to fall. I paused, my throat constricting once again, and I looked up for an instant, understanding laced his gaze, and he stroked my back soothingly silently waiting until I was ready to continue.
“That first time was the end of my happiness. That was the end of any pleasure I could find in a touch.”
I lifted his hand off my thigh and stroked his fingers, mesmerized by how gentle they felt, yet moments before they were ready to kill someone for me.
“I was seventeen, I didn’t know any better. When I agreed to marry him, I didn’t think it meant… I didn’t think he’d be so depraved. I was so young, so naive, and he took advantage of me being alone in this world. He raped me that first time. I told him to go slow, but he didn’t listen. I got scared and pushed him away, so he got mad, he got so mad.”
I gripped his hand as I focused on the wall, my eyes seeing Shane on top of me. The look of rage that crossed his features when I said no. “He beat me and ripped through me without a care in the world. Fucked me like a vile creature, grunting and sweating. I could still smell his wretched breath, still feel how hard he held me. He’d snapped my wrist that night.”
“Fuck,” his deep rumble reverberated through me, and I melted into him.
My eyes fell on my right hand and he wrapped his fingers around my delicate wrist. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it softly. His eyes met mine as his lips touched my skin, and It shocked me how this man believed he could possibly erase all the bruises that covered my soul.
“I’m broken,” I breathed, a sob slipping from between my lips.
“Aren’t we all?”
His response held so much weight and I realized that he had his own demons. That this desperation I sensed from him was something else. He was seeking atonement perhaps, a need to feel loved, a way out.
His lips met mine in a whirlwind of urgency. His hands on me only assured me that I was safe. Safe in the arms of this dark soul. I was falling for a damaged man, and I could only pray that he wouldn’t destroy what was left of me.