Sheltered

Chapter 2

Luca

Me

Do you think there’s a market for romance books with domestic abuse?

I hit send against my better judgement. Is it giving too much away? And should I even be taking the risk of texting Austin to begin with?

His message comes through a few seconds later.

Austin

I’m not sure there’s anything romantic about domestic abuse.

I blink at the phone, then take a deep breath. It twinges my sore ribs.

Me

Of course not. But like… what if it’s about someone escaping domestic abuse and riding off into the sunset with Mr. Right? Do you think there’s a market for that?

My phone rings in my hand—Austin’s name flashing across the screen. I accept the call, even though I shouldn’t. “Hello?”

“Why are you asking me that? Is something going on?”

I fight back a choked sob, trying to infuse some cheer into my voice. “Of course not. It’s just an idea. You wanted me to write again.”

Austin’s quiet. “Maybe not about that.” Of course not about that. Why would anyone want to ride off into the sunset with someone like me? “Are you okay?”

I smile at his concern, then wince. God, my fucking lip hurts. “Totally fine. So you really don’t think it would make a good story?”

“I don’t know, Luc.” Austin sighs. “You could always try to write it out and see how it feels?”

The only problem with that is I’m pretty sure anything I write will hit far too close to home. It’ll hurt. That’s how it’ll feel. “Yeah,” I croak. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll write something entirely different.” Or maybe I won’t write anything at all.

“Well, let’s brainstorm an idea.”

That makes me smile. “Okay.”

“Really?” Austin’s excitement is palpable.

“Sure,” I say, chuckling. Talking to Austin feels like home.

I miss the fuck out of home sometimes. Things were so easy back then.

The world made sense. I still had my parents.

I still got to see Austin. I wasn’t afraid to talk to him about my life or my problems. Hell, I wasn’t afraid to talk to him at all.

“Alright. Hit me, Luc. What are you thinking?”

I close my eyes, letting the real world fall away. “What about something Hallmarky? A Christmas story.”

Austin chuckles. “Okay. Main character names?”

I don’t know. I can’t even really think of any names right now. “I’m not sure.” I open my eyes, frustrated that, like always, there are no ideas in my head. It fucking sucks.

“That’s alright,” Austin says gently. “It’ll come to you, I’m sure. And when it does, you can text me.”

“Alright. I’ll take you up on that.” If an idea ever comes to me again. I’m pretty sure all my creativity is gone. I’m not sure I’ll ever find it again.

“Do you need me to let you go?” I don’t miss the hint of disappointment in Austin’s voice as he asks the question.

“No. I think we can talk for a while longer. Tell me about your day?”

Austin blows out a long breath. “Busy and hard. We had a major structure fire to put out. No lives were lost, but I swear I can still smell the smoke. You’d think I’d be immune to it by now, but clearly I’m not.”

I settle back on the couch, pulling my feet under me. “Where was it?”

“A newer duplex. It wasn’t around when you were still here. It’s gone now, though. We’re thinking electrical, so they should be able to rebuild at any rate.”

“I’m just glad no one was hurt.”

“God, me too.”

I close my eyes, letting Austin’s voice over the line soothe the ragged edges of fear and exhaustion. I’m barely even speaking, content to just let him ramble on about his day, when the sound of the key turning in the door makes my heart stop.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta go,” I whisper, panic rising in my chest. I lost track of time. I never lose track of time. I didn’t even make dinner. Oh fuck.

“What—” I cut Austin’s voice off by hanging up.

Please don’t call back. Please don’t call back. Please don’t call back.

I jump to my feet, rushing to the door just as it opens and Damien walks in. “Hi,” I breathe, trying to stay calm.

He gives me an unimpressed once-over. “You look like shit.”

The words don’t even hurt me. They never do anymore. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time and didn’t freshen up.”

Damien studies me, then grips my chin so hard it pulls on my lip, making it sting. “Lost track of time? Doing what? What could you possibly have going on that has you so busy you couldn’t take five minutes to make yourself presentable for me?”

I swallow hard, forcing my body to still. “I—”

“And what about dinner?” he snaps, not even stopping to breathe, and completely cutting me off. “Did you lose track of that too?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Um, I was hoping maybe we could have a date night?”

He searches my eyes, and I resist the urge to look away—to break eye contact. After what feels like a lifetime, his grip gentles and his lips curve into a warm smile. “Yeah? You want some time with me, love?”

I nod, thankful I got it right. “Please?”

Damien leans in and brushes his lips over mine. This time, he doesn’t pull back quickly—he drags his tongue over my bottom lip, making the stinging worse, and pushes it past my lips, forcing me to open for him.

I do.

It’s automatic.

He hums, teasing my tongue with his. Some part of me knows that this should turn me on. That it used to, even, but I feel nothing. Not a flutter in my stomach or a trip in my heart. Not a twitch in my cock. Nothing. It shouldn’t feel this way, this… empty.

I kiss him back, sighing into it, leaning closer to him.

When he pulls away, he presses a soft kiss to my nose, then smiles. “That sounds perfect, love. Go get freshened up, and I’ll change, then we’ll go.”

I’m turning to walk away when Damien wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. My body collides with his, and a sharp gasp tears through my throat at the sudden bloom of pain in my ribs. He gives me a curious look, so I breathe through it and smile up at him. “Took me by surprise.”

He smiles back before leaning down and rubbing his nose against mine. “I like that I can still surprise you. Did you talk to Austin today?”

My breath hitches, but I’m not falling for this again. “No, of course not. I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Good,” he murmurs, letting go of me. “Go get ready now.”

I don’t wait for him to stop me again. I just turn and leave the living room.

It’s strange living in this house. After growing up in a small town with below-the-poverty-line parents, I was overwhelmed the first time I saw it.

I didn’t even know they made houses with thirteen-foot ceilings and crown molding.

The walls were an elegant shade of cream, the kitchen expansive and unlike anything I’d seen before.

I can still remember Damien’s smile when I didn’t understand why anyone could possibly want two ovens.

I remember moving in here at nineteen and thinking I was in a mansion.

Now, it feels oppressive, but I’ve made my bed, and I have to lie in it. Quite literally. Damien is snoring beside me, and I’m blinking up at the ceiling, wondering how everything ended up this way. How I’ve wasted over seven years of my life here.

I’m not even sure how it started or how I let it happen. I just know that one day, I was happy, planning my future. And now, I’m… whatever this is.

Damien rolls toward me, wrapping his arm around me. He squeezes, making my breath catch. Goddammit, my ribs hurt.

I blow out a deep breath, closing my eyes.

I need to sleep, even though my ribs are throbbing and my lungs feel like they’re bruised.

Tomorrow, I have to clean the house. I also need to get some extra groceries.

I’ll pick up ingredients to make cookies.

Something simple and sweet. That would be a nice treat, I think.

Damien really likes chocolate chip cookies, so maybe it’ll make for a good evening.

My body grows heavy, my mind going fuzzy as I think about all the things on my to-do list for tomorrow.

I’m not sure what wakes me up. Maybe movement, possibly something else, but then I hear the chime my phone makes when it’s being unlocked, and my body and mind snap to attention. My eyes fly open, and I glance at Damien.

He’s sitting up, my phone in his hand. I take a deep breath. He’s not going to find anything. I always delete my calls to Austin. It’s okay. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to regulate my nervous system.

“I thought you weren’t talking to Austin.”

The cold tone of his voice has my heart racing. “I’m not,” I lie.

Damien’s eyes find mine in the dark. I can’t read his expression at all. Then he glances down at my phone. “Do you think there’s a market for romance books with domestic violence?”

My stomach twists into a knot. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t even defend myself. I didn’t delete them. I didn’t fucking delete them. My lungs are burning from holding my breath, my heart pounding so hard I can hear the echo of it in my head.

The silence stretches between us—loud and suffocating.

Finally, he speaks. “You think I’m abusing you?”

My throat tightens. “Of course not. It was just an idea. I was thinking about writing again, and I—”

“You wanted to write a story about domestic abuse?” Damien says, cutting me off. “Is that it? You wanted to write me into one of your silly little stories like I’m the villain?”

My body starts to tremble. “N-no, of course not. No. I just—”

Damien grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling me into a sitting position. The scent of sour wine washes over my face as he leans in close to me. “I give you everything, Luca. This house. Your clothes. Your car. Everything you have, you have because of me. And this is how you see me?”

I shake my head, but his grip tightens. “I don’t see you that way at all. It wasn’t—it wasn’t about you. It was an idea. Just an idea.”

He yanks my head back. “That’s the problem with you, Luca. You twist everything I do and say. You act like such a fucking martyr. You’re dramatic. And for what?”

“I don’t do that. I’m sorry. It was just a book idea. It has nothing to do with you.”

I can tell right away those were the wrong words.

“That’s bullshit, Luca. You were texting Austin. You know how I feel about him. What if he thinks I hurt you? Why would you even give him that idea?”

Because you do. All the time. My feelings, my body, my head. It’s hurt, hurt, hurt all the time. I want to scream the words. I want to shove them down his throat and make him swallow them.

“You betrayed me,” Damien whispers.

“I didn’t,” I whisper back. “I promise I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Something flashes across his face, and it makes my blood run cold. He releases his tight grip on my hair, deceptively calm. “Get undressed and on your hands and knees. It seems like you need another lesson on who you belong to.”

I hesitate only for a second, but it’s a second too long. Damien wraps his hand around my throat, jerking me forward. “Now, Luca. Don’t make me ask twice.” He lets go, shoving me back, and stands, leaving the room.

I strip my clothes off quickly, my brain turning to white noise, and do what he asked.

I try to regulate my breathing, try to calm the frantic beating of my heart. It’s okay. I can do this. It’s not the first time. I just need to let him get it out of his system. I’ll be okay.

The door creaks, and I flinch. I don’t even mean to. It just happens. I force myself to inhale another deep breath.

The bed dips, and then Damien’s hand is on my back—making a soft path up my skin. It’s gentle—reverent, almost—and it sends a chill through me. Fingers tangle in my hair and yank my head back. A warm body presses against me. Teeth sink into my shoulder.

I close my eyes.

The sound of lube being opened has my jaw clenching. I’m expecting fingers, at least one. Hopefully two. If I’m lucky, three.

There aren’t any. Just the blunt head of Damien’s cock against my already sore entrance. He’s not going to prep me? Panic rises in my chest, and my breath gets caught in my lungs. “Damien, wait—”

He doesn’t wait. He just presses forward roughly. Pain explodes through me. “I need… Can you just…” I stop talking when he grasps my hair and shoves my face into the pillow.

“Be quiet, love. You’re still stretched from last night. You’ll be fine.”

I won’t be fine. This fucking hurts. “Stop,” I croak out, my voice trembling.

Damien freezes. “Excuse me?”

“Please, Damien.”

For a second, I let myself believe he will. I let myself believe he won’t hurt me this way. He pulls away, his weight disappearing. Relief rushes in, warm and potent, making my body slump and my lungs fill with oxygen.

The relief is short-lived. I’m being lifted, pushed. I land hard on the ground. Fight or flight kicks in, and I stand, trying to run.

Damien’s in front of me before I can get far. I can just barely make out his eyes, but even without the light, I know how they look. Cold. Empty. Emotionless. My fear ratchets up. He grabs my throat hard, shoving me into the wall. It knocks the air out of me, forcing a gasp from my lungs.

He squeezes, pressing against my windpipe with his palm. “You don’t get to tell me to stop, Luca. You don’t get to ask for things.”

My head swims, my lungs screaming for air. I can’t breathe. Holy fuck, I can’t breathe.

My feet leave the ground, I think. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen making the room spin. I open my mouth to say Damien’s name, to try to get him to let me go, but my voice won’t work.

He loosens his hold, and I drag in a breath—one single breath—thankful for the reprieve. My head slams against the wall. Then again. The hand tightens.

Another slam. Something cracks. My vision goes blurry, the room spinning in and out of focus.

There’s something loud. A ringing. High-pitched and painful in my ears. Damien’s lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything over the ringing. It’s so loud. What is it?

Pain explodes in my head. Damien smiles, but his eyes are still empty.

I can’t breathe.

The world goes dim.

All I can see is a pinprick.

Him.

He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.

The world goes black.