Chapter 5
five
A cold draft blows across my legs. October in South Carolina isn’t usually chilly, but it has its moments.
I know I shouldn’t sleep with my windows open.
All the guys at Grovewood Ink have told me repeatedly how much of a safety hazard it is.
But they don’t know the life I grew up in.
The kind with real hazards you find outside of Hallmark towns like this one.
I’ve lived in houses where lock your door meant the one leading to my bedroom to keep the local dealer from crawling into my bed after my parents passed out when I was fifteen.
Aria was the only person who made sure I could always take care of myself.
She taught me how to fight and who to trust… no one.
What I could never admit to her were the dark desires I have always harbored, the ones that grew harder and harder to deny the older I got.
The ones that told me a masked stranger slipping into my room in the middle of the night, watching me sleep, completely and unknowingly at his mercy, lit a fire deep inside me that burns to this day, hotter than anything ever has before.
Just as the thought crosses my mind for the hundredth time, the floorboards creak in the living room, and I gasp, sitting straight up in my bed.
Doug raises his head from the end of the bed, a low growl building in his throat.
I pull my heavy black duvet up to my chin.
The weight of it has always been so calming to me, but not tonight.
I’ve never been scared living alone, never until this very moment.
“Don’t be stupid, Vanessa. There’s nothing there.” I tell myself, petting Doug’s back. “It’s fine, baby. Just an old house.”
He looks back at me, his expression telling me he thinks I’m a dumb bitch.
But I keep him in kibble so he won’t argue.
Kicking the blankets on top of him, I climb out of bed, closing my bedroom window and making my way across the cool wood floor into the living room.
All is quiet, nothing at all disturbed. The windows and doors are shut and locked, which might be a first for me.
The half-empty glass of water I always leave next to the kitchen sink still sits untouched.
Dust particles float through the dim light shining over the back door.
Breathing deeply, I close my eyes. Doug nudges my hand, and I stroke his soft ears.
It’s such a simple gesture, but it’s given me peace since the day I brought him home.
“We’re okay. Everything’s fine, boy. Let’s just go back to bed.” I tell him, patting his side as I walk back towards the bedroom.
He makes a lap of the small living room before following me back to the bedroom and curling back into a ball at the foot of the bed.
When I found Doug at the shelter here in Grovewood, he was skin and bones with a stupid name like Curtis or Travis or something like that.
Doug felt like a name fit for the gentleman he really is.
They told me he was rescued from a dogfighting ring where he’d been used as bait because he wasn’t much of a fighter, even though he’s such a big boy.
He’s a purebred Doberman, so anyone who came to the shelter looking for a family pet had been scared to adopt him.
His size and general willingness to avoid most people were instant red flags.
But not to me. I took one look at his beautiful chocolate brown eyes and knew he was just waiting there for me to find him.
We’ve been inseparable ever since. I’ve heard it said sometimes pets find a person when you need them most, and that always felt like bullshit to me before I found Doug.
Now I can’t imagine my life without him in it.
I try to go back to sleep, staring a hole through the ceiling for what feels like an eternity.
Do I want there to be some unknown intruder in my house?
Of course not. But does the idea of a masked man breaking in, finding me here, and bending me to his mercy turn me on?
Way more than it should. Civilized society would be appalled by the thoughts constantly circling in my mind, but I can’t help them. I never could.
My eyes finally begin drifting closed, my lashes like heavy weights sinking, dragging my body back into the depths of the deepest sleep. My dreams beckon me back, as inviting and safe as they’ve always been.
“Così bella, diavolina. So fucking beautiful.” His deep voice says.
I’m paralyzed, completely frozen. Maybe in fear, maybe from something much more sinister. His fingertips drag from my ankle to the hollow behind my knee, and goosebumps spread across my skin like wildfire. Where the hell is my dog and why isn’t he eating this man right now?
I try to speak, but nothing comes out. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears so loudly I'm sure the man can hear it where he stands. I don't want to face him, afraid seeing him will make this dream a reality.
“Look at me. Show me those beautiful eyes.” He demands, and a shiver runs down my spine.
The defiant part of me wants to bury my face in the mattress and never give him what he wants, but my body betrays me.
I turn to face him, and I’m filled with equal parts horror and intrigue.
I want to scream, to cry out for help, but I don't.
He’s wearing an ornate mask, concealing most of his face.
t’s white with a bold black sunburst symbol on the forehead, looking almost ceremonial.
The lower portion is adorned with intricate gold filigree, accented with small, blood red jewels.
His mouth is visible beneath the gold, showing his wide grin and straight white teeth.
His skin is inky black, as if it’s painted.
Surely he must be the devil himself, come to drag me to hell.
A dark hood is pulled over his head, covering any distinguishing features.
His hand skims higher, dragging across the cotton fabric of my panties and up my ribcage. My breathing picks up, my heart racing inside my chest. Why haven’t I screamed? Fought back? Heat builds in my core as his hand grazes the side of my breast, a gasp escaping my lips.
His eyes flick to mine. Even though they’re sunken into the mask, the deep dark brown feels so familiar.
His slender fingers find their way around my neck, resting there but not squeezing.
My pulse thrums against his skin and he smirks, the white of his teeth a deadly contrast against his black skin.
“Do I make you nervous?” He flexes his fingers, and I swallow instinctively. I move to shake my head, but he grips my chin tightly.
“Do not lie to me, diavolina. I can feel it in your blood. I can smell it on your skin.” He brings his face closer to mine, fear and madness warring for control over my emotions.
I want to reach out and touch him. I want him to touch me. I want him to leave this place and never darken my fucking doorstep again. I can’t let this dance go on any longer, the emotions inside me crashing like waves against a lighthouse in a turbulent storm. I want out.
Jerking my head from his grasp, I move to sit up, wondering once again where the hell Doug is. If he were at the end of my bed where he usually sleeps, the intruder wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” I scoot back on the bed out of his reach, but he just laughs, standing to his full height and towering over me.
“There’s nowhere you can go that I cannot reach you.” He flashes that wicked grin one last time before lunging toward me. The scream I’ve been holding finally rips free.
My body slams onto the hardwood floor, blankets tangled around my legs.
Doug barks loudly outside my bedroom door, scratching and pawing at the frame frantically.
How the hell did that door get closed in the first place?
I would never shut him out of the bedroom.
He whines louder and louder as I stumble to my feet, rubbing my sore hip bone.
“Hold on, boy. I’m coming.” As soon as I turn the handle, Doug bursts into the room, sniffing every inch of the floor, the bed, my body, not stopping until he’s covered every surface of the room.
“What the hell happened last night, Dougy? I never have dreams that crazy.” I ask him, rubbing his favorite spot just behind his ears before walking into the kitchen. I stop short, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
The cup that always sits half empty next to my kitchen sink has been cleaned and sits upside down in the drying rack.