Pulled(81)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Blood throbbed against my eardrums and ran cold through my veins. My heart didn’t knowing whether to seize or pound its way completely from my chest.

No. Please. No.

But I couldn’t deny the dark figure, a shadow sitting leisurely in the large chair in front of the window, the faint amount of light coming in from outside obscuring everything but his silhouette. I gulped, trying to hold down the scream rattling in my throat.

“Nicholas…you…you…scared me,” I managed to force out, my mind racing. I clamored to find a way to get myself out of this situation, my eyes looking at the door. His eyes trailed mine, keen on my intent.

Even with as preoccupied as I had been with packing my things from my office, I still would have heard him enter, and I knew then he hadn’t wanted me to know he was there. Because he knew. He had to have been waiting, watching. My stomach clenched. Did he fol ow me here from the airport?

“Going somewhere?” His tone was laced with sarcastic venom as he tilted his head to the side. His face slowly came into focus; his relaxed posture a paradox, his expression severe; the fury burning in his eyes was visible even across the darkened room.

His face shifted down, and I noticed the pile of papers resting on his knee. His hand moved slowly and deliberately as he reached down to pick them up, smacking them lightly against his knee.

I knew immediately what they were. How could I have been so stupid—so careless?

“These are really very interesting.” He held them up, pursing his lips, his eyebrows drawn, waiting for my reaction to the pages and pages of the cel phone bill. The lines of unknown number were numerous, both texts and cal s, running in repetition down the columns. The few sparse cal s to Katie and my mother sorely stuck out among the hundreds of others. It was clear from the look on Nicholas’s face that he knew exactly who my “unknown” was.

So this was it.

I could try to lie, but there would be no denying what Nicholas held in his hand, and I was through keeping my love for Daniel a secret.

“Just let me go, Nicholas. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me, so—”

His barking laugh caught me by surprise as he jumped to his feet. Not even a smal amount of humor accompanied the harsh sound coming from his mouth.

“You think this is about love?”

I cowered back, the broken glass crunching against the floor as I backed away from him as he stalked across the room.

“This is about somebody trying to take something that belongs to me. You…are…mine,” he growled as he came closer, “and I think it’s about time I reminded you of that.”

I took the last step I could before I backed into the wal , trapped. His breath was hot and fevered with anger as he stood, fuming in front of me. His nose ran down my jaw and to my neck. My body rol ed with nausea when his hands came to rest on either side of my head, his mouth against my ear. “You really are a whore, aren’t you? Do you know what you smell like?”

I shrank away as he continued to move, his hands roaming over my body. He breathed over me, pushing into me, trying to reclaim me.

I became desperate, frantic, my defenses finally kicking in. I pushed him back and struggled to get away, crying out, begging him to stop. But it only made it worse when he saw what I wore on my left ring finger.

“What…the…fuck…is…that?” he spit through clenched teeth, enraged as his hand came up and twisted in my hair, yanking hard. I shrieked when the other came to the col ar of my shirt, the cloth ripping from top to bottom as he tore through it. His hand flew to the button of my pants and he struggled to break it free.

Tears flowed as I slumped against the wal , powerless, my soul crying out as I begged for Daniel, cal ing to him, “Please save me.”

His answer was clear.

Fight!

I gathered all the courage I could find, and I did just that. I fought with everything I had, kicking and hitting and clawing and screaming. The sudden attack was not enough to hurt Nicholas, but enough of a surprise to all ow me to break free of his grip. I dodged under his arms, escaping down the only open path and into the kitchen.

He was right behind me and knocked me to the floor when he struck me from behind. The sound of my hands and knees smacking against the floor echoed through the room. My face made its own protest as it met the marble tiles and the taste of blood saturated my mouth.

Nicholas’s hand wrapped around my calf, pulling me back to him, the blood pouring from my mouth and smearing across the floor as he pulled me toward the door.

He flipped me over, hitting me hard across the face. “You stupid bitch!”

He held me down, his hand splayed out across my chest, the pressure of his weight suffocating as he struggled with his pants. still , I fought, trying to kick and break free. His hand grabbed a handful of hair at the top of my head. He lifted my head and smashed it against the floor. The pain was splitting, staggering, and nearly sucked me into darkness.

Stil the voice was there, ringing through the pain, deafening.

Fight!

Blindly I grabbed for—anything. The back of my hand smacked into the wine rack against the wal , the bottles clanging against the metal. Wrapping my hand around the neck of the first bottle I touched, I tugged it out and swung it sharply. My ears filled with an earth-shattering crack when the bottle smashed into the side of Nicholas’s head. My last seconds of consciousness were filled with a shower of broken glass, blood, and wine, and then the weight of Nicholas’s limp body.

Chapter 26

I rushed to the office, signed a few documents, and was back in my car in less than ten minutes. Traffic was light, so I was on the highway in no time, racing toward Nicholas’s house, on my way to finally bring home my girl.

My heart tightened, overjoyed with that thought.

She was actually coming home. Tonight, we’d sleep together in our bed. My thoughts were getting carried away.

I glanced down and saw I was speeding in the extreme, but the pul was strong, drawing me to her. When I actually paid attention to the pul —felt it—I realized something was off. I didn’t know what it was, but something was wrong. I could feel it. Shit. I pressed down further on the pedal. The closer I got, the stronger the feeling became. Agitation raced through my veins, spurring me on, driving me faster.

Fight!

I didn’t know where the word came from, but suddenly it was there, and I was voicing it aloud in the car.

Oh, my God. Something was very, very wrong. I swerved around a car, cutting back in front of it to take the exit, slamming on my breaks when I came up behind the line of cars waiting at the intersection.