* * *
I don’t see him again after the ceremony, and I’m relieved. Leah drives us to Jake’s house. She and Jennie are chattering the entire way, excited to be done with high school, to start the next phase of our lives.
I would normally join in the conversation, but I’m too disturbed by seeing Julian, so I just sit there quietly. For some reason, I hadn’t told Leah about meeting him in the club. I only said that I had a headache and wanted to go home.
I don’t know why I can’t talk to Leah about Julian. I have no problem spilling my guts about Jake. Maybe it’s because it’s too difficult for me to describe how Julian makes me feel. She wouldn’t understand why he frightens me.
I don’t really understand it myself.
At Jake’s house, the party is in full swing when we arrive. I am still resolved to talk to Jake, but I’m too freaked out from seeing Julian earlier. I decide that I need some liquid courage.
Leaving the girls, I walk over to the keg and pour myself a cup of punch. Sniffing it, I determine that it definitely has alcohol, and I drink the full cup.
Almost immediately, I start to feel buzzed. As I had discovered in the past few years, my alcohol tolerance is virtually nonexistent. One drink is just about my limit.
I see Jake walking to the kitchen, and I follow him there.
He’s cleaning up, throwing away some extra cups and dirty paper plates.
“Do you want some help with that?” I ask.
He smiles, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, sure, thanks. That would be awesome.” His sun-streaked hair is a little long and flops over his forehead, making him look particularly cute.
I melt a little inside. He’s so handsome. Not in the disturbing Julian way, but in a pleasantly comfortable sense. Jake is tall and muscular, but he’s not all that big for a quarterback. Not big enough to play ball in college, or at least that’s what Jennie once told me.
I help him clean up, brushing some chip crumbs off the counter and wiping up the punch that had spilled on the floor. The entire time, my heart is beating faster from excitement.
“Nora, right?” Jake says, looking at me.
He knows my name!
I give him a huge grin. “That’s right.”
“That’s really awesome of you to help, Nora,” he says sincerely. “I like throwing parties, but the cleaning is always a bitch the next day. So now I try to clean a little during, before it gets really nasty.”
My grin widens further, and I nod. “Of course.”
That makes total sense to me. I love the fact that he seems so nice and thoughtful, so much more than just a jock.
We start chatting. He tells me about his plans for next year. Unlike me, he’s going away to college. I tell him I’m planning to stay local for the next two years to save money. Afterwards, I want to transfer to a real university.
He nods approvingly and says that it’s smart. He’d thought about doing something like that, but he was lucky enough to get a full-ride scholarship to the University of Michigan.
I smile and congratulate him. On the inside, I’m jumping up and down in joy.
We’re clicking. We’re really clicking! He likes me, I can tell. Oh, why hadn’t I approached him before?
We talk for about twenty minutes before someone comes into the kitchen looking for Jake.
“Hey, Nora,” Jake says before he goes back to the party, “are you doing anything tomorrow?”
I shake my head, holding my breath.
“How about we go see a movie?” Jake suggests. “Maybe grab dinner at that little seafood place?”
I grin and nod like an idiot. I’m too afraid to say something stupid, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Great,” Jake says, grinning back at me. “Then I’ll pick you up at six.”
He goes back to being the party host, and I rejoin the girls. We stay for another couple of hours, but I don’t talk to Jake again. He’s surrounded by his jock friends, and I don’t want to interrupt.
But every now and then, I catch him looking my way and smiling.
* * *
I’m floating on air for the next twenty-four hours. I tell Leah and Jennie all about what happened. They’re excited for me.
In preparation for our date, I put on a cute blue dress and a pair of high-heeled brown boots. They’re a cross between cowboy boots and something a bit dressier, and I know I look good in them.
Jake picks me up at six o’clock sharp.
We go to Fish-of-the-Sea, a popular local joint not too far from the movie theater. It’s a nice sit-down place, not too formal.
Perfect for a first date.
We have a great time. I learn more about Jake and his family. He asks me questions too, and we discover that we like the same types of movies. I can’t stand chick flicks for some reason, and I really enjoy cheesy end-of-the-world stories with lots of special effects. So does Jake, apparently.
After dinner, we go see a movie. Unfortunately, it’s not about an apocalypse, but it’s still a pretty good action film. During the movie, Jake puts his arm around my shoulders, and I can barely suppress my excitement. I hope he kisses me tonight.
When the movie is done, we go for a walk in the park. It’s late, but I feel completely safe. The crime rate in our town is negligible, and there are plenty of streetlights.
We’re walking and Jake is holding my hand. We’re discussing the movie. Then he stops and just looks at me.
I know what he wants. It’s what I want, too.
I look up at him and smile. He smiles back, puts his hands on my shoulders, and leans down to kiss me.
His lips feel soft, and his breath smells like the minty gum he was chewing earlier. His kiss is gentle and pleasant, everything I hoped it would be.
Then, in a blink of an eye, everything changes.
I don’t even know what happened or how it happened. One minute, I’m kissing Jake, and the next, he’s lying on the ground, unconscious. A large figure is looming over him.
I open my mouth to scream, but I can’t get more than a peep out before a big hand covers my mouth and nose.
I feel a sharp prick on the side of my neck, and my world goes completely dark.
Chapter Three
I wake up with a pounding headache and queasy stomach. It’s dark, and I can’t see a thing.
For a second, I can’t remember what happened. Did I have too much to drink at a party? Then my mind clears, and the events of last night come rushing in. I remember the kiss and then . . . Jake! Oh dear God, what happened to Jake?
What happened to me?
I’m so terrified that I just lie there, shaking.
I am lying on something comfortable. A bed with a good mattress, most likely. I’m covered by a blanket, but I can’t feel any clothes on my body, just the softness of cotton sheets against my skin. I touch myself and confirm that I’m right: I’m completely naked.
My shaking intensifies.
I use one hand to check between my legs. To my huge relief, everything feels the same. No wetness, no soreness, no indication that I’ve been violated in any way.
For now, at least.
Tears burn my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Crying wouldn’t help my situation now. I need to figure out what’s going on. Are they planning to kill me? Rape me? Rape me and then kill me? If it’s ransom they’re after, then I’m as good as dead. After my dad got laid off during the recession, my parents can barely pay their mortgage as is.
I hold back hysteria with effort. I don’t want to start screaming. That would attract their attention.
Instead I just lie there in the dark, every horrifying story I’ve seen on the news running through my mind. I think of Jake and his warm smile. I think of my parents and how devastated they’ll be when the police tell them I’m missing. I think of all my plans, and how I will probably never get a chance to attend a real university.
And then I start to get angry. Why did they do this? Who are they, anyway? I assum
e it’s ‘they’ instead of ‘he’ because I remember seeing a dark figure looming over Jake’s body. Someone else must’ve grabbed me from the back.
The anger helps hold back the panic. I’m able to think a little. I still can’t see anything in the dark, but I can feel.
Moving quietly, I carefully start exploring my surroundings.
First, I determine that I’m indeed lying on a bed. A big bed, probably king-sized. There are pillows and a blanket, and the sheets are soft and pleasant to the touch. Likely expensive.
For some reason, that scares me even more. These are criminals with money.
Crawling to the edge of the bed, I sit up, holding the blanket tightly around me. My bare feet touch the floor. It’s smooth and cold to the touch, like hardwood.
I wrap the blanket around me and stand up, ready to do further exploration.
At that moment, I hear the door opening.
A soft light comes on. Even though it’s not bright, I’m blinded for a minute. I blink a few times, and my eyes adjust.
And I see him.
Julian.
He stands in the doorway like a dark angel. His hair curls a little around his face, softening the hard perfection of his features. His eyes are trained on my face, and his lips are curved in a slight smile.
He’s stunning.
And utterly terrifying.
My instincts had been right—this man is capable of anything.
“Hello, Nora,” he says softly, entering the room.
I cast a desperate glance around me. I see nothing that could serve as a weapon.
My mouth is dry like the desert. I can’t even gather enough saliva to talk. So I just watch him stalk toward me like a hungry tiger approaches its prey.
I am going to fight if he touches me.
He comes closer, and I take a step back. Then another and another, until I’m pressed against the wall. I’m still huddling in the blanket.
He lifts his hand, and I tense, preparing to defend myself.
But he’s merely holding a bottle of water and offering it to me.
“Here,” he says. “I figured you must be thirsty.”
I stare at him. I’m dying of thirst, but I don’t want him to drug me again.
He seems to understand my hesitation. “Don’t worry, my pet. It’s just water. I want you awake and conscious.”
I don’t know how to react to that. My heart is hammering in my throat, and I feel sick with fear.
He stands there, patiently watching. Holding the blanket tightly with one hand, I give in to my thirst and take the water from him. My hand shakes, and my fingers brush against his in the process. A wave of heat rolls through me, a strange reaction that I ignore.
Now I have to unscrew the cap—which means I have to let go of the blanket. He’s observing my dilemma with interest and no small measure of amusement. Thankfully, he’s not touching me. He’s standing less than two feet away and simply watching me.
I press my arms tightly against my body, holding the blanket that way, and unscrew the cap. Then I hold the blanket with one hand and lift the bottle to my lips to drink.
The cool liquid feels amazing on my parched lips and tongue. I drink until the entire bottle is gone. I can’t remember the last time water tasted so good. Dry mouth must be the side effect of whatever drug he used to get me here.
Now I can talk again, so I ask him, “Why?”
To my huge surprise, my voice sounds almost normal.
He lifts his hand and touches my face again. Just like he did at the club. And again, I stand there helplessly and let him. His fingers are gentle on my skin, his touch almost tender. It’s such a stark contrast to the whole situation that I’m disoriented for a moment.
“Because I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Julian says, and I can hear the barely suppressed rage in his voice. “Because he touched you, laid his hands on you.”
I can barely think. “Who?” I whisper, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. And then it hits me. “Jake?”
“Yes, Nora,” he says darkly. “Jake.”
“Is he—” I don’t know if I can even say it out loud. “Is he . . . alive?”
“For now,” Julian says, his eyes burning into mine. “He’s in the hospital with a mild concussion.”
I’m so relieved I slump against the wall. And then the full meaning of his words hits me. “What do you mean, for now?”
Julian shrugs. “His health and wellbeing are entirely dependent on you.”
I swallow to moisten my still-dry throat. “On me?”
His fingers caress my face again, push the hair back behind my ear. I’m so cold I feel like his touch is burning my skin. “Yes, my pet, on you. If you behave, he’ll be fine. If not . . .”
I can barely draw in a breath. “If not?”
Julian smiles. “He’ll be dead within a week.”
His smile is the most beautiful and frightening thing I’ve ever seen.
“Who are you?” I whisper. “What do you want from me?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he touches my hair, lifts a thick brown strand to his face. Inhales, as though smelling it.
I watch him, frozen in place. I don’t know what to do. Do I fight him now? And if so, what would that accomplish? He hasn’t hurt me yet, and I don’t want to provoke him. He’s much larger than me, much stronger. I can see the thickness of his muscles under the black T-shirt he’s wearing. Without my heels on, I barely come up to his shoulder.
While I contemplate the merits of fighting someone who probably outweighs me by a hundred pounds, he makes the decision for me. His hand leaves my hair and tugs at the blanket I’m holding so tightly.
I don’t let go. If anything, I clutch it harder. And I do something embarrassing.
I beg.
“Please,” I say desperately, “please, don’t do this.”
He smiles again. “Why not?” His hand is continuing to pull at the blanket, slowly and inexorably. I know he’s doing it this way to prolong the torture. He could easily rip the blanket away from me with one strong tug.
“I don’t want this,” I tell him. I can barely draw in air through the constriction in my chest, and my voice comes out sounding unexpectedly breathy.
He looks amused, but there’s a dark gleam in his eyes. “No? You think I couldn’t feel your reaction to me in the club?”
I shake my head. “There was no reaction. You’re wrong . . .” My voice is thick with unshed tears. “I only want Jake—”
In an instant, his hand is wrapped around my throat. He doesn’t do anything else, doesn’t squeeze, but the threat is there. I can feel the violence within him, and I’m terrified.
He leans down toward me. “You don’t want that boy,” he says harshly. “He can never give you what I can. Do you understand me?”
I nod, too scared to do anything else.
He releases my throat. “Good,” he says in a softer tone. “Now let go of the blanket. I want to see you naked again.”
Again? He must’ve been the one to undress me.
I try to plaster myself even closer to the wall. And still don’t let go of the blanket.
He sighs.
Two seconds later, the blanket is on the floor. As I had suspected, I don’t stand a chance when he uses his full strength.
I resist the only way I can. Instead of standing there and letting him look at my naked body, I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chest. My arms wrap around my legs, and I sit there like that, trembling all over. My long, thick hair streams down my back and arms, partially covering me.
I hide my face against my knees. I’m terrified of what he’ll do to me now, and the tears burning my eyes finally escape, running down my cheeks.
“Nora,” he says, and there is a steely note in his voice. “Get up. Get up right now.”
I shake my head mutely, still not looking at him.
“Nora, this can be pleasurable for you or i
t can be painful. It’s really up to you.”
Pleasurable? Is he insane? My entire body is shaking with sobs at this point.
“Nora,” he says again, and I hear the impatience in his voice. “You have exactly five seconds to do what I’m telling you.”
He waits, and I can almost hear him counting in his head. I’m counting too, and when I get to four, I get up, tears still streaming down my face.
I’m ashamed of my own cowardice, but I’m so afraid of pain. I don’t want him to hurt me.
I don’t want him to touch me at all, but that is clearly not an option.
“Good girl,” he says softly, touching my face again, brushing my hair back over my shoulders.
I tremble at his touch. I can’t look at him, so I keep my eyes down.
He apparently objects to that, because he tilts my chin up until I have no choice but to meet his gaze with my own.
His eyes are dark blue in this light. He’s so close to me that I can feel the heat coming off his body. It feels good because I’m cold. Naked and cold.
Suddenly, he reaches for me, bending down. Before I can get really scared, he slides one arm around my back and another under my knees.
Then he lifts me effortlessly in his arms and carries me to the bed.
* * *
He puts me down, almost gently, and I curl into a ball, shaking. He starts to undress, and I can’t help watching him.
He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and the T-shirt comes off first.
His upper body is a work of art, all broad shoulders, hard muscles, and smooth tan skin. His chest is lightly dusted with dark hair. Under some other circumstances, I would’ve been thrilled to have such a good-looking lover.
Under these circumstances, I just want to scream.
His jeans are next. I can hear the sound of his zipper being lowered, and it galvanizes me into action.
In a second, I go from lying on the bed to scrambling for the door—which he’d left open.
I may be small, but I’m fast on my feet. I did track for ten years and was quite good at it. Unfortunately, I hurt my knee during one of the races, and now I’m limited to more leisurely runs and other forms of exercise.
I make it out the door, down the stairs, and I’m almost to the front door when he catches me.