I couldn't stop the scream when a third man joined in and I felt something inside me tear...
I jerked awake, heart pounding. The room was dark, unfamiliar, and I could feel the panic closing in. I fumbled for a lamp next to the bed, my befuddled brain insisting that one had to be there, no matter where I was. With my throat closing and my chest tightening, gray spots danced in front of my eyes and I fought to keep from passing out. I had to see where I was.
The light came on and I saw the generic color scheme, the basic furniture. Right, a hotel. I flopped back onto the bed. The room wasn't tiny, but it was small enough for me to see that I was alone. I stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe.
My arms wrapped around my middle. I'd get through this. I'd done it before. They were only nightmares, memories. They couldn't hurt me. I was safe. Honestly, I was safer now than I had been at my apartment, I told myself. Christophe was out on bail until his plea deal was finished, but he'd never find me here. I'd used cash and an alias.
I kept talking to myself, but the panic attack didn't subside. If anything, it seemed to take a stronger hold. The hotel room swam in front of me. I didn't want to pass out. Sometimes, I had nightmares in that deep darkness, and I didn't want another one.
I'd gotten spoiled, having Rylan there to hold me, to tell me everything was okay. His arms around me, his voice pulling me back from the brink.
Tears burned at my eyelids even though I'd thought I'd cried myself dry. He'd told me that he'd be my anchor, that I could hold onto him, even in my sleep and he'd help me get through my nightmares. Thinking of him, though, didn't bring comfort now. It just made things worse.
I rolled out of bed and headed for the mini-bar. It would've been cheaper just to go to a liquor store or grocery store, but I didn't feel like going out. I wasn't even sure what time it was. All I knew was I needed something that was going to help me relax. I didn't like using alcohol to do that, but at the moment, it seemed better than the alternative of just staying up and having to deal with the pain sober.
I drained three little bottles and the muscles in my chest relaxed enough that I could actually breathe. I crawled back into bed, knowing I was going to wake up with a nasty hangover and not caring. Better a hangover than those dreams.
I left the light on as I closed my eyes and waited for sleep or unconsciousness. I didn’t care which one. As long as oblivion came with it. I didn't want to think anymore. What would be the point? I was smart, but brains didn't necessarily mean anything. After all, they hadn't done anything for me before. I'd had to rely on someone else to save me.
I snorted a laugh even though it was far from funny. It was all well and good to say you didn't need a man rescuing you, but I'd proven that to be a big fat lie. Granted, Lily hadn't been a man, but there had been men on the team that had come in and saved me. I'd told myself I'd only needed help because I'd been a child, but recent events were proving that wasn't true. I was just weak. I'd tried to fight against Christophe, but Rylan had come in to rescue me. On my own, I was pretty much useless.
Rylan looked down at me with an expression of disgust on his face. I wanted to look away, to cover myself up, but I couldn't move. I was held tight between the men fucking me and could do nothing but pray that Rylan would turn away. He didn't though.
“Suzette and Zeke were right. You're just a filthy little whore, aren't you, Jenna?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of cash. He dropped it next to me and unzipped his pants. He didn't wait for the others to be done, shoving himself inside me...
“No!” The word was still on my lips as I woke. I winced at the sharp pain in my head, but it was a welcome reminder that it had only been a dream. Rylan hadn't done that. He hadn't been there. And he wouldn't have done it even if he had been. I'd heard the anger in his voice when I talked about being abused. He wanted to kill the men who'd hurt me. I hadn't left him because I hadn't believed that he loved me. I'd left because I'd known he loved me.
Exhausted emotionally and physically, I drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes I managed an hour or so without nightmares, but they always came eventually. Some were memories of my past. My mother hitting me, burning me. The man who'd like to hunt me. Individual men, faceless when they raped me, their perversion feeling almost normal when compared to other things I'd been forced to do. Christophe making me watch those videos.
Worse were the ones my mind made up entirely. Most starred Rylan. Sometimes he was joining in the abuse, but more often, he was happy, married to someone else, a father to beautiful children. In my dreams, he’d forgotten me until I approached and then he would send me away, not wanting me to contaminate the precious life he'd created. There were dreams where I'd married Rylan and we had a family. Those were the worst of all, because I'd be happy in the dream and then wake up to feel the loss all over again.
At some point, I realized that I'd slept almost the entire weekend away. It was late Sunday night and I hadn't taken a single moment to think about what I was going to do tomorrow. I knew what I wanted to do. Sleep. Try to find even a few minutes of peace. I could feel the darkness tugging at me, promising relief. Even though I knew it was a lie, I wanted it.
Growing up, I'd never allowed myself to think much of the future because I'd known that if I'd seen it, the black stretching outward, endless days of pain and misery, I'd either go mad or I'd kill myself. When I'd started Lang Tech Consulting, I'd allowed myself to see a positive future, but only in my work. With Rylan, however, I'd been unable to stop myself from thinking about a future with him because he'd seen one with me.
Now there was nothing. I could start Lang Tech Consulting back up again. My clients had been sad to see me go. I didn't really want to do that though. As much as I'd fought against working at Archer Enterprises, I'd ended up enjoying the job. The people, for the most part, were polite and let me do my own thing.
I couldn't go back though. I knew people had started to put two and two together regarding Rylan and I, and they'd soon figure out I broke up with him. I didn't want to be there when all of that shit hit the fan. There'd be blame and gossip and all of the things that made me prefer computers to actual people.
And then there'd be him. I couldn't face Rylan again. I couldn't bear to see how badly I'd hurt him. Or worse, if I hadn't hurt him at all. I'd told myself that I knew he loved me, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering just how deep that love actually went. Of course, there was always the problem of what I'd do if he tried to get me back. It had taken all my strength to leave. I was a strong person, but I didn't think I could walk away from him again. One look, one touch, and I'd be his. It would've been so much easier if I didn't love him or if he'd done something horrible, but none of that was true. All I had to hold onto was that I was giving him the chance to find the happiness he deserved.
When Sunday turned into Monday, I made up my mind about what I had to do. I didn't like the idea, but I knew it was the right thing for everyone involved.
I waited until six o'clock and went downstairs. I knew how good Rylan was with a computer. If I sent the email from my phone, he'd be able to find me. The cab driver gave me an odd look when I asked to be taken to the local library, but he didn't argue. It wasn't open yet, but I'd made friends with the security guard a while back and he'd sometimes let me in early. I handed him a cup of coffee and he unlocked the door. I promised to be in and out in just a couple minutes. It didn't take long and, by six-thirty, I'd sent my resignation to Rylan's personal and business emails. Even if he did track the origin of the email here, he'd never find me. And that was a pretty big if. Another reason I'd wanted to use the library's computers was that I'd used them before and hidden a nice little re-routing program to my log-in that made it seem like I was working from other parts of the country.
I was numb as I went back to the hotel. It was done. I'd cut all ties with Rylan and now I'd make sure I stayed out of his way, at least until he'd moved on. I could leave Fort Collins, I supposed, make a new start somewhere else. I wasn't quite ready to do that yet, but if I had to, I would. Seattle might be a good place to disappear to.
I pushed the thought aside. I wasn't there yet. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep and not think.
Chapter 3
I had the driver stop at a drug store before going to the hotel and I was glad I had. I'd never been fond of taking sleeping pills since they made me sleep so deeply that I wasn't aware of my surroundings, but at the moment, they were better than the alternative of alcohol. At least the sleeping pills wouldn't give me a hangover. Plus, once I checked my room to make sure no one else was inside, I could bolt and lock the door and feel as safe as I did anywhere else – more than I did in my apartment. I ignored the little voice in the back of my head that said I'd be even safer with Rylan. That wasn't an option anymore.
For the next few days, I slept. I woke periodically to eat something or use the bathroom, but I didn't bother showering or changing my clothes. I turned down maid service and tried not to think. It was harder than one would imagine, even with the sleeping pills.
I'd never been the kind of person who could do things like stare at a television for hours, watching mindlessly. I always had to be doing something. Work. Reading. Anything to keep my mind busy. My therapist had mentioned once that, because my IQ was so high, my brain needed more than one thing to focus on or it got bored and I got distracted.
So I slept, and half-slept, and my mind followed whatever little trail it wanted to. Sometimes into the past, sometimes into the future. Always bleak and hopeless. I tried not to think about Rylan and our time together. That hurt too much. But I wasn't strong enough to resist it, especially when I was in that place half-way between sleep and awake. That was when he came to me.
I could see him clear as day. His dark hair. Those blue-violet eyes that darkened to almost purple when he wanted me. I could picture the Celtic cross that ran the length of his spine and across his shoulders, the way his muscles rippled beneath the tattooed skin. Strong jaw, lightly stubbled before he shaved. High cheekbones that emphasized his amazing eyes. He was the perfect combination of rugged and, well, pretty.
And then there was the way he looked at me, like I was something precious, to be protected. I could feel his fingertips caressing my face, almost as if he was afraid I'd break. His mouth gentle on mine. Then, firm and demanding. His body moving above me, behind me, inside me. He'd known what I needed, and had always put me first. He wanted to dominate me, but he'd been cautious, always making sure I was okay.
I could still hear his voice saying my name, calling me
love
. He'd worshipped my body, made it come alive, but he'd done so much more than that. He'd given me back my heart, my soul, and I'd given them right back to him. I'd submitted to him, let him fulfill fantasies that I'd never admitted, ones that I knew he wanted but would never ask because he'd known they were triggers for me. He'd told me about the BDSM lifestyle and offered to walk away from it for me.
Each time those things came back to me, whether in fragments or whole memories, my heart would break again. I missed him more than I'd ever thought I could miss someone. I missed the feel of him, and not just during sex. The safety I felt when in his arms. The warmth of his voice. His smile.
To make matters worse, he'd been calling me since Monday morning. And texting. And sending emails. By Tuesday, I'd turned off my phone. I didn't have anyone else who'd be calling me since I hadn't bothered to try contacting former clients yet.
I hadn't answered any of the attempts at contact, but I hadn't been able to stop myself from listening to the voicemails, reading the messages and emails. Yet another reason I'd turned off my phone. I wasn't sure which would've been worse, if he hadn't tried to contact me at all or hearing the pain in his voice, seeing it in his words.
“Jenna, love, please don't do this. Tell me how to fix it. If things were moving too fast, you moving in here, it's okay. I can step back. We can go as slow as you need to. Just, please, talk to me.”
“Was it something my parents or Suzette said? We don't have to go back again. I'll make sure they know that they're not welcome until they can accept you. I won't lose you over their ignorance. Call me. I love you.”
“Did I hurt you? Please, talk to me. I'm so sorry if I did something...Just tell me what it was. You know I'd never hurt you on purpose. Please, love. I need you.”
Gradually, I could hear the anger under the hurt, read it between the lines.
“You're quitting? What's going on? I thought things were good between us. I mean, we hadn't even been arguing. Was it because I didn't immediately tell off my parents for being rude? I told you that I'd choose you over them and I meant it.”
“I can't fix things if you don't tell me what happened. Talk to me, Jenna. You promised me, after the Lara thing, that you'd talk to me when you were upset. What the hell did I do wrong?”
Then came the voicemail that had made me decide to stop listening.
“When I said I loved you, I meant it, and I asked you not to say it back out of obligation. I truly believed you meant it that night, and every time since. If you didn't love me, you could've just said so. I would've understood and waited, or bowed out. It would've been kinder. Or was it that you didn't know until...is there someone else? Have you fallen in love with someone else and didn't know how to tell me? Do you love him or is he just a game to you? Was I?”
It was killing me, knowing that he thought this was his fault, that he'd done something wrong. That he was doubting my love for him. Better that than the alternative though. Even if I told him the truth, he'd insist it didn't matter and he'd be angry with Suzette for what she'd said to me. I couldn't drive a wedge between him and his family. With me out of the way, they'd mend things. Rylan's life would go back to normal. He'd be able to return to how things were before he met me and he'd be happy again.