He grips my hair and yanks me over to the counter, shoving my hips into it, and I scream for help. Even though I know no one will be here.
Holding me in place, his free hand comes up and grips my neck again. “Why, Blakely?” He sighs as if disappointed. “You let Ryat play with you.” I tremble, trying to get away from him. “But I guess …” He yanks my head to the side and starts kissing my cheek. “If you don’t want to play, then I’ll just fuck you here and now.”
“No. No. No.” I rush out through a gasp. “I’ll play.” I try to nod my head, my watery eyes pleading for him to give me another chance in the mirror. “I’ll play.”
“Good.” He steps back and shoves me by my hair into the bedroom. “Go. The clock is ticking.”
I run out of the bedroom and slam the door shut behind me. Having to open it may give me an extra second. I’m going to need it. I have no clue where we are, but I decide to take the stairs to the lower level, hoping I can get out. When I hit the landing, I trip over the edge of a rug, falling onto my face. I quickly jump up and run to the front doors and try to open them.
Fuck! They’re locked. I twist the deadbolt and try again. Nothing. What the fuck? Looking up I see another lock that’s too tall for me to reach.
“Oh, by the way. All the doors have added padlocks. And only I have the key.”
I spin around, my hair slapping me in the face. Looking up, I see him bent over the balcony, a knife in his hand, and he slowly runs the blade down the side of his face pretending to shave. “And all windows are bulletproof.” He gives me a chilling smile. “I’ve had time to prepare your homecoming, baby.”
I shove off the door and run farther into the house. The sound of his wicked laughter bounces off the walls, carrying throughout the house. I see another set of stairs and decide maybe I should go up since he thinks I’m down here. I grip the wooden banister, to stop my momentum and fling myself around to run up when I run right into him.
The blow knocks me down. I cry out when my side hits the unforgiving floor and roll onto my stomach to crawl away from him.
“Isn’t this fun?” He laughs. His hands wrap around my ankles, and he starts dragging me backward across the tile.
I scream, trying to grab onto anything I can find, but all I do is pull a rug with me, and a table down that was up against the wall.
He drops my legs, and I scramble to get up, but his hands grip my hair, and he yanks me to my feet before slamming me face-first into a wall. His large body pins me to it from behind.
“Matt,” I sob, “Please …”
“Shh, Blakely,” he says soothingly in my ear. “It’s okay, babe. It’s just a game. We’re both going to win here.”
I try to shake my head, but he yanks it back even farther, forcing me to look up at the high ceiling. My fists hit the wall, trying to push away from it and give me some space.
“Your mother plans on doing whatever it takes to get that baby out of you.” He presses the tip of the knife to the side of my stomach, and I stiffen, my breathing stopping. “So, while she’s away, we’re going to play. That way, I still get what I want. And she gets what she wants.”
“Valerie is not my mom. You killed my mother,” I growl, hating how fucking helpless I am. Hating Ryat for doing this to me. To us! He promised to protect me.
Matt laughs in my ear, making that taste of vomit rise once again, and I swallow it down. “I just wanted a taste of her. I was going to be fucking her daughter for the rest of her life. She was lying there, naked and waiting. Begging to be fucked. What man would pass up the opportunity to have both?”
“My husband would.” I growl.
His laughter grows. “He had no clue who she was. But if he had, I bet he would have changed his mind.”
“You’re sick!” I scream. “You fucking bastard!” He yanks me from the wall and shoves me forward so hard that I trip and fall to my knees.
Then I feel his hands on me. He tosses me onto my back and straddles me. He shoves my shirt up to expose my bra to him, and I slap at his face. He grips my wrists, pinning them down by my sides. “You do know that your parents had to sign you up to be a chosen, right?”
“No,” I choke out.
“Not just any woman can give herself to a Lord. We can only pick from who is on the list.” His hands tighten their grip, and I whimper. “Even they recognized the whore that you are.”
I arch my back and scream for help, but it turns into a sob.