Scars Of Betrayal: Her Spectacular Comeback

to the master bathroom. The so

to my home," he snarled, his voice a l

ame as he carried her through. A desperate, futile attempt to stop him. He yanke

ce her down.

bathtub. The impact jarred her bones, and the icy shock

the tub, a dark, menacing silhouette against the bathroom's dim lighting. His eyes were red, burning with a fury so potent it was pra

ed his lips. "What's wrong? Do

. The final

eclipsed the fear, the pain, the confusion. With a gutt

und of the slap was shockingly loud, a sh

with fury. She pointed a trembling finger at his face. "A fool

n to bloom on his cheek. He turned back slowly, his expression one of stunned di

his eyes caught the angry red marks on her collarbone and arms-marks from her struggle in the ho

nd deformed by his rage, took over. He did n

d her wrists, his grip like iron, and slam

Did he touch you here? And here?" His gaze raked over her body, each glance

r lower lip, so hard she tasted the metallic tang of blood. Her legs thras

sent him ov

hand and twisted the knob

ng water hit her, a raw, desperate sound of shock and violation. The cold was a physical assault, stealing her brea

madman. A

bruise. He started scrubbing. Not washing. Scrubbing. His movements were rough, frantic, obsessive. He was not trying to arouse her. He was trying to cleanse

tion she felt before her heart simply gave up. It went numb. Dead. She stopped fighting. She just lay

h shower gel, hovered over her ankle. For a moment-a single, fleeting moment-something like horror flickered acr

whatever doubt had surfaced. He would

of the tub, his chest heaving, his

tub was filled with the sound of his breathing and the relentless drumming

eavier. Mor

reclaim. A need to brand. Her blood ran cold. The fear, which had been a roaring fire, now became a silent, paralyzing dread

, his wet hair drip

is mouth w

were hard, demanding, bruising. He bit her lip, the one she had already

and tracing a path through the water on her cheek