God help me…Zander isn’t the worst thing out there.
Megan Whitaker desperately wants to forget what the Malone brothers have done to her over the past two years – the haunting images and sensations still plaguing her thoughts and dreams – but she can’t. Charles may be dead, but Zander isn’t. I’ll find you and bring you back to me. She wants to believe she’s safe with Nick in their secluded new home, but it doesn’t keep her from looking over her shoulder, jumping over unexpected sounds, carrying a concealed weapon or even preparing for the worst.
Nick Ellis has seen a change in his long, lost love. Battered emotionally and physically, Megan spends her days at self-defense classes and researching things that’ll never allow her to let go of the past. And he feels guilty even asking her to, because he knows that heathen will return, it’s only a matter of time. And when he does, Nick will do anything to save her, even the unthinkable, risking everything he’s fought so hard to get back.
But there is no escaping the world of sex trafficking, nor the band of men who continually aid one another to keep it thriving. And as her nightmares begin to converge with reality, Megan realizes there are far worse people to fear than the one who haunts her dreams.
New Adult Romantic Suspense / Dark Realistic Fiction
Recommended for 17+ for mature and disturbing situations, language and sexual content.
“Look, Megan, I can take a lot of things, but lying’s not one of them.”
“I’m not lying to you,” she burst, whipping around.
“Omission is lying.” Waving the empty No-Doz bottle in the air, I added, “Switching your meds out behind my back is lying.” She crossed her arms, her eyes taking a nosedive.
“I mean, come on. Do you think I don’t know you’re afraid to sleep?” Her head still tipped downward, her brown orbs courageously looked up. “You’ve got the pantry stocked with energy drinks and we’ve had to buy coffee twice as often so I know you’re making another pot once I’m gone. You go to bed after me and get up before me. I. Know. Megan. So, please. Just come out and tell me what’s going on. I’m not going to be mad at you for it.”
It took her a minute, but finally she softly replied, “I don’t want to sleep anymore. Because I see him every time I close my eyes, alright? I can feel his breath on my skin and his damn fingers gripping my body, and it disgusts me. But most of all it terrifies me. Because for those few horrible minutes, my mind actually tricks me into believing that I never escaped. That I’m still stuck there, chained to the goddamn floor. So yes, I ditched the sleeping pills and switched to the No Doz. And now, when I actually do finally collapse, I’m so exhausted that I rarely dream. So I never have to go back to that damn nightmare.”
Damn that made me feel like shit, making her say that, the way the hurt filled her face as she did. I put the bottle back down softly, not giving a crap about it anymore. “God, Megan. Why didn’t you just tell me that? You don’t have to keep these things from me, you know?”
She shook her head, her eyes staring at the ground between us, slumping her shoulders as if she wished she could just melt right into the floor. “Seriously? And have you think I’m even more of a basket case than you realize? I’m not trying to lie to you. I just don’t want to burden you with every little thing that’s wrong with me.”
“Hey,” I said forcefully, eliminating the distance between us. I flattened my hands on each side of her face and brought my lips to hers. The kiss was way more aggressive than the soft, delicate ones she was used to getting, but for once I didn’t restrain myself. She was so shattered at times I just didn’t know what to do. So I kissed her, showing her with every caress of my mouth that she was loved, that I couldn’t live without her, no matter the fight she had going on inside her. It took my breath away, and she actually kissed me the same way back, her hands reaching up to cover mine. I slowly let them soften before pulling away, angling my head so our foreheads could rest against one another.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. And in case you need me to repeat it on a daily basis – I. Love. You.”
Devon Ashley is a mom, a wife, a lover and a
fighter, a coffee addict, a wicked knitster, a Microbiologist, a baker of fine
yummy treats, and someone who will fight you to the death for that last Twinkie
bag of M&Ms during the zombie-apocalypse. Seriously, her addiction is that
important to her. Oh, and she says seriously way too much. Seriously…
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